Lent 4: Love can’t be counted

“It’s my turn to get the coffees!”

“Ok – but I’ll get it next time.”

In the culture I’m part of, it’s hard to give a simple gift. It’s even harder to receive a gift. Somehow, we don’t want to feel indebted to each other; there’s a part of us that wants to make sure the score is even. So we feel shameful if someone gives a Christmas present and we don’t have something to give in return. And we don’t accept help when we need it, because we don’t think we will be able to help them back. I’m happy to accept the offer for the other to buy me a coffee, but I’ll try to remember that next time it’s my turn.

On Sunday we will read a story that challenges these simple maths equations we make about who-owes-what. It is a story of a father, and two sons. The son who squanders his inherited wealth assumes that he is owed nothing; according to his maths, he has spent everything, and deserves nothing. His brother – the one who stays at home working the land – runs the same maths equation in his head. The younger brother got all that was owed to him, and should get the justice he deserves.

What they both get is a big surprise. As the younger son walks up the road towards his family, tail between his legs, expecting nothing, the father leaps up and runs down the road. As he’s running, he throws away the maths equations; he casts the aside the ledger of who is owed what. There is no place in his hands for spreadsheets and tallies, because he is using these arms now to embrace his son. His son, who he loves.

For those who still have the ledgers in their hands, this feels like a grave injustice.

But this is not a story about keeping ledgers balanced. No, this is a story about extravagant love: the kind of love that throws aside counts and tallies in order to run down a road, dressing gown flying and moccasins kicking up dust, to embrace a child you thought was dead.

This is the kind of love that we encounter in the Kingdom of God. It is the love that our God offers to us, with open arms and an open heart, and it is the kind of love we are invited to offer to each other. No tallies. No spreadsheets. No keeping track of whether I got a present this year or who paid for the coffee last. Just pure, simple love.

Words by Rev Andreana

Image by Bruno Nascimento, Unsplash