The far country

Jesus once told a story about a man with two sons. The younger one asked for his share of the inheritance early, which amounted to saying I wish you were dead, and I’d like the money now. His father gave it to him.

Scripture — Luke 15:13–16 (OTB)

Not long after, the younger son gathered all he had and journeyed to a distant country, where he squandered his wealth in reckless living. After he had spent everything, a severe famine arose in that country, and he began to be in want. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. He desired to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one provided him with anything.

If you are reading this class, some part of that picture is probably familiar. Not the details, maybe, but the distance. You used to be near. Now you’re not.

There are many roads into the far country

The son in the story left on purpose. Not everyone does. People end up far from God by very different roads, and it matters that yours is named, because a story that doesn’t sound like yours is easy to set down.

Drift. Nobody decided anything. A busy season, a move, a new job, a relationship, a baby, a string of Sundays that got skipped. One day you noticed you hadn’t prayed in two years, and you’re not sure exactly when it stopped.

Sin, and the hiding that follows it. You went back to something you’d left, or into something new. You knew better. Maybe you promised God it was the last time, more than once. And because you felt ashamed, you stopped showing up. The hiding became the distance.

Disappointment with God. You prayed and nothing happened. Someone died who shouldn’t have. A diagnosis came, or a marriage ended, or a child walked away, and heaven was silent. The silence started to feel like an answer.

Hurt from church, or from Christians. You were judged, used, gossiped about, lied to, or worse, by people who spoke for God. If that’s your road, hear this plainly: what was done to you was wrong, and it is not how Jesus treats people. Nobody is going to ask you to pretend it didn’t happen.

Most people’s road is a mix of these. That’s fine. You don’t have to sort it out perfectly. You just have to be honest about it.

You don’t start from where you should be

Here is the first thing this class asks of you, and it is smaller than you think. Tell God where you actually are.

Not where you should be by now. Not the cleaned-up version. Not the speech you’d give if you’d had a few good months first. The real place: I haven’t talked to You in years. I’m angry at You. I’m still doing the thing. I don’t even know if I believe any more. I want to come back but I don’t know how.

That kind of prayer is not a failure to pray properly. It is the most honest prayer there is, and honesty is where every road home begins. The Psalms are full of prayers like it. God is not waiting for a better version of you to show up before He’ll listen.

The story isn’t over in the pig field

Notice where Jesus leaves the son at the end of these verses: starving, alone, envying the pigs. Jesus doesn’t skip that part. The far country is real, and it costs something.

But it isn’t the end of the story, and the rest of the story is what this class is about. Before it goes any further, though, you need to know one thing about why Jesus told it at all. Luke tells us who was listening:

Scripture — Luke 15:1–2 (OTB)

Now the tax collectors and sinners were all approaching to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were complaining, saying, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

This whole story is Jesus’ answer to that complaint. He told it because He welcomes people like the younger son. Keep that in mind as you read on.

Recite this

You can start from where you actually are.

Try it this week

Find ten quiet minutes. Read Luke 15:11–16 twice, slowly. Then tell God, in your own words, out loud or on paper, how you got to the far country and where you are right now. Don’t tidy it up.

Then think of one person you’ll tell that you’ve started this.

I will tell God honestly where I am on ________________, and I will tell ________________ that I’ve started.