A Little Pot · Part Two

Last week we sat at Esau’s table. This week Jesus tells a story that starts in almost the same place.

Listen to the first words out of each son. Esau: “Feed me.” The prodigal: “Give me.” Neither one wanted to wait. Both wanted what was coming to them, and they wanted it today.

And both had to trade something to get it. Esau traded his birthright for a bowl. The prodigal cashed out his inheritance while his father was still alive, which in that culture was close to saying, “I wish you were dead.”

Here’s the uncomfortable part. These two aren’t villains. They’re us. Most of us have said “feed me” or “give me” to God at some point and meant now.

This week isn’t about which son you are. It’s about which road you take after the pot.

Esau’s bowl was empty in about five minutes. The prodigal’s money lasted longer, but not much. “When he had spent all.”

That’s the thing about a pot. It never refills. Whatever you traded the birthright for, you will finish it, and then you’ll be hungry again.

Look where both sons end up: the field. Esau came in from the field faint. The prodigal got sent into the fields to feed pigs. For a Jewish young man that’s as low as it gets.

And then the saddest line in the chapter: “no man gave unto him.” The friends who helped him spend it were gone. The far country is generous when you’re buying. It doesn’t give anything back.

Maybe you’re in a field right now. Hungry for husks. If so, keep reading.

Tomorrow’s verse is for you.

Yesterday the two sons were in the same place: empty, in the field. Today the stories split.

Esau ate, drank, “rose up, and went his way.” The prodigal “came to himself” and said “I will arise and go to my father.”

Same verb. Rose up. Arise. Opposite direction. One got up and walked away from what he lost. The other got up and walked back toward the one he hurt.

“He came to himself” means he’d been out of his mind. Sin is a kind of insanity.

You trade a birthright for soup and call it a good deal.

And notice what woke him up. He remembered his father’s house. Even the servants there ate better than he did. Remembering home is the first step home.

Both sons cried out to a father. Listen to what each one said.

Esau: “Bless me.” He wanted the stuff back. Scripture never shows him grieving that he despised the birthright. Only that he lost the blessing.

The prodigal: “I have sinned.” He didn’t ask for his money back. He didn’t even ask to be a son. He just wanted to be home.

That’s the dividing line between these two men. Esau was sorry about the result.

The prodigal was sorry about the choice.

It’s easy to cry over what sin cost you. It’s harder to cry over who it hurt. One kind of tears asks God for the blessing. The other kind comes for the Father.

The son had a speech ready. He never got to finish it.

“When he was yet a great way off, his father saw him.” That means the father had been looking. Every day. Watching the road.

And then he ran. Old men in that culture didn’t run. You’d have to hike up your robe and make a scene. He didn’t care.

Now look at the second verse. Twenty years after the stolen blessing, Jacob comes home afraid Esau will kill him. And Esau ran. Fell on his neck. Kissed him.

Almost word for word what the father does in Luke 15.

The man who lost the blessing ended up showing grace. Even Esau’s story didn’t end at the bowl. Neither does yours.

The son asked to be a hired servant. The father wouldn’t even let him finish.

Bring the best robe. Cover him. Put a ring on his hand. Give him authority again.

Shoes on his feet. Servants went barefoot. Sons wore shoes.

Then the meal. Last week the whole story turned on a bowl of stew. Esau gave away everything for one plate. Here the father kills the fatted calf and throws a party.

Whatever pot you traded for, it’s nothing next to the table the Father sets when you come home.

And look at His words: “was dead, and is alive again.” He doesn’t say “he messed up.” He says “he’s alive.” That’s how the Father sees you walking back.

The story doesn’t end with the feast. The elder son comes in from the field, just like Esau did. And he won’t go in.

He never left home. He never wasted a dime. But he’s angry, and he stands outside the party. That’s Esau’s other pot: offense. After he lost the blessing, Esau hated his brother (Genesis 27:41).

You can lose the joy of the birthright without ever leaving the house. Just let bitterness keep you on the porch.

And the father came out again. He ran to one son and walked out to the other.

“Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine.”

The birthright was never the problem. It was his the whole time. He just wouldn’t come in and enjoy it.