The older brother became angry…”Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you…You never gave me [a party]!” (Luke 15:28-29)

Our lives are, let’s face it, performance-driven. In my career, the focus was to get another degree, teach a new literature course, be awarded another accolade - all to improve my standing to my department chair, get a bump in salary, and (I’ll admit it) have other people notice. 

I now watch my daughter, a new mom, measure her eight-month-old daughter’s performance (such as it is) against All-Knowing Google’s benchmarks and then against her friend’s exact-same-age boy. We more experienced parents know what’s coming for both these moms: aiding their children’s performance in school, athletics, clubs, setting them up to become performance-driven adults. It’s the way the world works, we rationalize. 

Soon, though, we become what we do. What then?

Exactly. What will happen when I retire or my children grow up? How will I answer the ubiquitous first question in any new social setting: so, what do you do? Who am I when I don't do any of that any more, when my wall hangings and my children’s medals don’t matter to anyone else, when the rat race is behind me?

I’m not proposing we stop striving to be better workers or parents. We should do our best, not because our importance or value lies in how much we do, but because that honors God.

The older son in our parable mastered the performance-driven life. “‘All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed you’” (v.29). But is that what his father checkmarked off in order to love and accept him? No! “‘Everything I have is [already] yours” (v.31), he told his complaining son. “Lay your doing down, son*,” he might as well have said. “I love you because you are my son, not because you work overtime and never take a vacation. You’re an excellent worker, but that’s not what makes you my beloved son. In fact, if you’d quit working so hard to earn what you already have, we could enjoy each other’s company!” 

It’s a super easy step to understand this father represents God. One son has disrespected Him and run off. Yet, the Father watches for him to come home. Catching a far-off glimpse, the Father runs to him “filled with compassion” (v.20), not knowing if he plans to stay or even if he’s sorry. It doesn’t matter. “He was lost and is found” (v. 32). He restores His son to full acceptance - not because of the son’s actions, obviously, but because of His love. The Father also loves the older son, not because of the son’s perception that slavish devotion is the way to win acceptance. But because the Father loves His children. 

We, too, already have God’s approval, because of His grace, not our doing.

Be that college professor, that medical student, that totally exhausted mom, but know - please know - that while your striving to be the best you can be is important, it is not the source of your real value. You are fully accepted as you are because God loves you, you are His child, and nothing you did or will do can change that. Don’t wait until you’re retired to discover this truth. Let the knowledge of God’s acceptance undergird all you do in your professional world, your social sphere, and your family life.

*Credit: Tim Keller