The Rev. Rob Merola

Have you ever felt stuck in life?

Have you ever been in a situation that felt unbearable but you couldn’t see you way out of it? 

Being stuck takes many forms.  It might, for instance, be the couple living parallel lives because that’s easier than confronting the painful issues intimacy requires.

Or it might be the person who can’t leave a job he dreads because of how well it pays.

Or maybe it is the refusal to try something new or do something different or reach for something she really wants because she feels inadequate and is afraid of failing. 

Or it could be the alcoholic, foodaholic, rageoholic, shopoholic or pornaholic who hates what his addiction is doing to himself and his family, but still is unwilling or unable to do without.

Or maybe it’s being in a destructive relationship that she can’t let go because she is afraid she’d be alone if she did.

Or perhaps it’s a painful problem that repeats itself over and over again because he isn’t comfortable with conflict and the confrontation needed to resolve it

Or it could be the person who feels God calling her to believe for the very first time, or the person who has faith already but senses God calling him to go deeper, but they do not respond because others might disapprove or think they’ve become fanatics.

I’ve seen all these things and more time and time again over the years.  And what I know is that being stuck is such a painful place to be, in no small part because there have been times when I’ve been stuck myself.  I expect you have too.  Some of you are feeling stuck now.

In this morning’s Gospel, we meet someone who is also stuck.  He is the older brother in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, and he is in a very dark place.  He is stuck deep within the pit of resentment.

Frankly, he has good reason to be. He has stayed home and worked hard from morning until night, plowing those cotton-pickin' fields, milking those filthy cows, shoveling that stinkin’ stuff out of the barn.  And what has his brother been doing?  He has been living the good life, blowing big bucks on wild parties and wilder women.  Here’s the older brother killing himself, and what does he get out of it?

Nothing!

And it gets worse.  He doesn’t even get invited to his younger brother’s homecoming party.  At the end of another long, hard day of work, he comes in from the fields.  Hearing music, laughter, and people having a good time, he asks a slave “What's going on?"

"Your brother has come home. They're celebrating!" the slave replies.

That’s how he finds out about the party.   How would that make you feel? 

The older brother is furious.   He refuses to go in.  And his resentment keeps him stuck outside the party.   No matter how much fun everyone else is having, he will not be a part of it. 

Now that’s understandable, isn’t it?  Wouldn’t you be resentful too?  I know I would. 

Resentment is an interesting thing because it is something only “good” people struggle with.  If the younger brother came home, was sent out to work in the fields, and his father threw a party for the older brother without inviting him, how do you think the younger brother would feel?  He’d probably be thinking, “I’m getting what I deserve.   I’m just glad my dad took me in.  I don’t belong at that party.”

It’s only because the older brother has been good and done what he was supposed to do that he feels entitled to his resentment when he doesn’t get what he expected for his labors.  “It’s just not fair,” he says, and he is right.  But as long has he holds on to that resentment—as right as he may be about life being unfair—the older brother is stuck outside the party. 

I’m guessing that when it comes right down to it, we’re all pretty good people.  We’re good spouses and parents, good friends and neighbors, good Christians and good workers.  And precisely because we are good—we’ve done what were told we ought to do—we expect certain things in return.  Great marriages.  Perfect families.  Lifelong best friends.  A meaningful and satisfying career that pays enough to meet the bills.   A God who is on our side, does what we want, and conforms to our expectations.  

But here’s the simple truth.  Life isn’t fair.   It doesn’t always, or even often, turn out as we think it should.  Marriages are hard.  No family is perfect, and none of us are ever loved as we want to be loved within them.  We all lose those we love in many different ways, and sometimes we never get over the loss.   Sometimes even the best jobs are nothing but hard work accomplished through sheer grit and grim determination.  God’s ways are not our ways, and sometimes it is God we resent most of all.

And so we have a choice.  We can either stay stuck in our resentment of that fact, or do something about it.

Quite frankly, sometimes it just feels better to stay stuck in our resentments. Precisely because we are right that life isn’t fair, that we haven’t been loved or appreciated or recognized or respected like we should be, it also feels so right to wallow in resentment.  Certainly it feels better than risking the chance of being unloved our unappreciated once again.

On Monday of this past week, Linda and I decided to take a day off and go into to DC to see a display of nature photos at the Smithsonian.  Originally we planned to take the metro in, but  ended up driving into the city instead.  I hadn’t planned on being stuck in traffic, not knowing which lane to be in, where to turn, or where to park.  I quickly became resentful of finding myself in this situation. “This is why I hate cities!” I exclaimed in anger.

Now time out for just a moment.  Over the years I’ve talked with numbers of wives who have suffered through life with angry husbands (and husbands who have suffered with angry wives, but that’s another sermon).  And at the end of every one of those conversations, I think, “I never want that to be me.   I never want to put my wife through that.”

But then something happens, like driving into the city.  I find myself struggling not to let my resentment ruin what I so wanted to be a special day together, a gift to my wife who works so hard and complains so little.  But it just felt so good to be resentful rather than doing the hard work of reigning myself in, calming myself down, and accepting responsibility for my moods.  It was so tempting to give into it, and yes, I think I may well have said a bad word or two.

And so there was this moment, this moment where this trip didn’t turn out like I thought.  I felt entitled to my anger, like it somehow actually fit the situation, and I wanted to hold onto it and nurse it.  There was this moment where I had to choose; would I stay stuck in my resentment or let it go?

I barked at my wife, “I can’t believe you got us into this mess!”, made an illegal U-turn,  and drove home.  No.   I prayed, cast myself on the grace of God, and with God’s help I let it go, friends.  And you know what?  Letting it go felt good.  Pretty darn good, in fact.  Better than the resentment ever did.   It doesn’t always go this way, mind you, but thank God this day it did.

And then sometimes it is easier for good people to be resentful of what is wrong in life rather than working hard to make an unfair world better.  It’s easier to complain about our marriage, kids, church, and job, rather doing what we can to fix the problems we are having with them.   It is far easier to blame others for what is wrong in life rather than take responsibility for own limits, flaws, and shortcomings.

Resentment then becomes one more way of avoiding our problems.   Whereas pain is meant to be a gift that lets us know where we are hurting so we can do something about it, resentment becomes one more way of refusing to listen. 

As we have seen throughout our sermons this Lent, it is always easier to use such things as food, alcohol, websites or TV, to distract us from our problems.  It is always easier to see problems as somebody else’s fault other than our own, or to dream about their magical disappearance someday.

But we have also seen how avoiding our problems is one of the greatest causes of misery in the world.   We have seen how we must be willing to face our problems and suffer the pain of solving them if we are ever going to be the mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically healthy human beings that God created us to be, and that we long to be ourselves.  We must work through our hurts and learn from if we are ever going to be happy, healthy, and whole.

Quite simply, friends, that means letting go of our resentments, as hard as that may be.  But how?

First, recognize and accept that life is not fair.  It is not fair for anybody.  Believe me when I tell you that even the people who seem like they have it all don’t.   We all suffer, each and everyone.   When we can accept that for the truth that is rather than wishing it was different, we’ve made a good start.

Second, see in our resentments opportunities to grow in God’s love and service.   God of all people had reasons to be resentful –look at what we did to the perfect world he made.   He went so far as to send his only son Jesus to help us sort out the mess we made, and we went so far as to kill him.  But God never gave up on us, and never stopped working to make our world the place he always dreamed it would be.    He is always looking for people who will not give up hope, who will stay positive, and will join him in the work of making the world that is into the world that ought to be.

And finally, pray.   Because resentment is the sin of good people, it can be so deeply rooted in our lives that we cannot remove it on our own.   Ask God to help you with this.  He will.   

Did you notice that we aren’t told how the Parable of the Prodigal Son ends?  Jesus never does tell us whether or not the older brother goes in and joins the party.    The reason for that is pretty clear, isn’t it?

You are the older brother. So am I.

How does the story end?

Well, that’s up to us, isn’t it?

Amen.