Keion Henderson - The Lessons of Leaving

I want to preach on this subject. I want to talk about the lessons of leaving. I want to discuss the lessons of leaving. When I read this, I already feel the Spirit of the Holy Ghost. When I read this chapter 15 of Luke, it’s known for its mesmerizing narrative. Those of you who are in the room and those of you watching online, you’ve read this chapter, you know this chapter, you’ve seen it, where there are a multiplicity of things discussed in this one chapter. First of all, you know that there is the story of the lost coin, okay? You know that. Then you know there is the lesson of the lost sheep, and obviously, our text today is the lesson of the lost son. When I read it, I typically have been preaching this same topic since I was 14 years old. As a matter of fact, next Sunday will mark 25 years of preaching the gospel for me. I’ve been preaching it for a quarter of a century, and I’ve looked at this same text the same way—the coin gets found, Jesus leaves the 99, or gives us the lesson of leaving the 99 to go after the one—and then we know the lesson of the son, and we know he ultimately comes back home. But there is more than meets the eye, because now I see something different. I say, like Paul, when I was a child, I thought like a child, I understood like a child, I reasoned like a child, but now that I am a man, I’ve put away childish things. This suggests that because I preached this text as a young boy, I’ve always sided with the young man. It’s the story of the prodigal son, and since I’ve always been a son, I’ve always preached it from the son’s perspective. But now I’m a man. Now, I’ve been preaching for 25 years, and I’ve got a quarter-century under my belt. In eight more years, the company has to give me a gold watch. I’ve been doing it a long time, and now that I’m a father, not just in the flesh but in the spirit, I understand that something else took place beyond the story of the prodigal son. In fact, I’ve heard some theologians say this is not the story of the prodigal son; this is actually the story of the prodigal father. Whether that is true or false, or whether it’s a neutral narrative, the truth is that something else is taking place in this text. I see something different now. The context is that Jesus is now preaching to a group of Pharisees, and let me give you context: a Pharisee is a person who has an understanding of the law. They are able to function within the law, but their problem is that they don’t understand that salvation is not fixated inside of the law. Their problem is that they think that everybody is going to heaven because of works, not realizing that when Jesus Christ had come into the earth, he had instituted an ideology that faith without works is dead. They don’t understand that they have moved from a dispensation of law and legalism, and now they are under the auspices of grace. Here they are, talking to the architect of grace while still discussing the building of the law. It’s almost as if they don’t recognize that they have bread under their arm yet are still starving for salvation. They are looking at hope but don’t recognize that they are hopeless. To add injury to insult, they are looking for salvation while not realizing that they’re in the presence of the Way. It’s the quintessential definition of being insane, as they are continuously trying to do something different but are still getting the same result. This is what happens in the text. They are dealing with a Jesus who they are upset with because they don’t like his handling of people who are sinners. They’re asking him, how is it that you’re eating with people who sin? How is it that you’re associating with people who are not perfect? How is it that you are the rabbi? You are Jesus Christ! You are Emmanuel, Mary’s son. If you are in fact the one who was in the manger, the one who will walk on water, the one who will speak to the storm, if you are in fact the one who was born of a virgin, if you are in fact the one who left heaven and came to earth, and you are Jesus Christ, then you should understand that Jews don’t associate with Samaritans; Jews don’t eat with sinners. We are a royal priesthood, and we don’t hang out with people who are regular. God showed me something. I’m getting ready to blow your mind; if it doesn’t blow yours, let me tell you, it blew mine. They are talking to Jesus the Christ about why he is eating with sinners. It shows me that they are at a dinner, at a function, or involved in a conversation with somebody they do not know. They are in the face of Jesus, asking him why he is eating with sinners. Why would you touch a woman with the issue of blood, knowing that she is ceremonially unclean? Why would you meet a woman at the well if you know Jews don’t associate with Samaritans? Who are you? Are you trying to mess up the business?