The Day I Realized I Was the Older Brother in the Prodigal Story

Is grace unfair?

Sweet Publishing

For too much of my life, I read the Prodigal Son story and saw myself in the younger brother.

Wild heart. Restless soul. I made my share of mistakes. Took some bad turns. Wandered far. Came back humbled, grateful. I thought that was the point of the story.

Until one day, I read it again — and it hit differently.

I wasn’t the younger brother anymore.

I was the older one.

Wasn’t Faithfulness Supposed to Feel Better Than This?

Jesus tells the story in Luke 15. The younger brother demands his inheritance early, leaves home, wastes everything, and crawls back broke and starving. The father sees him coming, runs to meet him, hugs him, and throws a party.

Meanwhile, the older brother is out in the field — working. Faithful. Consistent. Obedient. He hears the music and dancing. Finds out it’s for his little brother. And something inside him snaps.

He refuses to go in.

The father comes out to him, too. And the older brother lets it all out:

“Look, all these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends.” (Luke 15:29)

That was me.

I didn’t say it out loud. But in my heart? I knew.

When Did Grace Start to Feel Unfair?

I’d been keeping score without realizing it.

I stayed faithful. I kept showing up. I tried to do the right thing. And I assumed that meant… something.

Recognition. Reward. At least a little celebration.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, I watched people walk away from the church, come back, and get welcomed like heroes. I clapped on the outside. But inside, I was thinking:

Really? That’s it? Just throw them a party and move on?

I started to feel like grace was unfair.

And then I realized — that’s the whole point.

Can You Be Lost Without Ever Leaving?

Jesus told this story to the Pharisees, who were mad that he was hanging out with sinners. They thought they had earned God’s approval. They thought grace had limits.

So Jesus gave them a story about two lost sons.

One ran away. The other stayed bitter.

One left physically. The other left emotionally.

I had never really left — but I was definitely far from joy, from celebration, from the Father’s heart.

I was doing everything right.

And I was still missing the party.

What if I Already Had What I Was Looking For?

The father says something to the older son that becomes personal:

“My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.” (Luke 15:31)

I’d spent so long trying to earn something that was already mine.

I had access to the Father. I just hadn’t enjoyed it. I’d made my faith into a job description. A checklist.

And I let that quiet resentment fester.

Sarah Bessey had this to say, “The table of Christ is wide. It offends the rule-followers. It makes room for the mess-makers.”

Will I Walk Into the Feast?

Jesus leaves the story open-ended. We don’t know if the older brother goes inside.

It’s like he’s looking at me, asking: What about you?

Will you stay outside, clinging to your record? Or will you come inside, empty-handed?

Will you be angry at Grace? Or will you be part of it?That’s the question I keep coming back to.

I’ve been both sons. The runner and the resenter. The broken and the bitter.

What Role Are You Playing Right Now?

Ask yourself and think.

• Are you the younger brother — wondering if it’s safe to come home?

• Are you the older brother — standing outside, arms crossed, heart cold?

• Are you the father in someone else’s story — learning to open your arms when it’s hard?

  
  

Wherever you are, grace is still available. Not as a prize. But as a party, you don’t have to earn.

The only thing keeping us from joy might be our own pride.

Let’s not miss the feast because you’re keeping score.

© Gary L Ellis