The Prodigal Son and the Son Who Stayed: A Decolonized Perspective on Obedience, Worth, and Liberation
When most people hear the parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11–32), their focus lands on the younger son, the one who left home, squandered everything, and returned in humility. In countless sermons and Bible studies, he’s the star of the redemption story.
But there’s another son in this story. The one who stayed home. The one who “did everything right.” The one whose story is usually told as a moral footnote.
From a decolonization and deconstruction standpoint, the older son’s experience offers just as much , if not more, to unpack. His life invites us to question the systems, mindsets, and spiritual frameworks that reward compliance while quietly withholding true freedom.
Obedience Without Liberation Is Still Bondage
The older son followed all the rules. He stayed on the land, worked the fields, and served the family faithfully. In the eyes of many, he’s the “good son,” disciplined, loyal, and moral.
But when his brother returned and received celebration, the older son’s heart revealed something deeper: bitterness, resentment, and alienation.
Colonized religion often teaches that compliance equals worthiness. Many of us, especially those from marginalized communities, are taught to be twice as good, work twice as hard, and never step out of line. Yet, doing “everything right” inside an oppressive system doesn’t necessarily set us free, it often reinforces the system’s hold on us.
Scarcity Thinking Is a Colonizer’s Tool
The older son saw his father’s joy for his brother as a personal loss. He believed that celebration for the other meant less for him.
This is the heart of scarcity thinking. The idea that love, opportunity, and resources are limited. Colonial systems depend on this mindset to keep people in competition rather than solidarity.
In a decolonized worldview, abundance is the truth: liberation for one does not diminish liberation for another.
Proximity to Power Doesn’t Guarantee Freedom
The older son lived in the father’s house all along but never seemed to feel like a true heir. His words reveal that he saw himself less as a beloved son and more as a servant.
Many of us work within institutions of power, churches, corporations, schools, believing proximity will eventually translate into protection or reward. But without empowerment, proximity only makes you a caretaker of someone else’s legacy.
You Can Be Home and Still Lost
While his brother wandered physically, the older son was spiritually estranged. He was present in body but disconnected in heart.
Colonized faith systems can keep us bound in rituals, rules, and service without ever nourishing our spirits. The father’s words, “Everything I have is yours” are a gentle reminder that presence in the institution is not the same as connection to the divine.
The “Good Child” Role Is a Form of Self-Erasure
For many in marginalized communities, being “the responsible one” becomes an identity. It’s a survival strategy with the idea “if I don’t cause trouble, if I meet every expectation, I’ll be safe.”
But this role often comes at the expense of our own joy, creativity, and authenticity. The system rewards our usefulness, not our wholeness.
Oppressive Systems Benefit From Sibling Division
The parable places the brothers in opposition, the “wild” one and the “loyal” one. In our world, systems of oppression thrive when we measure ourselves against each other instead of questioning the system itself.
From a liberation standpoint, the true work is building solidarity between those who leave and those who stay, because both are navigating the same system in different ways.
Obedience Doesn’t Equal Moral Superiority
Colonized theology often elevates the rule-follower as more worthy of love and redemption than the wanderer. Yet in this story, the father affirms both sons as equally beloved.
Liberation dismantles the false moral hierarchy that says worth is earned through performance. It reminds us that love is an inheritance, not a reward.
The Older Son’s Liberation
In a decolonized reading, the older son isn’t a villain or just a “lesson in bitterness.” He is a human being who has invested his entire life in a system that promised belonging and delivered conditional love.
His awakening isn’t about “learning to be happy for his brother.” It’s about reclaiming his own joy, unlearning scarcity, and stepping into the fullness of his inheritance — not as a servant of the system, but as a liberated heir.
Final Reflection:
Many of us are the older son. We’ve stayed. We’ve complied. We’ve built our identities around being the “good one.” But liberation, true spiritual and cultural freedom, asks us to question whether the system we’ve been loyal to was ever worthy of our loyalty in the first place.
The invitation is the same for both sons: Come inside, be embraced, and live as one who is already loved.