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Timothy Keller’s basic claim in The Prodigal God is that the “Parable of the Prodigal Son” is a misnomer; the story should instead be known as the parable of the “Two Lost Sons” (xvii), as it shows that religious moralism and open rebellion can create parallel forms of estrangement from God. In tracing each son’s story, Keller argues that the son who broke every rule and the son who kept them with precision each needs grace since each son stands far from the father’s heart.
Conventional interpretations of the story have tended to focus on the younger son, who makes his motives plain when he demands his inheritance, treats his father as though he has already died, and leaves to chase a future free of oversight. He wants control of his life and property, and his rebelliousness and disrespect result in a very literal form of alienation, as he ends up penniless and alone in a foreign land. Moreover, his actions while gone are obviously immoral by the standards of the day; according to the elder brother, the younger sibling dissipates much of his inheritance on sex workers. This constitutes further disrespect to his father even without the allegorical framework that equates the father to God.
The problem, Keller suggests, is that the younger brother’s lostness is more visible; the elder brother’s condition appears through subtler choices that are easy to overlook, particularly for individuals who are similarly religiously minded. However, to the extent that the parable has a target audience, Keller suggests that it is precisely these kinds of people. The elder son wants the same control, yet he chooses obedience as his strategy. He stays home and treats his careful record as leverage. When he objects to his father’s compassion, he says, “All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders” (6), framing every task as a transaction that should have brought a reward and thus revealing his lack of real love for his father. Keller thus writes that “The hearts of the two brothers were the same. Both sons resented their father’s authority” (42). Each son uses the father for personal gain, so each drifts away from him.
The closing scene underscores what Keller describes as the elder brother’s “more dangerous” state of alienation by subverting expectations. The brother who wasted his inheritance repents and is received and honored, while the brother who defended every rule stays outside and burns with anger. Indeed, the elder son’s obedience becomes the obstacle that blocks him from his father, as he clings to a system of merit and expects earned blessings rather than gifts. Keller argues that repentance begins with an admission of need, and the elder son cannot reach that admission.
In The Prodigal God, Keller sets out to clarify the Christian conception of sin by tracing it to any attempt to create worth or security without God. Keller roots this argument in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, where sin emerges as a project of self-salvation. The younger brother chooses open defiance, while the elder brother clings to strict moral effort, yet each son pursues independence from God. Keller therefore argues that genuine repentance must grapple with the desire to justify oneself, not only with visible wrongdoing.
In contrasting the two brothers, Keller identifies two basic ways in which humans try to achieve happiness. The first is self-discovery, which often manifests as a rejection of social norms. Thus, the younger brother concludes that he does not need to obey his father, work hard, or participate in his broader community to lead a fulfilling life. He substitutes his own moral code for society’s, which, by analogy, is also God’s. The second approach to life involves moral conformity, but the elder brother’s story shows how obedience, too, can become a disguised form of revolt. The elder son keeps every rule and praises his own record, yet his goal is to place his father in his debt. When he describes years of “slaving” for his father, he makes it clear that he expects control over the family’s resources and over decisions about forgiveness. This implies that he also believes he knows what is best for himself and has simply chosen a different means of attaining it: The elder brother tries to manage his father (God) through good behavior rather than trust in his grace. Keller therefore argues that any action or mindset that elevates one’s own wishes and goals over God’s, however covertly, is both sinful and futile because “You are serving as your own Savior” (44).
Keller’s analysis of Salieri in Amadeus highlights some of the signs one is engaged in this kind of rebellion. Anger is particularly telling: Because Salieri’s “virtue” is a bargain for glory, not an expression of love, it collapses into rage when Mozart receives the gift Salieri wanted. Keller links this collapse to the elder brother’s fury when the father’s mercy disrupts his expectations. Salieri’s simultaneous jealousy of and disdain for Mozart similarly resonate with Keller’s list of “elder brother” traits, as they imply a sense of both insecurity and superiority. Someone who has truly absorbed the Christian message, Keller argues, recognizes their own sinfulness while also understanding that God loves them regardless; they therefore do not need to prove anything in their interactions with others.
Because Keller defines sin as a refusal to trust God’s rescue, he argues that repentance must reach beyond specific wrongs to encompass the basic human stance toward God, which Christianity teaches has been one of rebellion ever since the Fall. He writes that a Christian must “repent of the reasons [they] ever did anything right” (87). This approach brings hidden motives to the surface since rule-breaking and rule-keeping can each protect a sense of self-sufficiency. Only by confessing the urge to build worth without God can a person understand the gospel and accept God’s grace.
In The Prodigal God, Keller shows that the father’s welcome in the Parable of the Prodigal Son rests on unseen cost. Grace looks free from the perspective of the younger son, yet someone must absorb the loss. Keller points to the elder brother, whose anger rises when he realizes that restoring his sibling reduces his own share of the estate. His refusal exposes what he will not give up and leaves a gap in the parable that points toward a “True Elder Brother,” Jesus Christ, who shoulders the price that brings humanity “home.”
Keller writes that “forgiveness always comes at a cost to the one granting the forgiveness” (94). That cost may be emotional, but it can also manifest materially. In the parable, for example, the father reinstates the younger son by giving him the best robe, a ring, and the fattened calf. These gifts restore the son’s standing, but the family estate—already divided—must now stretch to include him again. The elder brother understands that his brother’s future inheritance will come from what he now owns and refuses to pay this cost, which draws the father outside to plead with him.
Keller argues that the parable places this unyielding elder brother at the center to reveal what a “true” one would do. A true elder brother would not simply consent to dividing his remaining property to reinstate his sibling; he would take on the much more significant burden of leaving home in search of the brother who wandered away, and he would bring that sibling back “at my expense” (92). The parable leaves this role unfilled, and the absence creates room for a figure who will pay the price the elder brother withholds.
Keller identifies Jesus Christ as that true elder brother. Jesus (the Son, in the Christian Trinity) leaves heaven (the “house” of God the Father) and accepts the debt created by human rebellion, a cost far heavier than the loss of an inheritance, as it culminates in his death on the cross. He accepts this exposure and shame so that others can receive honor; Keller writes that Jesus “was stripped naked of his robe and dignity so that we could be clothed with a dignity and standing we don’t deserve” (95). Jesus takes on the exile earned by younger and elder brothers alike, and his sacrifice makes the father’s prodigal generosity possible.
Grace therefore reaches its recipients as a free gift because Jesus bears the full price, not least because it is understanding Jesus’s sacrifice that allows one to avoid the pitfalls of both “elder brother” and “younger brother” living. When one appreciates that sacrifice, Keller argues, obedience to God becomes a source of joy, rendering the basic tension between duty and personal fulfillment void.



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