Mar 30, We Can Only Control Ourselves. Change Must Happen Inside.

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March 30, 2025

Fourth Sunday in Lent

Joshua 5:9-12

Psalm 32

2 Corinthians 5:16-21

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

(The context of this sermon was 100% written

in Canada by a human)

Our brains are built to make comparisons. It is how we learn language at an early age: What’s the difference between an orange and an apple? It is how we learn to function in our social environment: How is my house different from my neighbors? How is this situation different from the last one? Based on this, where should I go, how should I respond, which one do I really want – the apple or the orange?

But our brains also have a bad habit, one we know all too well. Psychologists call it the social comparison, and it is perhaps the main reason we find ourselves unhappy. We compare ourselves to others and reach judgments. Sometimes, we come out on top – smarter, better-looking, more successful. And sometimes – perhaps more often – we lose: the subject of our comparison is smarter, more attractive, wealthier. We choose whether to look up or down in our comparisons, and a lot of that depends on context. We use those comparisons to decide who gets loved most in our families, who merits a win at work, where we stand in the line of life.

Social media are designed to capitalize on our propensity for comparison, our instinct as social creatures to compare how we measure up to those around us. In this case, we are fooled into judging, as the saying goes, the insides of our houses to the outsides of everyone else’s. So we look at our messy lives, and compare them to the carefully curated front lawn, the all-smiles vacation, and if we are not careful, these flawed comparisons can make us miserable, can make us blind to what we have ourselves, and can be demotivating.

Consider how social media would have factored into our gospel this morning – the famous story of the prodigal son. The wayward son who comes home is instantly forgiven and gets the royal treatment from the father. The pain and anger of the dutiful son would only have been heightened by the fact that he would likely have been following his brother’s social platforms and seen all the fun he was having. Partying and frolicking with their father’s money, while he toiled away and did his duty. How that would have irked him even more. How it irks us when we find ourselves in that situation.

The lesson of the prodigal son is a hard one for us to accept. It goes to the heart of what is fair. Is it fair, that one son should have to stay home and work, while the other gets to go off and live the grand, irresponsible life? It’s not fair. How many times have we said that? When, as kids, our siblings got excused from the dishes when we had to do them? As adults, we are more likely to mutter it to ourselves – when, say, one sibling gets a helping hand from parents because they are down on their luck, while you, working hard, receive no gift. I see people trying to balance that family ledger all the time, and the conflict that flows from it. It is impossible. What’s fair is always relative. But it is not the same as equal.

That’s the lesson for us today. God is above fairness: but God is very big on equal. The prodigal son is meant to show us that God does not make comparisons. We are neither apples nor oranges. There is no line-up at the pearly gates. We arrive as individuals and we are judged that way. The forgiveness that the gospel describes and the grace that Jesus teaches mean nothing if God doles them out like treats for good behaviour; it must be equally available for all of us. Whether we are behaving like the wayward child, or the dutiful one – and be honest: are any of us always one and not the other? We are meant to understand that we are equal before God, that our relationship to God is our own, and is the only way to live a gospel-led life. God does not compare us to anyone, and we should not do it to ourselves.

But also – and this is important - God is saying: Butt out. Mind your own business, because your business is complicated enough. If the returning son is guilty of sloth, the dutiful son is guilty of pride. Both have lost their way.

We get this lesson in Lent, at a time when we are to be reflecting on our lesser qualities, on improving our relationship with God, and with those around us, because there is a tendency to use that time to make comparisons. When we say things like, “Sure I am not perfect, but look at that other guy; he’s a real mess.” Or, “Why bother? I will never compare to this other person; she’s got it together. “

But, as the gospel shows us, that is looking at things all the wrong way. This kind of self-talk gets in the way of making real change. When we are looking outward, there is a greater chance of feeling ourselves fall short. But change must happen inside, by rooting around, tossing what should go, treasuring what should stay. We cannot truly learn about ourselves, and truly change, if we do not first know who we truly are.

The lesson here is that we are not meant to feel better or worse when we consider the lives of others; we are meant to learn from one another and teach one another. We can hold one another accountable with guidance and support and not judgement or envy. This is the positive comparison that Jesus is trying to illustrate for us. What can we learn from that person we so admire? What can we offer the person who is struggling more than we are? How can we, like God, bring balance to life? How can we step out of the line – because who created that anyway? – and bring others with us?

It is not easy. There are plenty of days we feel like the angry son. But if we are happy managing the farm, why does it matter what anyone else does? If we are not happy, what might we do to change it? What can we control? Only ourselves.

What might that angry brother have done differently? He might have recognized that it was no skin off his nose that his brother had returned – indeed, it was a possibility for reconciliation, a chance for more help with the family business, an excuse for a party. Life, as we know, is a lot about how you look at it.

The gospel narrative is not always fair. Some people get more time with Jesus than others; some people, whose need is greater, get more help. But the goal of the gospel is to bring balance to the world. We cannot be a source for that balance if we are busy judging others. There is only one person we should be comparing ourselves to. And he is slowly, knowingly and generously, making his way to Jerusalem on our behalf. Amen.