(Audio version; Music: "When God Ran" by: Phillips, Craig & Dean and "Prodigal" by: Sidewalk Prophets)
Introduction
My daughters conspired together last week to arrange for
my daughter Meagan, who lives in California, to surprise us by coming home for
a week. We do much better as a family when we’re all together. I had a number
of long talks with Meagan while she was home and she said something that I
think all parents would love to hear. She said she used to think that it
wouldn’t be a big deal if we ever decided to sell the house and move or
downsize. However, she said that she would now be disappointed if we ever sold
our house and moved. She said she feels a sense of peace and comfort whenever
she plans on Going Home. I’m sure
the physical house plays some role in what she senses but most of all what she
senses is the memories of a home filled with laughter, love, and grace. And
isn’t that what we are all hoping for when we are planning on Going Home? I told her that I never had
that experience growing up in a home with an abusive alcoholic father. I hated
home. When my parents got older and it came time to sell the house I grew up
in, I couldn’t wait for them to get rid of it. My childhood home was a reminder
of anger, strife, and dysfunction. There was certainly not a sense of love or
grace in my home growing up so when I got older and moved out, I dreaded Going Home. But I found a new home; a
better home; a home in relationship with my heavenly Father and finally I
experienced the joy of Going Home.
Kids
leave home for a myriad of reasons—some reasons are good some are not so good.
My girls left home to go to college at a university they believed God was
calling them to attend. They were being obedient to God’s calling for their
lives—it had nothing to do with home per se. So for them, Going Home has been easy because Going Home for my girls means going to a place where love and grace
abound. That’s not how it is for all kids. And maybe that describes you. You
left home because you believed life would be more fun away from home. Maybe
there no abuse and maybe there was an abundance of love and grace, but there
were also so many rules—rules your friends didn’t have. Suddenly, life looked
so much better away from home. So in a fit of selfishness, you packed up all
your stuff and set off on your own. At first, not having anyone telling you
what to do was like heaven, you could do whatever you wanted to do whenever you
wanted to do it. You could drink whatever you wanted, you could experiment with
drugs if you wanted and you could have sex with anyone you wanted. You kept
telling yourself, “I knew it! I knew life would be better away from home!” But
all the “friends” that loved being around you quickly faded away when your
money ran out. You had a job but you couldn’t make enough money to maintain
your carefree, party-all-night, lifestyle. You considered Going Home but you just couldn’t admit that you were wrong. But
then your life went from bad to worse and you finally hit rock bottom with no
job, no money, no place to live, and nothing to eat. Suddenly, all you could
think about was Going Home. You
tried to talk yourself out of it by reminding yourself about all the things you
hated about home—all the rules. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t remember
even one of the rules that you thought were so terrible at the time. All you
could think about was the laughter coming from downstairs while you were lying
in your warm bed on those snowy Saturday mornings. You remembered the smell of
mom’s cooking coming from the kitchen. You closed your eyes and remembered your
dad walk up behind you and for no reason kiss you on the head and say, “I love
you” and then walk away as though saying, “I didn’t want you to forget.” And
right there, that’s when you decide, you’re Going Home. And there waiting for you were the parents who never
gave up on you; never stopped loving you. There waiting for you was the love
and grace you so desperately longed for after you first rejected it.
Honestly,
absolutely nothing compares to the stories of personal redemption that people
have shared with me. People lost in their substance abuse, lost in their sex
addictions, lost in their abusive relationships, lost in selfishness as they
turned their back on God. Stories of how God never stopped waiting for them and
looking for them and when they were at their lowest point and they cried out to
God for help, how God came running to take them back and love them back to
wholeness. This is the essence of Jesus’ story of the Prodigal Son. Do you know
why I love this story? Because it’s my story! It’s probably everyone’s story to
a certain degree—it applies to those who don’t know God, yet eventually call
out to Him when all else has failed them and it applies to those who have known
and loved God yet have been entice by sin to turn away from Him. This week I
want to take a close look at the story of the Prodigal Son and maybe you’ll see
yourself in the story as I see myself in the story.
Subject
Text
Luke 15:11-32
11 Jesus
continued: “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my
share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them. 13 “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he
had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild
living. 14 After he
had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he
began to be in need. 15 So
he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his
fields to feed pigs. 16 He
longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one
gave him anything. 17 “When
he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have
food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him:
Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be
called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ 20 So he got up and went to his
father. “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was
filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him
and kissed him. 21 “The
son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no
longer worthy to be called your son.’ 22 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the
best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and
kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was
lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate. 25 “Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came
near the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 So he called one of the servants and asked him what was
going on. 27 ‘Your
brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf
because he has him back safe and sound.’ 28 “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So
his father went out and pleaded with him. 29 But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve
been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me
even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours
who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the
fattened calf for him!’ 31 “‘My
son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.
32 But we had to
celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive
again; he was lost and is found.’”
Context
It’s hard to keep track of what’s going on in these
chapters of Luke’s gospel because Jesus tells story after story after story. So
let me remind you of the setting within which Jesus is giving us this teaching.
We learn in chapter 14 that it is the Sabbath and Jesus has been invited to eat
at the house of a prominent Pharisee. But wherever there’s one Pharisee,
there’s bound to be more along with other teachers of the law, and this
occasion was no different. But try and picture this, large crowds were
traveling with Jesus and among them were tax collectors and “sinners” who
gathered around Jesus to hear him speak. The fact that there were uninvited
guests in the house was not necessarily unexpected. It was customary at
high-profile gatherings such as this to leave the door open so that the public
could enter or stand outside the door if there was no room inside so the
discussions inside the house could be heard. Unfortunately for the Pharisees,
those who usually followed Jesus lived unpopular, and usually very messy,
lives—I guess some things don’t change regardless of how much time passes
because those are the same kind of people who follow Him around today as well.
But it’s the perfect setting for the story of the Prodigal Son so let’s take a
look at Jesus’ teaching.
Text
Analysis
11 Jesus
continued: “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my
share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.
Jesus begins his story in vv. 11-12 by introducing us to a man with two sons. The young son
insists that his father give him his share of his father’s estate. The younger
son would customarily receive half as much as the older son. However, the
father had the right to do whatever he wanted with his wealth. It was generally
understood that inheritance would have been distributed upon the father’s
death. However, exceptions to this practice could also be determined by the
father. Nevertheless, Judaism frowned on the practice of inheritance
distribution prior to death stating: “‘To son or wife, to brother or friend, give
no power over yourself while you live; and give not your goods to another so as
to have to ask for them again.’”[1] But
don’t miss something very crucial in this exchange. The son is not just saying
that he wants his inheritance, he’s in essence telling his father that he
wishes he was dead! “The son clearly looks to sever his relationship to his
father and go away.”[2]
Think about the pain and insult the father must have felt. Nevertheless, the
father honors his request and lets him go.
13 “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set
off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. 14 After he had spent
everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be
in need. 15 So he
went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his
fields to feed pigs. 16 He
longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one
gave him anything.
The story begins to unfold in vv. 13-16 with the young son reveling in his new-found freedom
apart from his father. Come on! This isn’t too hard to imagine is it? Most
experts believe that the young son is just a teenager. So now we have a
teenager with a wad of money in his pocket and without the constraint of rules
from his father’s house…what could possibly go wrong? Well we soon find out
that a carefree life without rules is not always what it’s cut out to be.
Nevertheless, the son leaves behind the familiarity of home for the adventure
of a distant country. “‘A distant country’ already suggests the non-Jewish
world, and this identification is helped along by the prominence of pigs,
abhorrent to Jewish sensibilities, in the story.”[3] The
text tells us that he squandered his wealth on wild living. The Greek word used
for squander paints a picture of “Tossing one’s possessions into the wind.”[4] No
sooner had he run out of money when a famine envelops the entire country where
he is currently living. That’s when things go from bad to awful.
“Had he
possessed his initial, relative wealth he might have been able to ride out the
ensuing period of depressed economy. Having spent all he had, however, he had
little recourse but to locate himself in a situation wherein he has not only shamed
his father, but has plummeted from his status as the son of a large landowner
to that of the ‘unclean and degraded,’ for whom even the life of a day laborer
would be preferable.”[5]
In our culture, it is difficult to see the gravity of the
son’s situation. He was left with the choice of dying or herding pigs—as though
one would be better than the other for a Jew. Pigs were an unclean animal. This
represents the absolute bottom for him. He is so low that even the despised
pigs are eating while he is starving. He would gladly eat with the pigs at this
point if someone would allow it. Let me try and paint a picture of what his
life looks like: He insulted his father, he has no money left, he’s starving,
he has committed countless sins, he is working in and among unclean animals and
no one will help him—he is all alone, he is at the end of the line, he has hit
bottom.
17 “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s
hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to
my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you.
19 I am no longer
worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ 20a So he got up and went to his
father. “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was
filled with compassion for him;
We find the son at the low-point of his life in vv. 17-20a were he begins to realize
that something has to change. He recognizes the irony in his situation that his
father’s slaves are better off than he is. They have more than enough food
while he is starving to death. At this point he devises a plan to return home
to his father—but after what he’d said and done, is Going Home realistic?
“The
struggling son decides to acknowledge his folly before God and to his father.
This combination is a merism to indicate that he sinned against God and his
father…The son will act quickly and humbly. He knows he has forfeited all
rights to sonship and inheritance, but it is better to cast himself on his
father’s mercy than remain in a distant land, living a life lower than the
unclean beasts and suffering hunger. The confession pictures his repentance,
coming to the father bearing nothing but his need…He accepts the consequences
of his choices. There are no excuses, only confession and a humble request. The
picture shows what repentance looks like: no claims, just reliance on God’s
mercy and provision.”[6]
The son acknowledges to himself that the “something” his
father’s servants has is better than the “nothing” he has so he sets out on his
way home.
20bhe ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. 21 “The son said to him,
‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to
be called your son.’ 22 “But
the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him.
Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast
and celebrate. 24 For
this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So
they began to celebrate.
My favorite part of the entire story is in vv. 20b-24. The text says that while
the son was still a long way from home, his father saw him and started running
to him, when he reached him, he took him in his arms and kissed him. This scene
touches my heart at the deepest level. As a father, I can recognize my girls
from a long way off. I know how they look from the back, from the side and from
the front even at a great distance. But that’s not what I want to bring to your
attention. The text leaves us with the distinct impression that the father was
watching for him. Maybe he happened to be in the right place at the right time
or maybe he was regularly watching for him. Don’t forget, this is a parable, it
is a story with a deeper meaning. I believe it paints a picture that the father
is waiting, watching, always anticipating and hoping for the son’s return. I
want you to notice something else in the text that we generally breeze right
over—the father “ran” to his son. This may not seem unusual to you and me but
in that culture, it would be quite rare to see a wealthy, respected and elderly
man running anywhere! Add to this the public display of affection of the very
son that had shamed him publicly and we see a beautiful picture of the father’s
merciful and compassionate heart.
The son, however, is not deterred from his plan. No doubt
he recognizes the warmth and acceptance from his father but he, nevertheless, confesses
his sins to his father with the deepest humility and no expectation to be
treated as a son. I envision the scene in my mind as the father is holding his
son’s face in his hands and looking at him intently as his son is speaking but
acts as though he hears nothing his son says. Instead, even before his son is
finished speaking, he directs his servants to drape the son with a robe, place
a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. “The embrace, the kiss, and gifts
of robe, ring and sandals—these are all emblematic of the son’s honorable
restoration to the family he had snubbed and abandoned.”[7]
Thereafter the father orders the celebration to begin and the party is on! But
why? Why did the father make such a big deal out his son’s return? Well because
the son’s shame and abandonment meant that he was dead to his father and
family. He was lost, his father had lost a son. I can’t even imagine the
anguish of losing a child spiritually or physically. Sadly, some of you have so
you know very well what the father must have been going through when his son
returned. What had been lost was now found and the only response was joy and
celebration.
25 “Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the
house, he heard music and dancing. 26
So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 27 ‘Your brother has come,’ he
replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back
safe and sound.’ 28 “The
older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and
pleaded with him. 29 But
he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and
never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could
celebrate with my friends. 30 But
when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes
home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’ 31 “‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and
everything I have is yours. 32 But
we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is
alive again; he was lost and is found.’”
The older son re-enters the scene in vv. 25-32. There must have been some party at the house because the
older son could hear the music and dancing from the field. When he asks a
servant what is going on, he is told that his brother has returned and his father
has ordered a celebration. He is incredulous! So much so that he won’t even go
into the house. The older son tries to make a case for himself to his father as
the faithful son who served him and honored him while his brother did neither.
But it appears the older son, even while he stayed behind and fulfilled his
proper duties, didn’t know his father very well. How could he not know that his
father would react in this way to his brother’s return? The older son is angry—he
sees himself as having done everything right while his brother has done
everything wrong. Nevertheless, his brother is celebrated and he isn’t. He wants
his own celebration, he wants his own fattened calf, he doesn’t want a
celebration for his brother, he wants justice! The father addresses the older
son gently, in love and understanding—the Greek is translated in our idiom as
“my child.” But the father makes it clear that celebrating the younger son’s
return in no way negates the value of the older son’s faithfulness.
“He
affirms the faithfulness of the elder brother and his special place in his
heart. He accepts that his son has always been at his side. He reminds the son
that all he owns belongs to him; neither the father’s activity nor the
brother’s return in any way diminishes the elder’s status…the elder should not
lose sight of the benefits he has always had because of his access to the father.
In a sense, he has always had access to the celebration. The animals are his!”[8]
But the
younger son relinquished the benefits of being a son by turning his back on his
father. He was already suffering the self-inflicted wounds of arrogance, pride,
sin and disobedience. What would harsh justice/punishment by the father accomplish?
Perhaps the father believed the consequences endured by the younger son were
sufficient. In any event, the father’s focus was on reconciliation not on
justice/punishment. The father refuses to focus on anything other than the fact
that his son was once lost but is now found.
Application
Although the story is known as the parable of the “Prodigal
Son,” it really should be the father’s actions that stand out to us. I mean,
many, if not most of us can associate very closely with the prodigal son, lots
of us can relate to the older brother. Some of us can even associate our lives
with both of them. But few of us can relate to the father. The depth of the
father’s love is just so foreign to many of us. We can relate to the prodigal
son’s need for reconciliation, we can relate to the older son’s desire for justice,
but can we relate to the father’s attitude of grace? We struggle with trying to
determine exactly where forgiving sin and condoning sin intersect so that we
don’t offend either.
“It was
the music and dancing that offended the older son. Of course, let the younger
son return home. Judaism and Christianity have clear provisions for the
restoration of the penitent returnee, but where does it say that such
provisions include a banquet with music and dancing? Yes, let the prodigal
return, but to bread and water, not fatted calf; in sackcloth, not a new robe;
wearing ashes, not a new ring; in tears, not in merriment; kneeling, not dancing.
Has the party canceled the seriousness of sin and repentance?...The father not
only had two sons but loved two sons, went out to two sons and was generous to
two sons. Perhaps it is because of the competitive rather than cooperative
spirit of our society, but the common thought is that there must be losers if
there are winners. Hence, even in religion, it is very difficult not to think
Jews or Greek, rich or poor, saint or sinner, publican or
Pharisee, older son or younger son. But
God’s love is both/and not either/or. The embrace of the younger son did not
mean the rejection of the older; the love of tax collectors and sinners does
not at all negate love of Pharisees and scribes.”[9]
Grace
is seeing people from God’s perspective not from ours. God is first and
foremost in the business of reconciliation. Justice and punishment for sin is
also very important which is why Jesus died on a cross to pay for all the
things we did wrong so we could be reconciled to God. You see, God’s plan has
always been about relationship and reconciliation that restores relationship. God’s
salvation plan is not primarily about justice and punishment even though both
will be exacted upon unbelievers and unrepentant sinners one day. Justice and
punishment were necessary in order to make reconciliation available. And Jesus paid
the price on the cross so the Father comes running to meet us as we turn back
toward him. Justice has been served; punishment has been meted out. Repentance
(turning away from sin and toward God) leads to forgiveness which leads to a
party of reconciliation! A life of unbelief and unrepentant sin is a life that
is separated from God; like running away from home. Repentance restores that
relationship. It’s like Going Home. I
hope you might someday love the story of the Prodigal Son as much as I do.
Sometimes we read these stories and we (ok maybe just I do) put a lot of
thought into the theology of the story and miss the deep and gentle beauty of
the actual story because we know it’s a parable with fictional characters that
is intended to convey a deeper spiritual truth. So I wanted to share another
story with you from Philip Yancey’s book, What’s
So Amazing About Grace, about a teenage runaway. This isn’t a parable so
you don’t need to think really hard about some deeper spiritual meaning. It’s simply
a story about Going Home.
“A
young girl grows up on a cherry orchard just above Traverse City, Michigan. Her
parents, a bit old-fashioned, tend to overreact to her nose ring, the music she
listens to, and the length of her skirts. They ground her a few times, and she
seethes inside. ‘I hate you!’ she screams at her father when he knocks on the
door of her room after an argument, and that night she acts on a plan she has
mentally rehearsed scores of times. She runs away.
She has
visited Detroit only once before, on a bus trip with her church youth group to
watch the Tigers play. Because newspapers in Traverse City report in lurid
detail the gangs, the drugs, and the violence in downtown Detroit, she
concludes that is probably the last place her parents will look for her.
California, maybe, or Florida, but not Detroit.
Her
second day there she meets a man who drives the biggest car she’s ever seen. He
offers her a ride, buys her lunch, arranges a place for her to stay. He gives
her some pills that make her feel better than she’s ever felt before. She was
right all along, she decides: her parents were keeping her from all the fun.
The
good life continues for a month, two months, a year. The man with the big
car—she calls him ‘Boss’—teaches her a few things that men like. Since she’s
underage, men pay a premium for her. She lives in a penthouse, and orders room
service whenever she wants. Occasionally she thinks about the folks back home,
but their lives now seem so boring and provincial that she can hardly believe
she grew up there.
She has
a brief scare when she sees her picture printed on the back of a milk carton
with the headline ‘Have you seen this child?’ But by now she has blond hair,
and with all the makeup and body-piercing jewelry she wears, nobody would
mistake her for a child. Besides, most of her friends are runaways, and nobody
squeals in Detroit.
After a
year the first sallow signs of illness appear, and it amazes her how fast the
boss turns mean. ‘These days, we can’t mess around,’ he growls, and before she
knows it she’s out on the street without a penny to her name. She still turns a
couple of tricks a night, but they don’t pay much, and all the money goes to
support her habit. When winter blows in she finds herself sleeping on metal
grates outside the big department stores. ‘Sleeping’ is the wrong word—a
teenage girl at night in downtown Detroit can never relax her guard. Dark bands
circle her eyes. Her cough worsens.
One
night as she lies awake listening for footsteps, all of a sudden everything
about her life looks different. She no longer feels like a woman of the world.
She feels like a little girl, lost in a cold and frightening city. She begins
to whimper. Her pockets are empty and she’s hungry. She needs a fix. She pulls
her legs tight underneath her and shivers under the newspaper she’s piled atop
her coat. Something jolts a synapse of memory and a single image fills her
mind: of May in Traverse City, when a million cherry trees bloom at once, with
her golden retriever dashing through the rows and rows of blossomy trees in
chase of a tennis ball.
God, why did I leave, she
says to herself, and a pain stabs at her heart. My dog back home eats better than I do now. She’s sobbing, and she
knows in a flash that more than anything else in the world she wants to go
home.
Three
straight phone calls, three straight connections with the answering machine.
She hangs up without leaving a message the first two times, but the third time
she says, ‘Dad, Mom, it’s me. I was wondering about maybe coming home. I’m
catching a bus up your way, and it’ll be there about midnight tomorrow. If
you’re not there, well, I guess I’ll just stay on the bus until it hits
Canada.’
It
takes about seven hours for the bus to make all the stops between Detroit and
Traverse City, and during that time she realizes the flaw in her plan. What if
her parents are out of town and miss the message? Shouldn’t she have waited
another day or so until she could talk to them? And even if they are home, they
probably wrote her off as dead long ago. She should have given them some time
to overcome the shock.
Her
thoughts bounce back and forth between those worries and the speech she is
preparing for her father. ‘Dad, I’m sorry. I know I was wrong. It’s not your
fault; it’s all mine. Dad, can you forgive me?’ She says the words over and
over, her throat tightening even as she rehearses them. She hasn’t apologized
to anyone in years.
The bus
has been driving with lights on since Bay City. Tiny snowflakes hit the
pavement rubbed worn by thousands of tires, and the asphalt steams. She’s
forgotten how dark it gets out here. A deer darts across the road and the bus
swerves. Every so often, a billboard. A sign posting the mileage to Traverse
City. Oh, God.
When
the bus finally rolls into the station, its air brakes hissing in protest, the
driver announces in a crackly voice over the microphone, ‘Fifteen minutes,
folks. That’s all we have here.’ Fifteen minutes to decide her life. She checks
herself in a compact mirror, smoothes her hair, and licks the lipstick off her
teeth. She looks at the tobacco stains on her fingertips, and wonders if her
parents will notice. If they’re there.
She
walks into the terminal not knowing what to expect. Not one of the thousand scenes
that have played out in her mind prepared her for what she sees. There, in the
concrete-walls-and-plastic-chairs bus terminal in Traverse City, Michigan,
stands a group of forty brothers and sisters and great-aunts and uncles and
cousins and a grandmother and great-grandmother to boot. They’re all wearing
goofy party hats and blowing noise-makers, and taped across the entire wall of
the terminal is a computer-generated banner that reads ‘Welcome home!’
Out of
the crowd of well-wishers breaks her dad. She stares out through the tears
quivering in her eyes like hot mercury and begins the memorized speech, ‘Dad,
I’m sorry. I know…”
He
interrupts her. ‘Hush child. We’ve got no time for that. No time for apologies.
You’ll be late for the party. A banquet’s waiting for you at home.’”[10]
[1] Darrell
L. Bock, Luke—The NIV Application
Commentary, (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Publishing House, 1996), p. 412.
[2] Darrell
L. Bock, Luke 9:51-24:53—Baker Exegetical
Commentary on the New Testament, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1996), p.
1310.
[3] Joel B.
Green, The Gospel of Luke—The New
International Commentary on the New Testament, (Grand Rapids, MI: William
B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1997), p. 580.
[4] Bock, Luke—ECNT, p. 1310.
[5] Green, Luke—NICNT, pp. 580-581.
[6] Bock, Luke—ECNT, pp. 1312-1313.
[7] Green, Luke—NICNT, p. 583.
[8] Bock, Luke—ECNT, p. 1319.
[9] Fred B.
Craddock, Luke—Interpretation,
(Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1990), p. 188.
[10] Philip
Yancey, What’s So Amazing About Grace,
(Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Publishing House, 1997), pp.49-51.
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