Birthright

Most of us know Luke 15 as the parable of the prodigal son. But Jesus begins, "There was a man who had two sons." On Sunday, guest speaker Jess Collins helped us hear the story through the ears of its first-century Jewish audience, and showed us why the older brother matters just as much as the younger one.

More Than Birth Order

In Scripture, "firstborn" is not always simply a description of who arrived first. It can also be a position or birthright that is given. In 1 Chronicles 5:2, for example, Judah became prominent among his brothers, but the rights of the firstborn belonged to Joseph.

Jess connected this with her own experience. After her mum remarried, she went from being the eldest of three children to the eldest of six in a traditional Asian family. Her younger sister might get away with more, but Jess is often expected to step into family problems, take someone out for coffee, or speak on behalf of the siblings. Being the eldest comes with more than perks. It comes with responsibility.

For a Jewish family in Jesus' day, the firstborn carried three things:

• A special position. He represented his father and carried the authority of the household. A robe or signet ring could make that position visible.
• A special inheritance. The firstborn received a double portion of the estate.
• A special responsibility. The extra position and provision were given so he could care for the father's household.

That last part opens up Luke 15 in a fresh way.

Two Sons, Two Kinds of Lostness

Luke tells us that two groups were listening to Jesus: tax collectors and sinners who came near to hear him, and Pharisees and teachers of the law who complained that he welcomed sinners and ate with them (Luke 15:1-2). Then Jesus told a story about two sons.

The younger son asked for his inheritance while his father was still alive, left for a distant country, and wasted everything. When famine came, he ended up feeding pigs. For Jesus' Jewish listeners, this was rock bottom: pigs were unclean, yet the son was so hungry that their food looked good to him. Sin had promised freedom but left him dry, distant and stripped of dignity.

Finally, he came to his senses. He began the long walk home rehearsing an apology, hoping his father might at least take him back as a servant.

The Father Who Absorbed the Shame

While the son was still a long way off, his father saw him and ran. Jess reminded us how shocking that detail would have been. A respected man did not run through his village. To do it, he would have gathered up his long robe and exposed his ankles, accepting public embarrassment as he rushed towards the son who had shamed the family.

What should have been the walk of shame for the youngest son, the father absorbed it.

Before the son could bargain his way into servant status, the father called for the best robe, a ring and sandals. The robe restored his place in the family. The ring returned authority to his hand. The sandals clothed his dirty feet with dignity. The father did not make him prove himself before calling him a son again.

I believe as the church, historically, sometimes we've spent more time exposing shame than clothing people with dignity.

That is a searching challenge for us. When someone returns bruised by their own choices, do we stand back until they have earned our trust, or do we move towards them with the heart of the Father?

The Firstborn Who Stayed Home

Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he heard music from the house, he called a servant over to ask what was happening. Then, when he learned that his brother had returned, he became angry and refused to join the celebration.

His own words reveal how far he was from his identity: "All these years I've been slaving for you." He was the firstborn, with a place beside his father and a double portion already given, yet he saw himself as a slave trying to earn what was already his. He would not even say "my brother"; he called him "this son of yours." The father gently returned the relationship to him: "this brother of yours."

Sometimes we can go through life working, slaving, doing ministry, attending prayer meeting, talking to people, doing the good Christian life and yet be like the oldest son, because you're working to attain what's already been freely given.

But the older son had failed in another way. As the firstborn, he carried responsibility for the family. When his younger brother disappeared, he should have gone looking. While the younger son starved in a distant land, the older son stayed in the field.

It was the job of the oldest son to go out into the pig sties of humanity and bring the youngest son back to the embrace of the father.

The Pharisees standing around Jesus would have understood the challenge. They had remained near the Father's house, but they had no desire to welcome home the people he loved.

The Church of the Firstborn

Jesus is called "the firstborn of all creation" and "the firstborn from the dead" (Colossians 1:15, 18). He is the true firstborn Son: supreme in position, heir of all things, and perfectly faithful in responsibility. Unlike the older brother, Jesus did leave the Father's house to seek and save the lost.

Hebrews says that Jesus endured the cross "for the joy that was set before him" (Hebrews 12:2). Jess connected that joy with the city Abraham longed for, "whose designer and builder is God" (Hebrews 11:10). What makes a city? People. Jesus saw people far off and endured the shame of the cross to bring us home.

Then Hebrews 12:22-23 gives the name to us: we have come to Mount Zion, the city of the living God, and to "the church of the firstborn." In Christ, we have received a new position, an eternal inheritance and a family responsibility. We are not saved simply to enjoy the Father's house. We are sent to help others find their way into his embrace.

Put On the Ring

At the end of the message, everyone was given a ring. It gathers up the whole sermon in one object: the signet ring that marked out the firstborn, the ring the father pressed onto the hand of a son who came home with nothing, and the mandate that now rests on us. Jess asked us to hold them up during worship and say out loud that we accept the responsibility of the firstborn under Jesus Christ.

Let this be a reminder that spiritually, this is the birthright that's been given to us.

The nations are coming to us here in Australia. And closer still, most of us know someone living in a "distant country": someone who is spiritually dry, ashamed, hungry or far from the Father.

We already have his love. We do not need to slave for it. The question is what we will do with what we have been given. Will we keep our distance like the older brother, or will we go looking for our brother or sister and help bring them home?