Josh (D)’s Chapel Assembly

Let me start with a question.

 

Have you ever been forgiven… when you knew you didn’t deserve it?

Not the small kind of forgiveness — like forgetting someone’s birthday

I mean the moment where you know you’ve messed up.

Where you’re waiting for the reaction.

Waiting for the consequences.

I remember a moment like that when I was younger.

I was in the garden kicking a football around. I got frustrated, so I kicked the ball a bit harder.

…and instead of hitting the fence…

it smashed straight through our new glass garden table.

Glass everywhere.

And in that moment I knew two things.

First — that table was definitely broken.

Second — I was definitely in trouble.

So I did what every sensible child does.

I panicked.

I ran inside, already rehearsing the apology in my head. I was expecting anger. I was expecting a lecture.

But instead my mum looked at me and simply said:

“It’s alright Josh — I forgive you.”

No shouting.

No “I told you so.”

Just forgiveness.

And I remember thinking: I deserved anger.

But I received mercy.

That moment gives a tiny glimpse of the kind of love Jesus describes in one of his most famous stories — the story of the prodigal son.

When Jesus first told this story, it would have sounded shocking.

The younger son goes to his father and says,

“Give me my share of the inheritance.”

Now that might sound a bit rude to us.

But in that culture it was far worse than rude.

It was basically saying:

“I wish you were dead. I want your money now.”

Imagine saying that to your parents tonight.

It wouldn’t go down brilliantly.

But the father does something unexpected.

He gives it to him.

The son leaves home… and wastes everything.

Jesus says he spends it on reckless living.

The money disappears.

Friends disappear.

Then a famine hits.

And suddenly he has nothing.

He ends up feeding pigs — which for Jesus’ Jewish audience was about as low as you could go.

He’s starving.

Alone.

Broken.

And finally he decides to go home.

But he’s not expecting forgiveness.

He rehearses a speech.

“Father, I’ve sinned against heaven and against you. I’m not worthy to be called your son. Just make me one of your servants.”

In other words:

“I know I’ve blown it. I just hope you’ll tolerate me.”

But this is where the story takes a turn.

Jesus says that while he is still a long way off, the father sees him.

Which suggests something powerful.

The father has been watching.

Waiting.

Hoping.

And then Jesus says something that would have stunned everyone listening.

The father runs.

Now that might not sound strange to us.

But in that culture dignified men didn’t run.

To run, the father would have had to lift up his robes and sprint through the village.

It would have looked undignified.

Embarrassing even.

But he doesn’t care.

He runs.

He throws his arms around his son before the speech is finished.

Before the apology is complete.

Before the son can offer to be a servant.

The father restores him as a son.

He graciously gives him a robe.

A ring.

Sandals.

And throws a huge celebration.

The son who was lost has come home.

But there’s another character in the story.

The older brother.

And he’s furious.

He stayed.

He obeyed.

He did everything right.

And now the one who wasted everything gets the party.

And if we’re honest, we understand that reaction.

Because we like fairness.

We like people getting what they deserve.

But Jesus says the love of God doesn’t work like that.

God’s Grace isn’t something you earn.

Because if you could earn it…

it wouldn’t be grace.

And the point of the story is this:

Jesus is showing us what God is like.

God is not standing at a distance waiting for people to fail.

He’s the Father on the road.

Watching.

Waiting.

Running.

And Christians believe the greatest picture of that love is Jesus’ self-sacrifice on His Roman cross.

Imagine sitting in an electric chair.

The sentence has been passed.

The switch is about to be pulled.

And just before it happens, someone walks into the room.

He unstraps you.

Helps you stand up.

And then he sits down in the chair instead.

He takes the punishment.

You walk free.

That sounds extreme.

But that’s the point.

he cross is extreme because God’s love is extreme.

Christians believe that when Jesus died, he was taking the consequence of our wrongdoing so that we could be forgiven and brought back to God.

Because forgiveness is always costly.

When my mum forgave me for smashing the table, the table didn’t magically fix itself.

Someone still had to pay for it.

Forgiveness doesn’t pretend nothing happened.

Forgiveness absorbs the cost.

Christians believe that at the cross, God absorbs that cost himself.

But the story doesn’t end there.

The bible says that three days later Jesus rose from the dead.

And that changes everything.

Because if Jesus really did defeat death, then his words matter more than anyone else’s.

And one of the things Jesus said was this:

“I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

That’s a bold claim.

But it fits the story.

Because Jesus isn’t just pointing people towards the Father.

He’s the one making the way home for us.

He is the lamp in darkness and leads us back home.

He’s the one running toward us.

And the message at the heart of Christianity is this:

No matter how far someone has strayed

No matter what someone has done…

They are not beyond forgiveness.

God’s love is not based on our performance.

It’s based on his grace.

So maybe the real question for us this morning is simply this:

Are we willing to come home?

Not to a building.

Not to a system.

But to a Father who runs.

Because the father in Jesus’ story ran toward his son.

God the father runs.

And he is still running towards us today.

Josh (UVI D)