Rejoice With Me
By Anthony Casperson
7-5-25

Orange glowed past cracks of the dark landscape. An occasional pop from the magma sent molten debris around the pair of men. A woman lay unconscious on the ground nearby. And a shining silvery spaceship dominated the island of solid ground they all found themselves on.

It’s here in this scene from Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, on the planet Mustafar, that audiences witness the final denial of Anakin to return from the Dark Side of the Force.

Padme and Obi-Wan had each desired to call the falling Jedi Knight back to the light. Both had realized how much he’d been deceived. And in their own unique ways, they’d reached out a hand for his redemption, if only he would take it.

But Anakin had already reached back to force choke his wife to unconsciousness. And snarled back at Obi-Wan. The way of the Jedi had failed, according to Anakin’s Sith-bent perspective. And while Obi-Wan tried to point out that Anakin’s actions had led him to become exactly what they’d set out to fight against, the younger man refused to listen.

Throughout the argument—and consequent fight—Obi-Wan’s only desire was to redeem the man whom he’d viewed as a brother. The man who once had been the boy he’d helped raise. Love urged Obi-Wan to invite Anakin back to the Light Side of the Force.

But Anakin continued to refuse. He gave in to the hate. And even burned near to death, with nearly half of his body missing, he continued to scream vile words from his burned and cracked lips.

At this, Obi-Wan comes to realize that his friend was lost. The continual refusal to return with Obi-Wan had left Anakin to the negative fate he chose. (Thankfully, we know that in Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, Luke helps his father return to the light, as Obi-Wan had desired to do so many years previous. But that’s a story for another time.)

It’s Obi-Wan’s words of Anakin truly being lost that made me think about how it relates to this week’s passage in our summer series through the parables of Jesus that we’re calling, “Mysteries of the Kingdom.” Well, actually we’ll be looking at three parables, but that makes the connection to Episode III all the more interesting, right?

Each of these three parables are well known. And each speaks to the same point. Yet, the final parable is the most famous of the bunch, as the core of the kingdom ethic finds it’s greatest application there.

However, speaking of application, most people who teach and preach from this passage only speak to half of the application. They often miss half of the audience—specifically, the half that caused Jesus to tell the parables in the first place. And we find that context at the beginning of Luke 15, just before the triple parables of the lost: The Lost Sheep, The Lost Coin, and The Lost Son(s).

Luke 15:1 shows that many tax collectors and sinners had gathered around Jesus. “Sinners” is the generic term used for people that the cultural and religious elite considered to be so far removed from God that there was no hope for them. They’re the people that “proper citizens” of the country just looked right past.

But Jesus didn’t look past them. And that truth caused the Pharisees and scribes (the political and religious elite) to grumble about Jesus’ actions. They complained about how detestable his acceptance of those “sinners” was. And trust me, they “accidentally” spoke that inner monologue out loud. At max volume.

It’s into this mixed crowd of “sinners” and the grumbling “righteous” that Jesus looks as he decides to tell these parables about the Kingdom of God. Two sides who are both lost in their own unique ways.

Verses 4-7 show us the parable about the lost sheep. Jesus asks who among those present, if they were to have a hundred sheep wouldn’t leave the ninety-nine in order to find the one that had been lost?

Interestingly, the word for “leave” can also mean, “abandon.” So, it almost sounds like the shepherd is reckless. Sure, some commentators might suggest that there were other fellow shepherds that a person could leave their sheep with to find one that had been lost, but the passage doesn’t say that. And since it uses a word for “abandon,” it makes me wonder about that suggestion.

However, more importantly to the trio of parables, the word for “lost” can also be translated as, “destroyed,” “killed,” or “ruined.” Much will be said about this word later, but it’s important to tag it here so that we can see the narrative thread between the three stories.

Jesus continues his parable by speaking of the shepherd finding the sheep, carrying it home, and calling his friends and neighbors to rejoice with him. That which had been lost was now found. It was time to celebrate life, above all else.

As a matter of fact, Jesus compares this story to the rejoicing in heaven when one “sinner” comes to repentance. It’s definitely more rejoicing than over ninety-nine “righteous” people who believe that they don’t need to repent.

Without missing a beat, Jesus turns to the second parable, found in verses 8-10. It might be shorter, and speak to the same point, but it is no less important.

He asks what woman, if she were to have ten coins, wouldn’t search for one that got lost? Likely, this was the woman’s dowry—a poor representation of one, depending on the denomination of coin. And thus, the loss of 10% of the money would be quite dire.

This is why the woman goes into detective mode. She cleans and sweeps. The whole time, she’s listening for the faint tinkling sound of the coin on stone or wood. Some proof of its presence. She has to find it. Her future could depend on whether or not she finds that lost coin.

(Again, the word for “loses” in verse 8 comes from the same family of “lost” as the sheep.)

And when the woman finds the coin, what does she do? She invites her friends and neighbors to rejoice with her. Celebrate, because that which was lost has been found. She’d still had the nine, but that lost one returning to her was worth the celebration.

In verse 10, Jesus again compares this celebration in the story with the joy in the presence of the angels of God. Look at that sentence again. It doesn’t say that the angels are rejoicing, but that joy is on display in the presence of the angels of God. Who else is there in the presence of the angels to celebrate? God, Yahweh himself, dances in celebration over one lost “sinner” who has come to repentance.

Before those “righteous” elite could object to the sight of God dancing for repentant “sinners,” Jesus continues to the final parable, often referred to as “The Parable of the Prodigal Son.” But I much prefer the title of “The Lost Son(s)” because it reveals the entirety of the application of this story about the Kingdom of God.

The rest of the chapter details this story, but we’ll summarize as best as we can while hitting the high points for application.

A man had two sons. One of them, the younger, went to his father and demanded that the father split his property to give the young son his inheritance. This is essentially, a boy saying to his dad that he wished the father were dead. It’s even more clear in the Greek, considering the fact that the word translated as “property” means, “life.”

“Father, give me the share of your life that I deserve, so that I can get out of here.”

And so, the father does as his son asks. He takes stock of his whole life’s work and divides it up. A double portion to the eldest, as was typical for the culture, and the other portion to the younger son.

With his third of his father’s life to spend, the young boy loses himself in a far off land. He squanders the money. Literally meaning “scattered,” it tells us that this boy made it rain before any music video ever taught us how.

And the young man chose to live a reckless life. No one who looked at this boy’s actions would ever consider him capable of coming back to holiness from this. The “sinners” in the crowd were like, “I’ve been there. He doesn’t know how badly that road ends.” Meanwhile, the “righteous” audience members say to themselves—or maybe out loud—“Yeah, Jesus. These are the very types of people we’re complaining about. It’s reckless to live with these types of people. They’ll bring you down too.”

In verse 13, Jesus gets to the inevitable descent toward despair. A famine hit the land. The good times quit rolling as the money ran out. Both kinds of rain quit falling. And the boy had to get a job…working as a day laborer…feeding pigs.

As someone who has actually lived on a pig farm for over a year—although I thankfully never had to work with them—I can tell you that pigs are not the animals you want to be around. Especially when a hot summer breeze carries their stench your way.

But even worse than that, a good little Jewish boy should have nothing to do with pigs. They’re considered unclean animals. To have to work among them, meant that this boy was so outside of the holiness of God that even thoughts of returning to ritual cleanliness had fled away.

And it was the boy’s growling stomach at the pig slop he fed them that brought him back to his senses. He might not be worthy of being a son of his father anymore, but at least his father’s hired hands lived better than this. So, he decided to return home. And rehearsed his apology.

Over and over again, on that long road home, the boy repeated the words he’d say. “Father, I’ve sinned against heaven and against you. I’m no longer worthy of being called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.” The repentance became a mantra for the boy. So easy to say that he could recite it without pause.

But Jesus’ words then shift to the father. Faithfully watching for the return of his son, the father’s vigil finally pays off. He’d recognize that distant figure anywhere. Compassion filled the father, the same compassion that is the feeling in the bowels we’ve seen in other parables. And that gut punch of love sent the father running. Not refined steps. Not a stately pace. But a run. This father wouldn’t wait the few seconds longer it’d take for the boy to get to him.

This reconciliation had to happen right now.

Falling into an embrace with his son, the father welcomed the boy home with a kiss on his cheeks. And he hardly paid attention to the rehearsed words pouring out of the son. I mean, the boy hardly got the first sentence out before the father called the servants to cloth him, put on the symbols of the family, and get some new sandals on the boy’s probably-bare feet. The father calls for the fattened calf to be butchered. They were going to have a neighborhood barbecue to celebrate. (It’s kinda fitting that this parable landed on this weekend, huh?)

Everyone was to join in rejoicing because this son of his had been as good as dead, but is now returned alive. He’d been lost—destroyed, killed, ruined—but was now found. This parallel of being dead and being lost reveals to us that the range of meaning for the word was intended in Jesus’ use of it. And since it’s the same word for “lost” throughout the parables, he’s been building to this point.

What had been lost was now found. It’s time to celebrate because the dead have been returned to life through the power of redemption.

But there was one person who was invited to rejoice who hadn’t been told yet. The older brother. He’d been out in fields working his butt off when his younger bro came home.

Thus, when the older brother drew near the house, he was surprised that a celebration met him. He called one of the servants to ask what this was all about. Part of me wonders if he thought that this celebration had something to do with his “righteousness” of working alongside his dad.

But the answer he got left him angry.

His brother had returned. And their father had accepted him. Just like that. It made no sense. Why? Why would his father do something so ridiculous? So unfitting of the actions that their father deserved. Therefore, the older brother stayed outside of the house with his arms folded in complaint. Grumbling.

Meanwhile, inside the house, the father awaited his eldest son’s return. And searching for him, realized that the boy was still outside. So, the father went out to him and invited him to rejoice at the return of his brother.

But the older brother began his practiced tirade. “How is this fair?! I’ve been with you this whole time, and I’ve gotten nothing. Not even a small gathering of close friends. But when this son of yours, who devoured your life with reprehensible living comes back, you kill the fattened calf and invite everyone to celebrate? It’s not fair!”

The father waits for the boy to breathe, and then reminds him that it’s fitting to celebrate the return of his brother. There should be no other response when one who was lost is found again. So, he invites the older brother to rejoice with him in this amazing thing.

And the parable ends there. It seems kinda rushed at the end, if I’m honest. There’s not even a parallel of how much rejoicing is happening in heaven over the “sinner” who has repented, like we saw in the other two parables. And we don’t get a report of whether or not the “righteous” hearing these parables ever understood Jesus’ invitation.

But that’s kinda the point. Those “righteous” Pharisees and scribes had been grumbling outside of the party. Despising the fact that someone was celebrating with “sinners.” And these parables were Jesus’ way of coming outside to them, and inviting them back inside to rejoice with him.

Instead of losing themselves to self-righteousness and ungodly thoughts of being better than those “sinners.”

Heaven wished to rejoice. God wanted to dance. “Sinners” were repenting and turning back to the ways of God. But these “righteous” people—self-righteous people—refused to accept that fact. In their pursuit of dictating who was and wasn’t “righteous” they’d become exactly what they’d set out to fight against.

They’d lost themselves in the process. Fell to the Dark Side as hate filled them, instead of the love of God. The God who searches and pursues and runs to embrace the lost who repent.

It’s that repentance which matters. We’re all lost without the work of Jesus. All actually sinners doomed to eternal damnation. Lost. Destroyed. Killed. Ruined. We all have lived our own versions of reckless lives. Some more reckless than others, yes. But none are truly righteous in and of ourselves.

It requires Jesus to bring us righteousness. His blood to cover our sins. His loving work on the cross to bring us the redemption we all so desperately need.

And because of that, whenever any sinner comes to repent, we should join God in the celebration. Rejoice with him. Dance in the presence of the angels alongside him.

The invitation is open. God calls us to rejoice instead of grumble and complain. He calls us to holiness, both from our reckless lives and our self-righteousness. Either direction leads to being lost. So, let’s repent, be found, and join him in celebration when more “sinners” come to repentance.

Come on inside, both sinner and self-righteous. It’s time to be found again.

And rejoice with me.