I have always liked maps. Any kind of map fascinates me. You can learn so much from a map. If it is a road map, you can find out how to get from here to there and back again.
When I was in elementary school and the classroom got boring, like most kids, I would doodle. But while some kids doodled by drawing monsters or elaborating their signatures, I doodled maps. I would wander into dreamland by sketching a map of the streets in my neighborhood, seeing if I could remember how each street connected to another. It didn’t help me get home by the shortest and quickest route, but I loved to draw maps.
A little later, I got into collecting postage stamps, as many children do. Stamps from all over the world. Well, there are so many it’s impossible to collect one of every kind, and so many collectors specialize. Some specialize in the stamps of one country; others specialize in stamps with some theme. That was my choice. I chose to collect stamps with maps on them! Stamps that told you something about that country by showing you its map. My personal favorites were the stamps issued by Austria after the Second World War. One stamp shows a map of Austria, with a dagger plunged through it. On that dagger is the swastika of Nazism. The Austrians were telling us through that map stamp that their country had been deeply wounded by the German invasion. Then there is a second stamp, again with a map of Austria, but this time there is a broom sweeping across the land, sweeping away broken swastikas. The message is, “We’re cleaning house. We’re getting rid of that terrible system.” And then there was a third stamp in the series. This one showed a world map, a globe. On that globe were many of the nations of the world, and circling that globe were the flags of all those nations. Over the map where Austria is located there was a question mark; and in the circle of flags, a gap, also with a question mark. What’s the message? The Austrians were asking whether they could now be admitted to the United Nations. Had they been forgiven for their part in the war? Were they going to be brought home to the family of nations? Could they come home? The maps told the story.
There are road maps to many far countries. And there are road maps for the way home from these far countries. Fathers use those road maps. Sadly, fathers sometimes use road maps to far countries. But God has also given fathers road maps for the way home.
What we know as the parable of the prodigal son is just as much the parable of the waiting father. It is not only a story about a son who wandered off to a far country; and not only a story about a brother who resented the wanderer. It is also a story about a father in agony, a father who used road maps, maps to a far country and maps home from that far country.
I
For example, we learn that fathers provide their children road maps to a far country when they give them everything they ask for. Just saying “yes” to everything is a road map to disaster:
The younger of [the sons] said to his father, ’Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So he divided his property between them.
Now, I didn’t know it was that easy, did you? It never occurred to me that all you have to do is assume that something is yours and you’ve got it! Name it and claim it. Hey, dad, since you are eventually going to shuffle off this mortal coil, save yourself the inheritance tax and the trouble of writing a will, and just give it to me now. Is that a deal or what?! No questions asked, no restraints, just shell out.
Now we rightly shake our heads at the arrogance of the younger son. How dare he be in such a hurry! How dare he march right in and brazenly demand something he did not earn?! We are shocked at that.
But does a father have to say yes to every demand? Does a parent have to agree to everything a child wants? Is anyone bound to say yes to anyone who asks anything? Believe me, as a pastor, I can tell you I have plenty of people asking me for things, some of whom, if I don’t help them get what they want, either with prayer or with money, then it’s, “Preacher, what kind of a pastor are you anyway?” I know what it is for people to demand what they want.
But the road map that leads away from home and out to a far country has on it a highway paved with indulgence, with unthinking generosity, with giving our children whatever they think they want at the moment.
So that we may learn more about this, I brought with me such a road map today. Since this is grads’ day as well as dads’ day, it’s a map of a college campus. It happens to be the University of Maryland, but it could be any campus. And if you look carefully at this campus map, you will discover that it represents the road map to the far country, where the highway is paved with indulgence and unthinking generosity.
Alongside this allegedly educational institution lies a street called Route 1. Route 1 is not part of the university. But it offers fatal attractions for the university’s students. Along Route 1 you will find fast food shops, snack bars, restaurants, all night convenience stores – all designed to cater to students with the hungries. Not to mention bars, pizza parlors, vending machines, and more. And then on Route 1 you will find record shops with the latest CD’s, demanding to be purchased. And video stores, with movies that can gobble up hours of a student’s time. And clothing stores, with the latest ripped jeans and baggy britches. And, even in this enlightened age, palm readers and crystal ball gazers, who for a fee will tell you whether the guy you were with last night is “the one”. This may look like a road map of a university; but it is also a road map to self-indulgence, waste, and ruin.
Something very interesting happens to parents when we send our sons and daughters off to college. We decide that they’re going to follow this road map. This one. Oh, now, we don’t say, “Go to college and spend, spend, spend.” And we don’t kiss them goodbye and say, “I hope you’ll learn how to barhop.” But because some of us grew up in very modest, even meager, circumstances, we declare, “My son, my daughter, will lack for nothing. They aren’t going to have to do what I did.” Sounds good, doesn’t it? Except that it may be the first mile down the road to the far country.
When I enrolled in the University of Louisville, back in nineteen-hundred-and-none-of-your-business, my father said, “We’ll keep on feeding you and housing you, but that’s all we can do.” So I worked and I paid for my own tuition and books. I thought it was kind of a hardship, and felt the pain every time I wrote a tuition check.
So, nearly thirty years later, when my son enrolled at Towson State University, I said, “I’ll pay.” You go and study, and I’ll pay – tuition, room, books, whatever, I’ll pay. Or rather, the loans and I, we’ll pay. What happened? Ring, ring. “Dad, I need more clothes.” Okay, that sounds reasonable. I’ll pay. Ring, ring. “Dad, the old car you gave me to use won’t run. I think the starter’s burned out.” Okay, I guess you need that. I’ll buy a new starter and bring it over. Ring, ring. “Dad, I don’t like the food here at the cafeteria. I’ve been buying pizza. I need some cash.” (Did you know that the first thing every college student learns, is the phone number, 1-800-PIZZA?) I grumbled, but I paid. And kept on paying, for half an eternity, until that boy graduated.
Why? Why did I do that? It had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. It wasn’t just about his wasting money; it was about my feeling insecure, my feeling as though I was not big daddy unless I provided everything that was asked for. I wasn’t mature enough to recognize that sometimes “No” is the most loving response you can give. Giving somebody everything he or she wants at the moment is a road map to a far country.
But, thank God, there is a road map back home from the far country. There is a highway back home. And it is the way of sharing. It is the path of generosity for others. When this son came back from the far country, what did his father do? He threw a party. He celebrated. And who was invited? Was it just for the wayward boy, all by himself? Was it a cheap, little understated affair? It was not! It was a grand celebration for everybody! It was a time for the whole family, the whole community, to celebrate! It was a time for the young man to see that his father used money for things other than for himself. The young man had spent everything on himself, in the far country. He came home, broken, and saw that the father spends on his guests, spends to give others something, gives out of a generous heart, not for himself, but for others.
The road map back home from the land of self-indulgence is to let our children see that we care about others. Let them see that we care about the poor, and give to feed them. That we care about the church, and support its work. That we care about our community, and spend ourselves there. The road map back home is for our children to see that neither they nor we are the centers of the universe, and that there is far, far more joy in using what we have for others than in lavishing it on ourselves.
There are road maps to many far countries. And there are road maps for the way home from those far countries. Fathers use those road maps. Sadly, fathers sometimes use road maps to far countries. But God has also given fathers road maps for the way home. The road map that leads some out into the far country is indulgence and generosity born out of insecurity. The road map that leads them home from the far country is sharing and generosity born out of love.
II
Notice also that this father gave his son a road map to a far country by keeping emotionally distant. This father showed his son the way to the far country of alienation by keeping him at arm’s length emotionally.
When Jesus told the parable, he told us all about what the young man felt in the far country. But there is no word about what the father did to reach his son. The son, in that far country, felt exhilaration as he lived it up; he felt hunger, as the money ran out; he felt despair, as he couldn’t get a job; he felt shame, as he slopped the hogs; he felt sorrow, as he decided to go home. Felt, felt, felt: the son felt all kinds of things. But what did the father feel while the son was away? We don’t know. We are not told. There is nothing said about that. Not until the son comes home do we hear what the father feels. Before that, nothing, nada, and zilch. Is Jesus suggesting to us that the father did nothing throughout that whole time? Is Jesus telling us that dad just sat on his feelings for his son?
My fellow men: we contribute to our children’s going to far countries when we close our hearts. We provide them the road map to alienation when we keep our emotional distance. If our image of what it is to be a man is that we are supposed to be strong, silent, somber, and long-suffering, do we realize how that starves our children emotionally?
A few months ago I read about the ways in which children perceive their fathers. An astonishing number of young adults see their fathers as cold, distant, removed, and disengaged. They don’t see their mothers that way, and, in fact, a good many young adults either idolize their mothers or are caustically critical of them. Either way, at least they feel something from their mothers! But as for their fathers, according to this study, fathers are seen as absorbed in their work, devoted to doing their own thing, and glad to be removed from the burdens of child care.
If that is the case – if it is true that we men choose not to reach out to our children, not to reveal our hearts – what do we expect? How can we imagine that we will be respected? If our children get the message that they are little more than an inconvenience, small wonder that they will use that emotional road map to flee to a far country and stay there! It is time for men to make emotional connections with their families, it is time to do more than bring home the bacon and disappear to the den.
Back when I was campus minister at the University of Kentucky, I got myself into a pattern of working non-stop. I would go off to the university every morning, come home in the late afternoon for a quick meal, and run back for meetings at least three nights a week and sometimes more. Then on weekends I would hustle off to preach at one country church or another. And in between, of course I was at my desk getting ready for all of this. One evening Margaret strode up to where I was working, having put our young children to bed by herself, and she said something I have never forgotten. She said, “These children are going to be small only for a little while, and you are missing out. Worse than that, they are missing out on you. You have to change your work habits!” That really got my attention. I knew she had spoken the truth. I was too distant. And if I had kept that up, who knows what emotional far country I might have pointed them toward? Who knows what road map to spiritual starvation I might have given them? It is time for many of us to reach out and touch our children, or, for that matter, our grandchildren, our nieces and nephews, our neighbor children, our church children. Do you know so much as the names of the children who come up here every Sunday? Maybe some of the other things we’re doing don’t have to be done. But this has to be done! We must connect emotionally with our children.
I’ve got a map for this too. I brought a map of a far country named Quebec. The Greenidge family understands this map. Quebec is a Canadian province where two groups live in uneasy tension and neither truly connects with the other. Some speak English; most speak French. Some are Protestant; most are Catholic. Some want to remain in the nation of Canada; a good many want out. This is a road map of a people who live together but who are not connected. They do not truly speak to one another. They could, but they don’t. And yet what I notice about the road map of Quebec is how much room there is in this place. How much undeveloped territory, how much trackless land! How much opportunity wasted because two groups refuse to communicate!
The road map back from isolation and emotional distance is the highway of compassion. The road map God has given back from disconnectedness and distance is warmhearted, open, gracious compassion. Oh, there is no image in the Scripture more wonderful than this one:
So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.
When the son had taken all he could, and in repentance wound his way back, this father, filled with compassion, did what? Said, “I told you so”? Murmured, “It’s about time”? Sat on the porch with his arms folded in defiance? No! No! Thank God, no! This father ran out – went out to meet his son – extended himself. He put his arms around him and kissed him. Compassion. He was not afraid to let his emotions hang out. And that son knew that, yes, he was at home. At home at last.
There are road maps to many far countries. And there are road maps for the way home from these far countries. Fathers use those road maps. Sadly, fathers sometimes use road maps to far countries. But God has also given fathers road maps for the way home.
III
Our father God has given us a tremendous amount of freedom. Most of us travel a long way from where He wants us to be. I stood yesterday at the bedside of a young mother and her newborn infant, and found myself praying not only in thanksgiving for the beauty and the innocence of that child, but also in fearful anticipation of the reality that is to come – that she will disappoint her parents, break her family’s heart, and run to her own far country. She will be no different than the rest of us, for “all we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one of us into his own way”. We have followed the road maps for wandering toward a far country.
But there is a way home. There is a road map toward home. Do you miss the presence of the Father? Do you see that your cannot do life on our own? Have you learned that there are very few real friends out there in the far country? Isn’t it time just to give up and head for home? I want you to have the road map for home. I want you to know what it means to be received there.
But the father said …, ’Quickly, bring out a robe--the best one--and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’
This morning some son, some daughter, needs to come home. Home to God, home to home. You’ve wandered away because you thought you could do life all by yourself, but you’re tired now. You can’t do it . You can’t do it at all. You’ve wandered away, because you felt unloved, unaccepted. You wandered away, looking for love, but now you know it was in all the wrong places. You’re starved, you’re hungry and thirsty for love.
This morning somebody’s son, somebody’s daughter, needs to come home. But also this morning somebody’s father, somebody’s mother, needs to come home. You’ve been plugging away, trying to do your best, but it’s not working. You tried to buy affection, but it didn’t work. You tried to keep a lid on your feelings, but it was painful. Really, you want love too. You didn’t say so, but it’s true.
I have one more map for you; it’s a map of my home town. It shows me the way to some places in my heart. But I don’t really need this, for etched in my memory still is the doodle I used to draw in the sixth grade – the map of those little Louisville streets that connect me to the home where my parents raised me and to the church home where the Father embraced me. I may not go there again physically; but the love, the acceptance, the embrace I felt there, even when I went into my own far country, is strong still. I was dead, but am alive; I was lost, but now am found.
I want that for you. I cherish that for you. The Father’s arms are wide open. Forgiveness. Unconditional love. Home.
