March 31, 2019 “No Score” – Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
“No Score”
March 31, 2019 – Fourth Sunday in Lent

As I grew up, it seemed like someone was always keeping score. In first grade our teacher kept track on a bulletin board of how far each of us progressed in a primary reader. On the playground we counted up how many wraps one hit produced around the tether ball pole. In Scouts we recorded the number of miles we hiked every year. In high school we learned about the importance of grade point averages. And of course the SAT was a score that could determine your future.

There is some pushback on all that scorekeeping these days. Intangible factors other than achievement tests and grade averages now figure into college admissions. And recent scandals call the objectivity of that whole process into question. Yet all our technology seems to make scorekeeping more a part of life than ever. Consumer ratings determine which car you buy or which movie you watch. Job performance is calculated on a numerical scale to try and avoid any appearance of bias.

As I wrote on my blog, I was dismayed to discover the last time I went bowling a few years ago that automated lanes now keep score for you, posting the numbers up on a screen for everybody to see. It seems like everyone is keeping score. That may, you might feel, include God. He’s tracking sins and good deeds in some cosmic database. One day you and I will find out how we measure up. But not according to Jesus.

You probably know the story I just read from Luke 15. You may know it too well. It is one of the most wonderful stories ever told. It is told often. We read it to little children. We pray for it to be lived out when those children are in their teens and college years. I pray it often for my own youngest child. Everyone growing up in the church hears it over and over. Even without a church background, you may have heard of the prodigal son.

It’s a true story. Jesus made it true. His Cross and Resurrection were God’s way of doing what the father does in the story. When Jesus died and rose, it was God’s way of coming out to welcome His lost children home. The arms of Jesus spread out on the Cross are the arms of God Himself wide open to embrace every lost child who comes to Him.

Jesus told this story to teach us about God’s grace and acceptance rather than God’s scorekeeping. I can’t think of any better way to do it. So I will tell a story like His. It’s certainly not as good, and it’s really just a re-make of His, but I hope it will help you take a fresh look at what Jesus said.

There was a man who had two sons. He was a golf pro named Ben. Ben lived half his life on the course and he loved the game. And he did his best to instill his love of golf into his two sons. When they were five years old he bought them each a tiny set of custom clubs. He paid for another pro to give them lessons. Ben loved golf and he loved his sons. His greatest joy was watching them play.

Neither of Ben’s sons, let’s call them Arnie and Tiger, became professional golfers. Arnie went into law, and Tiger, well, Tiger never quite got through college. He just kind of drifted and drank too much. Arnie kept up with his game, but Tiger let it all go when he left home. That is, until his dad’s 75th birthday.

Ben had been retired from professional golf for awhile. He was having trouble with arthritis, so it had been a few years since he had swung a club. As his birthday approached, Arnie called up Tiger and reminded him of the special day approaching. He got Tiger to come around to his office and talk about what they could do for the old man that would really mean something. What present would truly make him happy?

Ben already had the best clubs money could buy. He had enough golf knickknacks, belt buckles and money clips to fill a barn. Tiger suggested they just take him on a glorious night on the town, buying the best booze they could find, but even he knew that was a bad idea. Arnie looked at Tiger and said, “Come on, this is our father. What really makes him happy?”

Reluctantly, Tiger said, “Dad was always smiling when he watched us play golf. But I don’t do that anymore. Maybe we could give him tickets to one of the big tournaments.” But Arnie’s eyes lit up. “That’s it,” he proclaimed, “we’ll take him out, play a round together, then have lunch and a party!” “No, no,” said Tiger, “that’s not what I meant…” But Arnie the attorney had found his closing argument. The case was clinched. After thirty years, they were going golfing with their dad again.

Tiger didn’t like the idea at all, but, as usual with his older brother, he couldn’t find any way around it. He sighed and nodded his head while Arnie picked up the phone to reserve a tee time and call some of Ben’s old buddies who were still alive. Tiger went home to dig around in a closet and see if he could find some clubs after so long.

Morning was splendid when they met at the country club course, the best in town. The sun was shining, but with a gentle cool breeze. The grass was brilliant green. Ben took to the outing right away. He was squeezed in between his sons in the golf cart with a huge smile on his face. He was raring to go and there was a little spring in his step as they got out at the first hole, a 3 par with only a small water hazard. He looked at his sons and said, “Give me the scorecard, I’ll take care of that and the two of you just have fun!” So they handed him the card and the little pencil, then rolled their bags down to the tee.

Arnie encouraged Tiger to tee-off first, with all the warm-up swings he wanted. He grinned as he watched his brother’s weak, unpracticed stroke. The grin broke a little when Tiger put the ball down, got set, and managed a good, strong straight drive for about 200 yards. Then Arnie took a couple picture-perfect warm-up swings, set up his ball and shot his drive past Tiger’s, right to the edge of the green.

They climbed in the cart and headed for the hole. Tiger had a short, easy pitch to the green. Dad pulled the flag and held it as Tiger sank a medium distance putt for a nice par score for that hole. Arnie’s putt was twice as long and it broke wrong, so he needed another stroke to also finish with a par. Ben scribbled on the scorecard and they all headed for the next hole. Tiger pulled out a beer to celebrate how well he started out.

That was about the last chance Tiger got to celebrate. He hadn’t played in a long time. He sliced the next drive right into the sand and couldn’t seem to find the right club to get it out. His strokes started mounting up. On the third hole, he overcorrected his drive and hooked the ball right into the pond. It wasn’t the last ball he would lose that day.

Meanwhile, brother Arnie got into his rhythm and played an excellent, consistent game. He always chose the right club. The one time he misjudged a drive and landed in the rough he was out with one stroke and still managed to finish it one over par. After each hole their father would mark the scorecard, and they would move on.

Tiger got more and more frustrated. He lost 7 or 8 balls—he quit counting. That first hole was the last time he even came close to par. He couldn’t hit anything right. He missed even easy chips and putts. To drown his frustration, about every other hole, he opened another beer. His game went downhill fast.

Arnie’s game got better and better. Pleased to be making his father proud, he played a personal best. He birdied the 10th hole and made it look easy. He was enjoying himself. He showed off every skill and trick his father had taught him. It all came together in this game. He was headed for a score in the high seventies.

The game went on, with Arnie playing brilliantly and Tiger getting worse and worse. Ben just kept smiling and watching his two sons and marking the scorecard.

Tiger heckled Arnie whenever he got up to drive. But the pressure just made him play better. Near the end, Tiger gave up. On the sixteenth hole, he drove a tremendous divot about 5 yards and missed the ball completely. When Arnie laughed, that was it. Tiger threw his club out in the lake, grabbed the last beer, and stomped off to wait for Arnie and dad to finish.

The rest of Arnie’s game was amazing. He aced the sixteenth hole, eagled the seventeenth and got another birdie on the last one. Trembling, he sank one last long beautiful putt. He looked up at his dad, just standing there smiling and writing on the scorecard. He went over and shook his dad’s hand and said, “Dad, that was the best game I ever shot in my life and the credit is all yours. You taught me everything I know and I just want you to know how proud I am to be your son.” Ben just smiled.

Arnie had lost track of his score. He knew it was good, probably the low seventies after a grand finish. So now he asked to see the scorecard. With an even bigger smile, Ben showed it to him.

Arnie looked, then looked again. He held the card out like it was a snake. “What’s this?” he yelled. There weren’t any scores on the card. The old man had doodled a smiley face in every square. Not one score for a single hole was recorded, not for Arnie and not for Tiger, just rows and rows of little round grinning faces. There was no record of Nick’s disastrous round and no record of the best game of Arnie’s life.

Arnie stood there as anger came over him. He was so furious he was shaking. “I can’t believe it! I played this for you. Of all the…” He stopped because he suddenly started to wonder if the old man had lost it, if dementia was setting in. He didn’t say anymore, but it was his turn to stalk away, shaking his head, slamming his club back in the bag.

Ben turned and walked over to where his other son sat under a tree. Tiger saw him coming and stood up. “Dad,” he said, “I’m really sorry. You know I never could play this game like Arnie. I tried, but I can’t do it, not even for you. I’m sorry I ruined your birthday. I feel so unworthy of all you gave me, all you taught me. Please forgive me.”

Ben’s smile got bigger than it had all day. He showed Tiger the scorecard that had infuriated Arnie. Tiger bent and looked. Stunned, he took the card and checked it again. Then he looked up at his dad’s face. There was no dementia in those eyes, no senile old man’s silliness. What Tiger saw was love. Then Ben threw his arms around Tiger. They started laughing. They just bent double there under the tree and laughed until the tears came. Then they walked back to the clubhouse to have lunch together while Ben’s old golf cronies gathered to toast their friend and share some birthday cake.

Arnie saw them laughing. He realized his father was in his right mind after all, but he didn’t know what was going on. Arnie figured they were laughing at him somehow. But he didn’t get the joke. He felt rejected. He didn’t go in for lunch or birthday cake. Instead, he grabbed his bag of clubs, bought a bucket of balls and went out to practice some drives. Maybe if he just worked at it a little harder, his father would finally be impressed, would recognize his skill for what it was. That’s what Arnie was thinking as he just kept swinging away, aiming at a better score another day.

God is not keeping score. God our Father does not love us for what we do, no matter how good. He just loves us. The death and resurrection of Jesus Christ show us that. God’s gift to us of His own Son is like that empty scorecard. It’s a demonstration that God already loves us, before we do or don’t do anything at all. He loved us enough to give up Himself for us. All we must do is accept that love.

Jesus’ story is better than mine. In His parable, the father went out to the older brother too. He loved him just as much. He came out with open arms to remind the older brother that all he the father possessed already belonged to his son. So God our Father sends the Holy Spirit of Jesus out to those of us who are tempted to feel like older brothers, who are tempted to keep score and to resent those who fall short. He sends Him out to say, “I died and rose for you also. All my agony was for you. All my joy is also for you. You are mine. You are dearly loved.” Jesus says that to every one of us today.

You are loved. Jesus died and rose for you. You are accepted. God the Father accepts you by the Cross and by the empty tomb of His Son. He accepts you whether your game is pretty awful or pretty good. That acceptance and those open arms are always there. Believe that and you will enjoy the game more. If you are playing poorly now, then you will find the grace to laugh at yourself and play better tomorrow. If you are already playing well, then you will find the grace to laugh at yourself and be kinder to those who are not doing so well. God is our Father and friend, not our score keeper. He loves us.

As you look at the Cross, imagine Jesus the Savior stretched out upon it. See in Him the open arms of God. Jesus showed us how much we are loved, enough for Him to die for that love. In Christ, God Himself suffered to demonstrate the depth of His love. All He wants is for you and I to see His love and turn to Him, to be changed by His love. Let the love of God in Christ Jesus take away our sin. Let Him enfold us in His bleeding arms and make us His children.

May you and I enter into the arms and love of God today. May we be His children.

Amen.