The Greatest Story Ever Told

(Luke 15:11–32)

Preached at True Light Church in Jamestown, Tennessee, on June 28, 2026

Years ago, I preached a series of messages from Luke 15 that I called Lost and Found. I preached about the lost sheep and the lost silver, and then I spent three messages on the final story: The Lost Son, The Loving Father, and The Legalistic Brother.

For several years, I have wanted to bring those three messages together into one sermon. During the week before I was scheduled to preach at True Light Church, the Lord drew my heart back to this familiar passage. I began looking through those older messages, thinking again about the younger son in the far country, the father watching the road, and the elder brother standing angrily outside the feast. What began as another look at an old series became a single message entitled, “The Greatest Story Ever Told.”

Then something happened that made the service even more memorable.

When I preached at True Light Church back in May, I preached from Exodus 2 about being willing to place our basket into the hands of God. I had no idea that another preacher had preached a Mother’s Day message from that same passage the Sunday before.

Then, the day after I preached this message from Luke 15, I was scrolling through Facebook and discovered that the guest preacher the previous Sunday had also preached from Luke 15.

Twice in a row, during two different visits, I followed another preacher into the same passage of Scripture without knowing anything about it beforehand!

The True Light Church Facebook page said it better than I could:

“Luke 15 was the text for the second Sunday in a row from two different preachers. When that happens, we better pay attention!”

Amen. I have seen preachers preach from the same passage on consecutive Sundays before, but I do not believe I have ever seen it happen like this twice in a row.

There is certainly something in Luke 15 to which we ought to pay attention.

The parable of the prodigal son is far more than a sentimental story about a wayward boy finally coming home. It reveals the rebellion of the human heart, the ruin produced by sin, the wonder of genuine repentance, and the astonishing mercy of God toward sinners.

The younger son wanted his father’s possessions, but he did not want his father. He wanted the inheritance without the relationship and freedom without restraint. He traveled into the far country believing distance from his father would bring liberty, only to discover that distance from the father eventually became famine, bondage, loneliness, and shame.

But the story did not end in the hog pen.

The Bible says, “When he came to himself,” he remembered his father’s house. He arose, turned his back on the far country, and started home. That is repentance. Repentance does not merely feel sorry about the consequences of sin. Repentance gets up, turns around, and comes honestly and empty-handed to God.

And while that son was still a great way off, his father saw him and ran to meet him.

The father did not wait coldly at the doorway. He ran through the village, bore the shame, embraced his filthy son, covered his rags with the best robe, restored him to the family, and brought him into the feast.

That is the heart of the gospel.

At Calvary, Jesus Christ bore our sin, our reproach, and our shame so that guilty sinners could be forgiven, clothed in His righteousness, reconciled to God, and received as sons and daughters.

But the story also contains another lost son.

The elder brother never traveled into the far country, but he was still far from his father’s heart. He remained near the house, worked in the field, and outwardly obeyed the rules, yet he could not rejoice when mercy was shown to his brother.

One son was lost in open rebellion. The other was lost in self-righteousness. One stood in a hog pen. The other stood outside the feast. But the same father went out to meet them both.

That is the burden of this message. Whether we have wandered into the far country of visible sin or remained near the church while trusting in our own goodness, we all need the mercy of God. None of us enters the Father’s house because we deserve a place at the table. We enter only because Jesus Christ has made a way.

I hope you will take time to listen to this message. More importantly, I pray that you will hear the Father’s invitation within it.

Leave the far country. Leave the cold field of religious pride. The lost can be found. The dead can live. The Father’s house is open.

Come home.