The Problem with Being Good

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Good morning Chapel family. Great to be with you all today. We’ve been taking the past few weeks to do a deep dive in Luke chapter 15. The chapter starts with Jesus teaching, and gathered around him, listening to him teach, are the tax collectors and sinners. The most despised members of society. Standing over to the side, watching all this, are the most respected members of society: the Pharisees and teachers of the law. And when the religious people see Jesus spending time with such unreligious people, they can’t believe it. And they mutter: “This man welcomes sinners, and even eats with them.”

So in response to the muttering, Jesus tells three stories: a shepherd who loses one of his sheep, a woman who loses one of her coins, and a father who loses one of his sons. In all three parables, the person who incurred the loss takes the loss deeply personally, they desperately want to get back what they lost, and when they finally get it back, they throw a party.

So through the collective force of these three parables told back to back to back, Jesus is showing us how God feels about lost people: he is passionate about finding them and bringing them home. If you have lost people that you love—prodigal sons or daughters or friends who have pushed away from God, this is how God feels about them—he’s passionate about finding them and bringing them home, and God invites us to join him in that passion.

So let’s focus on that third story—the Prodigal Son. The father welcomes his son back into the family, they kill the fattened calf and throw the greatest party they’ve ever seen. It’s the perfect ending for this whole thing! The son is back; he’s learned his lesson; everybody’s happy! Right? Not quite. There is one person who’s not happy at all. The fattened calf. No—actually, the older brother. The obedient one who stayed at home! He’s not having a good day. This last message is all about him.

And there’s a very good chance this last message is all about you. If you have ever felt like bad people get let off the hook to easily, this message is for you. If you’ve ever wrestled with self-pity, this message is for you. If you ever find it hard to forgive people, this message is for you. See, this series is all about people who are far from their Father, right? But could it be that you can be far from your Father, even while you’re living in his house?

Let’s read the conclusion of the chapter: Luke 15, beginning in verse 25. I invite you now to hear the Word of God…

25 “Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 27 ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’

28 “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 29 But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

31 “‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’” This is the Word of the Lord.

Today I want to talk about two things: The Poison of Pride and The Invitation of the Father. The Poison of Pride and The Invitation of the Father.

So, first: The Poison of Pride. Do you see any of yourself in that older brother? If I had to pick one word to summarize what he was struggling with, I would choose the word “pride.” Pride is very often hidden deep inside us, until a situation like this brings it to the surface.

So the older brother is coming in from working in the fields, which he does every day, faithfully. Religiously. But this particular day, he hears a sound coming from the house. It sounds like music. Happy music—like the kind you hear at weddings and birthdays. That’s strange. So he calls one of the servants over: What’s going on in there. The servant says, “You haven’t heard? Your brother came back! And your father is so happy, he killed the fattened calf! The party’s on!” And the older brother stands there a minute, taking in the news. And the more he stands there, the more angry he gets. The very thought of going in and joining that party sickens him, so he stays outside. Somebody finds the father in the party, “Hey—your older son is outside; he seems mad.” So the father goes out and pleads with his son to come in. And the son’s response tells us so much about the pride in his heart. I see three marks of pride—see if you can relate to any of these…

First: Self-Righteousness. Look at verse 29: But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders.’ Self-righteous people are really good at keeping track of their own good deeds. Right? All these years I’ve been slaving for you. You want to see my time sheets? You want to see the evidence? Because I’ve kept records! I’ve been slaving away in cold weather; in hot weather; in rain and snow. I’ve been so good! That’s self-righteousness.

You know when I can tell I’m slipping into self-righteousness? When my wife and I are having a friendly disagreement, otherwise known as an argument, and I start to list off all the good things I’ve done for her. Do you ever find yourself doing that? “How could you be upset with me? I take out the garbage! I bring you coffee! I emptied the dishwasher this morning! I cleaned up after the dog! All these years I’ve been slaving for you!” It says in 1 Corinthians 13 that love keeps no record of wrongs; but love also doesn’t keep a record of “rights”—good things—in yourself! I know I’m not in a good place when I pull out my resume and start reeling it off. “Let me remind you how good I am.” It means I’m way to satisfied with myself.

See, older brother types base their self-image on what they’ve done: “I’m hard-working—I get to the office at 6:30 every morning.” You know, those people who love to remind you how early they got to work? Or, “I’m a moral person—I always try to do the right thing.” Or, “I’ve served in the Sunday School ministry for 30 years!” That’s what gives them their identity. And therefore, they look at people who don’t work as hard, or who don’t do as many good things, and they can’t help but look down on them. They can’t help but feel superior to them.

Did you ever see someone who decides to eat healthy, and pretty soon, they start to look at everyone else as slobs and gluttons. Right? “I can’t believe you’re eating that white bread. I only eat whole grains. I can’t believe you’re eating any bread—I eat only keto. I eat only Atkins, so I can look like Rob Lowe. Are you still drinking cow’s milk? I only drink organic soy.” And everybody around them is thinking, “Just stop.” But you’ve seen that, right? When you feel like you’re doing the right thing, it’s natural to start feeling superior to everyone else. This older brother felt morally superior to his little brother. And that’s called self-righteousness.

See, even though the older brother had never physically left his father’s house, his self-righteousness was pushing him away from his father’s heart.

Here’s the second mark of pride: Self-Pity. Look at the second part of verse 29—I’ve been slaving for you all these years, Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. That’s self-pity. It’s the belief that I’m getting a raw deal in life. I’m not getting treated the way I deserve to be treated—by God, or by other people, or both. It’s not fair.

See, many of us expect life to follow a simple formula—here it is: If I obey the rules, and if I work hard, life should go well for me. Not perfect, but pretty well. I’m keeping my end of the bargain, so God should keep his end. Or, in the case of the older brother, dad should keep his end. So that’s the formula: if you’re good, God owes you a nice life. So what happens if you’re trying to be good, and obedient …and things don’t work out so well? You get sick…you lose your job…your girlfriend leaves you. Or maybe nothing tragic happens, but you never seem to get anything special. You never seem to get the bonus or the raise or the recognition. What do you do then?

It would be normal to be sad, right? But if you’re looking at life like an older brother, and you realize your formula isn’t working, you get angry. You get bitter. You feel ripped off. And you start to pity yourself. Can you relate to that?

These past five weeks since my cancer diagnosis, I’ve had to wrestle with this. Because I didn’t expect this right now. I figured I’d have serious health challenges in my 70s, but not in my early 50s. So I’ve had to search my heart and ask myself, “Do I believe God owes me something better than this? Should I feel ripped off by a God who could have stopped this?” And I realize I could go down that road. Thankfully, God has kept me from going there. I think maybe from being a pastor all these years, and seeing the tremendous suffering other people go through, God’s helping me to keep it in perspective. But if I’m not careful, I could see slipping into self-pity.

And from there, it’s a short step to developing a martyr complex—like, “I’m getting a raw deal; the world is against me; nobody understands how hard I have it.” And it’s a funny thing—because that martyr complex—that pervasive self-pity—can become like a badge of honor. That can actually fuel your anger and your energy to live—because the world has done you wrong.

When we live like that, it actually reveals something very important about our hearts. It reveals the reason we were trying be good and follow God in the first place: it wasn’t because we love God, and we want to honor him. We were doing it so life would go well for us! So when life doesn’t go well, we feel betrayed and angry. Like the big brother, standing outside the party, refusing to go in.

See, even though the older brother had never physically left his father’s house, his self-pity was pushing him away from his father’s heart.

One more sign of pride: Resentment. Look at verse 30: But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’ If self-pity is one side of the coin, resentment is the other side. Self-pity says, “I don’t deserve to be treated this bad”; resentment says, “They don’t deserve to have it this good!” Are you following me? So resentment is when you see someone who’s lazier or less responsible or less spiritual than you are, and yet they seem to be getting blessed more than you, and it bothers you.

I’ve studied this passage in small groups many times over the years. Can I tell you one of the most common comments people make about the older brother? “The kid’s got a point!” Right? You can’t blame him for being a little bent out of shape! Because most of us know this feeling!

When I was in college, I had a dream to run a marathon in under 3 hours. That was my life goal. So I was training like crazy for a marathon called the Marine Corps Marathon. Meanwhile, there was a guy in my fraternity—I’ll call him Rob. And Rob had been a good high school runner, but now he spent literally every day drunk. He was the classic frat guy—always partying, always drinking, skipping most of his classes. And Rob decided to sign up for the same marathon I was running. So Rob would go out and run 3 miles here; 5 miles there—between parties. Meanwhile I’m training hard: 10-mile runs; 14-mile runs. A month before the race, I got injured and couldn’t even do it. Rob did it—and he ran it in 2:56. And when I heard the news, I was just so happy for him! I actually struggled with it! Because he didn’t deserve it! I was the one who trained hard; he was the one who drank hard; and he had the success. Resentment.

Like the younger brother in this story! He shamed the family name; he wasted the family money; and now he comes back home and they throw a party? And the older brother is thinking, “It’s just not right.”

Years ago there was a guy here at The Chapel who had overcome a heroin addiction. And after he was clean for a while, we asked him if he could come up and share his story at one of our services. So he did—he talked about how he got hooked on the drug, and the damage it did to his life and his relationships, and all the years he lost. And then he talked about how God sent the right people into his life, and he got into treatment, and how he was living a new life—it was an amazing story of God’s power. And as he walked off the platform, the congregation applauded—to show their encouragement and support. Beautiful moment. But not for everyone. One guy came up to me after the service, and he said, “I don’t get it. This guy makes terrible decisions, and then he turns his life around, and we clap for him? What about all the people that never made those dumb choices in the first place? Where’s the applause for them?” I’m sure he wasn’t the only one in the room thinking that. And I literally said to him, “Please go and read the Prodigal Son story—especially that last part about the older brother.”

Did you hear the tone of accusation in the older brother’s voice? You never gave me a young goat to celebrate with my friends, but this son of yours wastes all your money and you kill the fattened calf for him!” Who’s he accusing? His father. See, he resents his little brother, but at the deepest level, isn’t his resentment directed at his dad? We thought the younger son was disrespectful when he demanded his inheritance early, but the older son has his own way of showing disrespect. Doesn’t he?

So even though he’d never left home physically, his resentment was pushing him away from his father’s heart.

It took me a while to see this, but over the years I’ve realized this is really the story about two prodigal sons. Isn’t it? In their own ways, both of these sons were lost. The younger son showed his lostness through partying and rebellion—it’s hard to miss that. But the older son also showed his lostness—through self-righteousness. Self-pity. Resentment. Those things might be more socially acceptable, but at the end of the day they were both just as lost; both just as far from the Father’s heart. The Pharisees listening to Jesus probably couldn’t relate very well to the rebellious little brother, but maybe some of them were starting to see themselves in the self-righteous older brother. Because Jesus was clearly talking to them. And to most of us.

Pride is poisonous! But when we see it in ourselves, it’s an amazing opportunity to turn from it and embrace something better. So let’s talk about The Invitation of the Father. So the older brother is standing outside the house, seething with anger. And verse 28 says So his father went out and pleaded with him. Why do you plead with someone? Because you want them to see things in a

different way. Right? And you care enough about them that you take your time to go to them and reason with them. Because you want so much for them to turn from their wrong thinking and see things in a better light. In other words, you want them to repent—which means to turn around—to have a radical change of heart and mind.

Remember what happened to the younger brother? He was in the pigpen, starving, and there was that moment when he came to the end of himself, and he turned toward his father, and he said, “I need to go back to him.” That was his moment of repentance—and that has to happen: as much as God orchestrates people and situations to pursue us, and lets us feel the pain and the emptiness of the way we’re living—so God does his part, right? But there comes a point where we need to choose to turn to Him. So we saw that moment in the life of the younger brother. And now it’s the older brother’s turn. Because he’s faced with the ugliness and the self-righteousness and the anger of his own heart. And he has the opportunity to turn from that, and be embraced by the father.

The father pleads with his son because he loves him! And he hates to see his firstborn son so eaten up by his own misery and anger. He knows how much more joyful his son’s life could be. So he pleads.

And then, after the older son hurls all those angry accusations at his father, here’s what dad says—verse 31: 31 “‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’” “We had to celebrate and be glad!” There was no option here! This party will happen! The only question is, older brother, will you come in and join us? Because you are invited! But you have to swallow your pride first.

You know what the problem is? Younger brother sins are so obvious. They’re so blatant. And everybody knows they need to repent. Older brother sins are much more subtle. Because they’re disguised as religion, and morality. So it’s much harder for religious people to realize their sin and repent. And that’s why, if you’re a responsible, religious person, if you’re not careful, you will grow older, and as you grow older you’ll grow more bitter, and resentful, and critical of others, and mad at God, and you’ll be miserable. And Jesus leaves us hanging! He never tells us what that older brother decided to do. Probably because he wants us to reflect on ourselves.

So what about you? Are you more of a younger brother type, or an older brother type? Are you a rebellious, free spirit, break the rules kind of person, like the younger brother? Or are you a responsible, disciplined, upstanding citizen, like the older brother? Either way—whichever one you are—you have to see that it’s possible to be just as far from God either way. Right? Both brothers were lost! One of them looked like a bad boy; the other one looked like a very good boy…but they were both lost! And here’s the beautiful thing: the father wanted both of them back. If you find yourself far from God because of rebellion or because of self-righteousness, God wants you back.

When he saw his younger son coming back home, remember what the father did? He ran to his son. Completely undignified for a Middle Eastern man, but the father really didn’t care. So now he’s with his other son, and he’s pleading: again, not a very dignified thing for a father to do. And you begin to understand that this father is willing to put aside his dignity for the sake of love. How awesome to be loved by a Father like that.

We said last week that everything Jesus taught, he taught in light of a coming event that would change everything. Every parable, every teaching of Christ, was taught in light of the cross, and you can’t understand them apart from the cross. So here is this father who’s willing to put aside his dignity and run to his son, and plead with his other son. But on the cross, God suffered the deepest indignity of all time. He allowed himself to be stripped, and beaten, and mocked, and publicly shamed, and

ultimately killed like a common criminal. There is no more undignified way to die. But that’s what God did for us at the cross.

And on the cross, Jesus paid the price for all the younger brother sins, like drinking and sexual immorality and disrespecting parents—he covered all that. And he also paid the price for all the older brother sins, like self-righteousness and self-pity and resentment. He paid it all. So whether you’re more younger brother or more older brother, he’s got you covered! You just have to repent and turn to him. And by the way, repentance is not just a one-time deal—like “I did that 20 years ago!” Every time I catch myself acting like that rebellious younger brother, and every time I see myself acting like that smug, self-righteous older brother, I have to repent all over again. And every time, God gladly welcomes me back.

Michael Reeves wrote a book called Delighting in the Trinity, and he compares two ways to look at God. He says one way is to view God as the Supreme Ruler of the Universe. Which is true, right? God is that. But he says the problem is, if that’s the main way you view God, your focus is all about the rules, and whether I follow the rules or break the rules. And if that’s how you view God, then your relationship with him can’t be any better than your relationship with any traffic cop. So follow me on this: if I get caught speeding (which would never happen, because I’m a pastor)—if I get caught speeding and I get pulled over, and the police officer says, “You broke the rules, but I’m going to let you off with a warning. Slow down,” if that happens, I’ll be relieved, and I’ll be thankful, but I won’t love that officer. Relief and gratitude are great, but they’re not the same thing as love. So if your primary view of God is the Supreme Ruler, you won’t love a God like that.

But there’s another way to view God. In all of Jesus’ teaching, including the Prodigal Son parable, how does he portray God? As a father. That doesn’t mean God doesn’t have any rules—he does. But he’s so much more than just a giver of rules, or even a forgiver of rule-breakers. He’s a father who loves his kids.

When we decide to walk away from him he feels the loss personally—just like any good father would.

He gives us freedom to make our own choices, and he allows us to experience the consequences of those choices—just like a good father.

When we come to our senses and turn back to him, he doesn’t beat us up or shame us or lecture us; he has compassion on us, and he runs to embrace us—like any good father would.

And no matter why we’ve been distant from God—whether it’s because of rebellion or self-righteousness—he always saves a seat for us his table. Because he’s our Father.

And here’s the point: when you realize this is what God is like, you’re not just relieved that your sins are forgiven; this is the kind of God who is worthy of our love. If you have struggled to feel a deep love for God, and you’ve struggled to worship and pray and enjoy him, maybe it’s because you’ve been viewing him as the Supreme Ruler of the Universe. And today Jesus invites you to see God for who he really is: your Father.