Lost at Home

Foundry UMC

Lost at Home

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, March 4, 2018, the third Sunday in Lent. “Dissonance” sermon series.

Text: Luke 15:1-2, 11-32

I have a tendency to get lost. My discombobulated sense of direction is legendary among those who know me best. I get turned around if I go in one door of a building and exit another. My college friends laugh at how I’d get lost in our then small, university town of Georgetown, TX. In the days prior to a soothing mechanical voice on my phone guiding me to my destination, the struggle was real. I’ve been told I’d figure out a way to get lost even at home.

That’s where we find the elder son in the parable today: lost at home. Unlike his younger brother, this son is not prone to wander, has stayed home, has nurtured his “type A” tendencies, has followed the rules, has gotten it right, has done everything he could to please, to be the good son, to do what was asked, to produce and achieve and succeed. How could he be lost when he likely is praised and respected by many in his community? This son never ran off or strayed from the righteous path. So why would anyone suggest that he is lost?

The late priest and teacher Henri Nouwen describes home as “the center of my being where I can hear the voice [of God] that says, ‘You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests.’”[i] When the elder son returns from his work in the fields to find a party underway for his deadbeat, profligate brother, the exchange he has with his father is telling. The father uses an affectionate term in addressing his eldest son: teknon, my child, “you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.” (Lk 15:31) But the elder son’s initial response reveals that even though he’s stayed at the house where he was raised, he is lost—that is, he doesn’t know where he is—he doesn’t acknowledge the voice of love for him or the gifts always available and already sustaining him. He’s at his house, but he doesn’t know he’s also home, loved, provided for, and favored by his father. He’s already got what he needs, but is looking for something else to prove and affirm his worth. “Don’t you see how hard I’ve worked and how I’ve done all the right things and never given you cause to suffer because of me? Don’t you think your ability to throw such a lavish party even after wasting your money on that son of yours is because of how hard I have worked to make this place successful? Where’s my barbecue?”

Jesus tells this parable in response to the grumbling and disapproval of the “good people”—the Pharisees and scribes, the rule followers, those who are trying so hard to follow God’s wisdom and way. These good folk are concerned that Jesus fraternizes with people of questionable reputation. Ostensibly this concern is because the religious purity laws were clear that to eat and drink with—and even to touch—such folk was against the rules. So these saints of the church stand outside the halls of feasting and dancing where “those people” seem carefree and are having all the fun and are getting the attention the good folks crave. And I imagine many try to do the right thing; maybe they even try to be understanding and gracious; but they still find themselves angry and judgey and grumbling, despite themselves.

Jesus’ allegory in the parable presses gently but firmly upon those who want to do good—all the rule-following “elder sons.” Anyone here have something in common with the elder son? I, of course, don’t care at all about doing the right thing or being faithful, successful, or liked ?. I know so many in this beloved community have worked hard to be faithful, honest, gracious, helpful, committed, loving, patient—doing the work of discipleship for so many years—serving on committees and in kitchens, taking to the streets and kneeling with children in classrooms, rehearsing in choirs, befriending the homeless and poor, and rearranging portfolios in order to make an impactful gift… Does anyone see? Does anyone remember? Why all the attention given to these latecomers? Am I taken for granted? Where’s my barbecue?

No one here may ever consciously have any of these thoughts or feelings—Lord knows no one wants to! And, by the way, it is perfectly reasonable and healthy to need acknowledgement and affirmation in community and in relationship when we are working so hard to be a good friend, a good team member, a good partner, a good spouse, a good daughter or son. But there is that thing that can so easily sneak in and wreak havoc on our spirits, our perspective, our relationships. //

That thing is resentment. Webster defines resentment as “a feeling of indignant displeasure or persistent ill will at something regarded as a wrong, insult, or injury.” Resentment is one of the most destructive realities in human relationship. What may start as a benign awareness of some need that hasn’t been met or righteous anger at a real injustice can (unchecked) grow into a deadly habit, poisoning our perspective so that we unconsciously lie in wait for the moment we are injured or insulted again; then that injury fuels the growing resentment. This nasty cycle happens in all kinds of relationships—friendships, work relationships, marriages, sibling relationships, and relationship between parent and child. One psychologist writes about resentment as an impolite house guest who comes in and never knows when to leave.[ii] Resentment kills relationships. It can be very powerful.

Resentment can worm its way into even the most loving people, the most generous people, those trying hardest to do the right things. I am humbled by the witness of the late Henri Nouwen, the lifelong practitioner of the Christian faith, priest, pastor, and teacher. Nouwen writes about his own struggle with resentment saying, “Returning home from a lustful escapade seems so much easier than returning home from a cold anger that has rooted itself in the deepest corners of my being. My resentment is not something that can be easily distinguished and dealt with rationally. It is far more pernicious: something that has attached itself to the underside of my virtue…At the very moment I want to speak or act out of my most generous self, I get caught in anger or resentment. And it seems that just as I want to be most selfless, I find myself obsessed about being loved. Just when I do my utmost to accomplish a task well, I find myself questioning why others do not give themselves as I do. Just when I think I am capable of overcoming my temptations, I feel envy toward those who gave in to theirs. It seems that wherever my virtuous self is, there also is the resentful complainer.”[iii]

Perhaps your issues aren’t Nouwen’s, but his insight is powerful. When we’re trying to do the right thing, to be kind, generous, responsible—precisely then resentment can arise. That’s the elder son’s story. And it is often mine. When I work and work without creating adequate rest or play time, I can get resentful of others who seem to be having all the fun! (like on Friday when Pastor Dawn texts me a picture of her food from Carolina Kitchen while I was still at the computer late in the day writing—who cares that Friday is her Sabbath??) And why do the dogs favor Anthony when I’m the one getting up at the crack of dawn when the puppy wakes up? Maybe you know what it’s like when you’re working so hard at home or at work and feel taken for granted. Who sees how hard I’m working? Where’s my Carolina Kitchen? Where’s my feast?

It seems there are at least a couple of things we can say or do about the resentments we hold. First, we might try to identify what it is that we really need and then ask for that. If you need acknowledgement of your work, an explanation of why something happened, a renegotiation of household duties, help with a task, try asking. I wonder whether the elder son ever thought to ask his father whether they could have a party to celebrate a good harvest or other fruits of his hard work. It’s also helpful to try to consider what’s going on with the person who may be the focus of your resentment and pray for the grace to have compassion. Some resentments grow out of deeper or old places of hurt, loss, or lack, and it’s impossible to ask for anything that would satisfy the original injury. In that case, the thing to consider is forgiveness, difficult as that always is… But letting go of whatever fuels resentment is so important if we ever want to truly find our way home.

Regardless of where you are today along that journey, God’s voice remains steadfast saying: “Teknon, my child, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. My precious child, I see you, I know how hard you are working, I know how hard you are trying. I am always present and waiting to share with you what you need; you are the Beloved, on you my favor rests.” Resentment keeps us from receiving this gift, from acknowledging that we dwell in God’s love and favor, that we have been there all along.

There was a feast underway, a great celebration of love and grace and restored relationship, and the elder son refused to go in. There’s a feast here today, a great celebration of love and grace and restored relationship. It’s not just for others. It’s for you. Because wherever you are on the journey, you are HOME.

[i] Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son (New York: Doubleday, 1992), 37.

[ii] https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-forgiving-life/201703/why-resentment-lasts-and-how-defeat-it

[iii] Nouwen, 75-76.