“Are You a Christian?” (Luke 15:1-2, 11-32)

Dear Theophilus
When did you hear the gospel for the first time? Who shared it with you?

Luke writes his Gospel to someone named Theophilus, a name that means “lover of God.” Theophilus may have been a real person – a Roman official, a new believer or a sincere seeker. Or he may represent anyone who longs to know God. At the very beginning of his Gospel, Luke tells us his purpose. He writes so that people may know the truth and so they may trust that God’s salvation in Jesus is real and reliable. Luke wants us to see that Jesus came for all people – the religious and the non-religious, the powerful and the weak, the insider and the outsider. That’s why Luke includes stories found no other Gospels: the Good Samaritan, Zacchaeus, and the thief on the cross, and the Prodigal Son. Luke’s message is simple and clear: no one is beyond God’s redemption, and new life is possible now in Jesus.

Younger Son
Today’s story begins like this: There was a man who had two sons. The younger son said to the father, “Give me my share of your estate now before you die.” In other words, “Father, I want your stuff, but not you. I wish you were dead.” Heartbroken, yet loving, the father divided the property – two-thirds to the older son, one-third to the younger. A few days later, the younger son packed his bags and left for a far county. He wanted to be his boss. He longed for freedom – to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. And he wasted everything he had.

Then a famine came. He began to starve. He hired himself out and ended up feeding the pigs. He was so hungry that he longed to eat the pods in the pig slop, but no one gave him anything. Then we come to the turning point of the story: “He came to his senses” (v. 17). Finally, he realized, “I am lost. I cannot save myself. I need to go home.” That is grace. That is repentance. So he turned and went home. While he was still a long way off, his father saw him. Filled with compassion, the father ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him, even before the son said anything.

Once we learn how to die, we learn how to live. The other day, while visiting Linda in the ICU, she shared something profound with me. She said she had heard these two questions before, but this was the first time someone asked her directly:

1. If you could not breathe on your own, would you want to be placed on a breathing machine?
2. If your heart were to stop, would you want to be resuscitated, or would you prefer a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate)?”

She said to herself, “Am I dying?” Suddenly, death felt real and near. For a day, breathing itself was hard work. And she realized how much she had taken for granted – breathing, life. When we learn how to face death, we learn how to live well. When we realize how lost we are, we begin the journey home.

Older Son
But there is another son. The older son never left home, and yet he also needed to return – not from a far country, but from self-righteousness and judgment. He too was lost. He too was a prodigal son. He was hardworking, obedient, respectable. He followed the rules. But he was joyless. And when his younger brother returned and the father threw a celebration, the older son was not happy. He was furious. He was lost, not in spite of his goodness, but because of it.

So the father went out to him and pleaded, “Son, we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive. He was lost and is found.” The parable ends as a cliffhanger. We never learn whether the older son enters the party. Jesus leaves the story open—because the invitation still stands. Jesus is still reaching out to rebellious sinners and to religious, self-righteous ones.

One day, D. L. Moody stopped a gentleman on the street and asked him a simple question: “Are you a Christian?” The man was deeply offended. He thought to himself, “I am a decent man. I am better than most. How dare he ask me such a question?” Angry, he walked away. Later, the man discovered that Moody worked for a man he knew. So he complained, saying, “Your worker, Moody, was rude. He is doing more harm than good. He has zeal without knowledge.” When Moody’s boss shared this with him, Moody was crushed. He asked himself, “Am I really doing more harm than good?” He became discouraged. He wrestled with God in prayer. About a week later, there was loud knocking at Moody’s door late at night. When Moody opened the door, the same gentleman stood there. The man said, “Since you spoke to me last week, I have not been able to sleep. Your question will not leave me. Please tell me what must I do to be saved?” God used Moody’s simple, honest question to awaken the heart of an older son.

My Gospel
Luke proclaims the gospel to both sons – and to us:

We are all lost in one way or another, whether we are rebellious or self-righteous. God saw us and did not turn away. Out of great love, God came near to us in Jesus. Jesus lived among us. He showed mercy to the forgotten, healed the broken, welcomed sinners. He suffered, died on the cross, and carried our sin and pain with him. But death did not have the final word—Jesus rose again. Because of him, forgiveness is real, hope is alive, and new life is possible. This good news is for everyone.

The Apostle Paul believed this good news and said, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—and I am the worst of them all.” (1 Timothy 1:15) “But by the grace of God I am what I am.” (1 Corinthians 15:10) I cannot forget the day this gospel became real for me. Before, I was constantly wandering. But after believing, I felt whole – at home, with purpose. Joy flooded in and stayed.

Prodigal Father
As I close, let me tell you a true story about a Russian czar. A close friend of the czar died and asked him to raise his son as his own. The czar agreed. He loved the boy and gave him every opportunity. But as the young man grew older, he developed a secret gambling addiction. He began stealing money to cover his debts. When he realized he was ruined and exposed, he planned to end his life. That night, the czar—traveling in disguise—came upon the young man’s tent. He saw everything. He knew the full truth. But instead of punishment, the czar wrote a note, promising to pay the entire debt himself. When the young man woke up, he realized two things:

1. The czar knew all about his sin.
2. And the czar still loved him enough to cover the cost.

That is the love of the prodigal father. God knows us fully, and he still runs toward us with wide open arms.

So let me ask the question again: Are you a Christian? A Christian is someone who receives the prodigal Father’s love in Jesus, and then becomes like the Father: reaching out, forgiving, rejoicing. May we all come home running. And may we invite others into the Father’s celebration.