When Martin Luther died, tradition records that his final words were “We are beggars, this is true.”

By that he didn’t mean we need to beg and grovel for God’s mercy and forgiveness. But rather, at the end of his lifetime of shining the spotlight on the riches of God’s amazing grace, he recognized that, like beggars with empty hands outstretched, all we can truly do is receive what God freely gives us.  God’s heart does not need to be inclined toward us by our begging or asking or pleading. Instead, God’s heart is so overflowing in love for us that before we can even stretch out our needy and empty hands, God is there with hands outstretched, reaching toward us first.

“We are beggars, this is true.”

This morning, I’d like to propose a corollary to Luther’s dying words: “We are wanderers, this is true.”

From the time we are toddlers, we just love to take off in our own direction. Just watch a little one who has recently gained use of their little legs and achieved the ability to walk. Proud parents become constantly burdened by the ever-wandering one who, when opportunity knocks, high tails off in whatever direction possible — away from the watchful eye of momma or poppa.

Lutherans never really picked up on brother Martin’s dying words about being beggars in our hymns, but we sure did get the wandering thing down.

I don’t know how many of you sang this one in Sunday School: but if you did, sing with me: “O be careful little feet where you go, O be careful little feet where you go. For the Father up above is looking down in love, so be careful little feet where you go.”

That was always a fun one, because we also got to tell our little tongues to be careful what they said, our little hands to be careful what they did, and then as we got a little older and mischievous, we started adding a few verses that told other body parts to be careful what they did as well. But the best line was always “For the Father up above is looking down in love. ” Not with lightning bolts. Not poised with a paddle. Not armed with a stern and ready punishment. But looking at us-and-our-wandering-feet in love.

We sing of wandering in hymn 807 if you want to take a look. We won’t sing it this moment, but check out stanza 3 of Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, hymn 807.

Oh, to grace how great a debtor daily I’m constrained to be; let that grace now like a fetter bind my wand’ring heart to thee. Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it; prone to leave the God I love.  Here’s my heart, oh take and seal it; seal it for thy courts above.  Robert Robinson (1735-1790)

We are wanderers, this is true.

A few years ago, we sang #732 a bit more often than we do now, but it also tells it like it is. The song Borning Cry puts God’s words in our mouths, reminding us that God is there and will be there throughout every season in our life — even when we wander. Again, we won’t sing it this moment but check out the first stanza:

I was there to hear your borning cry, I’ll be there when you are old.  I rejoiced the day you were baptized to see your life unfold. I was there when you were but a child, with a faith to suit you well;    in a blaze of light you wandered off to find where demons dwell…
© 1985 John Ylvisaker (b.1937)

The closer I get to 50, the more I resonate with that third stanza about the middle ages of your life, but that’s another sermon…

Finally, wandering sheep that we are, we often turn to images of Jesus as our good shepherd, and even enshrine those images in stained glass to remind us that Jesus will leave the flock of 99 well-behaved sheep to go and bring back the wandering little critter who thought it had a better idea. And so we sing, in hymn 502,of this shepherd of wandering sheep. We won’t sing this one either, but check out stanza 3 of #502, The King of Love My Shepherd Is:

Perverse and foolish oft I strayed,     but yet in love he sought me,
and on his shoulder gently laid,     and home, rejoicing, brought me.
Henry Baker (1821-1877)

We are wanderers, this is true.  “Perverse and foolish oft we stray……but yet……but yet…….but yet in love HE sought ME.”

This is the truth of this morning’s tender gospel parable: God is an equal opportunity lover at all times and to all God’s beloved and wandering children.  It has been called the parable of the prodigal son, but it could be argued that a better title would be the parable of the prodigal father. The New Oxford Dictionary defines the adjective prodigal as “spending money or resources freely and recklessly, wastefully extravagant”, and as “having or giving something on a lavish scale”. As reckless and wasteful as the wandering son was, the lavish scale of the father’s compassion and love is beyond imagination.  Not only does he take the wandering son back — the son for whom the father sold off his share of the property, the son who publicly disowned his father, the son who had brought such disgrace upon himself — not only does this prodigal father take the son back, but seeing the son coming home on the distant horizon, “while he was still far off” as St. Luke writes, “his father saw him and was filled with compassion.” And not waiting for the son to reach him, the father runs — doesn’t walk — and puts his arms around him and kissed him.

It is all embrace. As the artwork on the cover of this morning’s bulletin portrays, the wandering one has returned to the enveloping arms of the father, whose reckless and wastefully extravagant love seeks out both of his sons — not just the wandering one who comes home, but also the son who in wandering off himself into self-righteous pity could found no joy in his own obedience nor in his brother’s return nor in his father’s grace.

We are wanderers, this is true.

But with the best robe, with finest ring, with softest sandals, and with fatted calf, God waits with eager longing for our wandering feet to return. No more fear. No more shame. Only a father with a penchant for party-planning whose hands are swift to welcome and whose arms to embrace. Only lavishly reckless, abundantly wasteful, extravagantly prodigal grace for the wandering likes of us.

The table is set. Welcome home.