Heute lesen wir …
Wir lesen als Gruppe jedes Jahr einmal chronologisch die Bibel und fangen mit 1. Mose an und hören mit der Offenbarung auf - mach doch mit
Wir sind
warum ihr beim Lesen der älteren Kommentare (bis 2013) den Eindruck habt, dass wir Zeugen Jehovas sind, erkläre ich hier ausführlich. Nur ganz kurz: NEIN, wir sind keine ZJ, sondern einfach nur Christen – ohne irgendeine Konfession, Dachverband oder Organisation über uns – die für Gott und sein Wort brennen und sich gerne mit anderen darüber unterhalten und austauschen
Hier findest du die Daten zu unseren Treffen
Unser Ziel
… ist es, Menschen die Gott noch nicht kennen, zu ihm zu führen und mit seinem Wort bekannt zu machen; andere mit unserer Begeisterung für Gott und sein Wort anzustecken; einander zu ermuntern, im Glauben zu bleiben und zu wachsen; und einander zu helfen, ein ganz persönliches Verhältnis zum Schöpfer zu entwickeln, zu bewahren und zu vertiefen.
Die Bibel
Wir betrachten die ganze Bibel als Gottes Wort und sie hat für uns oberste Autorität. Wir vertreten keine bestimmte Lehrmeinung, sondern beziehen auch gerne andere Meinungen und Auslegungen mit ein, denn jeder sollte sich selbst anhand der Bibel ein Bild machen
Warum sagen wir „Jehova“?
Bitte „entschuldigt“, aber Arnold Fruchtenbaum – ein Jude, der zu Christus gefunden hat, benutzt (ebenso wie die unrevidierte Elberfelder 1905) diesen Namen als Name Gottes und er hatte auch in einem Seminar mal erklärt, warum:
Auch wenn wir aufgrund der Schreibart der Juden nicht genau wissen, wie der Name früher ausgesprochen wurde (die Juden selbst sprechen ihn überhaupt nicht aus), so wissen wir doch, dass die meisten Namen der Bibel, die ein „Je“ drin haben, von dem Namen Gottes abgeleitet sind, wie zum.B. Jesus, Jesaja, Jeremia – um nur einige zu nennen
Viele sprechen den Namen heute gar nicht mehr aus, das HERR hat den Gottes Namen in der Bibel ersetzt. Die meisten Übersetzer, die den Namen drin gelassen haben, übersetzen ihn mit Jahwe. Der Name Jehova wird sehr ungern benutzt, da er an die Zeugen Jehovas erinnert…
Wichtig ist, dass der Name überhaupt benutzt wird, wir werden es unter anderem auch bei den 10 Plagen noch sehen. Es steht dir also frei, Jahwe oder Jehova zu sagen.
Wir benutzen wie Arnold Fruchtenbaum den Namen Jehova – aus den selben Gründen
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Wir lesen als Gruppe jedes Jahr einmal chronologisch die Bibel und fangen mit 1. Mose an und hören mit der Offenbarung auf - mach doch mit
Der verlorene Sohn – hatte bereits alles verloren, bevor er das Haus des Vaters verließ
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The parable in Luke 15:11–32 commonly called the Prodigal Son is often read as a story about departure and return. The younger son leaves, wastes his inheritance, falls into misery, and eventually comes home.
That movement is real and important.
But the text invites us to notice something
quieter and more unsettling, the younger
son’s lostness did not begin in the far country.
It began while he was still under his father’s roof.
Jesus introduced the story without drama.
“There was a man who had two sons.”
The setting is ordinary and familiar.
But when the younger son asks
for his share of the inheritance,
the request carries a weight that
we modern readers can easily miss.
In the ancient world, inheritance
was received at the father’s death.
To ask for it early was not simply impatient,
it was relationally and intentionally violent.
It was a way of saying, I want what you give, not you yourself.
In effect, the son wished to live as though
his father were already gone.
Nothing in the text suggests that the son
was mistreated, neglected, or forced to leave.
His request does not arise from suffering
but rather from restlessness.
He is surrounded by provision,
yet inwardly detached from the giver.
Before he ever sets foot on the road,
his heart has already moved away from the father.
This is the first form of lostness Jesus reveals,
separation without distance.
The son is physically near but relationally far.
He lives in the father’s house physically
but he does not live with the father by heart.
He knows the resources of the household
but not the joy of communion there.
His desire for autonomy, for a life on his own terms
has already displaced trust and belonging.
When the father grants the inheritance,
Scripture offers no commentary.
There is no rebuke, no explanation,
no resistance recorded.
To me, that silence from the father is striking.
Love, in this parable, does not coerce.
The father allows the son to take what he demands,
even though it will cost both of them dearly.
The son leaves, but he leaves already lost.
The far country only makes visible what was already true.
The famine does not create his emptiness, it exposes it.
When the money is gone and hunger sets in,
the son finally begins to see himself clearly.
“He came to himself,” the Bible says.
This is not merely regret over consequences,
it is a moment of awakening.
He recognizes that even the hired servants
in his father’s house live better than he does now.
For the first time, he remembers the father
not as a source of wealth, but as a source of life.
Yet even in repentance, his understanding is partial.
He rehearses a speech centered on worth and status,
„I am no longer worthy… make me like one of your hired servants“.
He still thinks in terms of earning a place,
not in terms of receiving a relationship.
He plans his return, but he cannot imagine restoration.
The father’s response redefines the entire story.
He sees the son from a distance, not because the son
has earned his way back, but because
the father has been watching all along.
He runs, embraces, restores.
There is no interrogation, no probation.
The robe, the ring, and the feast
are not rewards for improved behavior,
they are declarations of sonship.
The father does not receive a servant
who has learned his lesson.
He receives a son who was always his,
even when he was lost.
This is where the parable quietly moves beyond
the younger son and toward its deeper theological horizon.
Lostness, Jesus suggests,
is not first about geography or morality.
It is about relationship.
One can be near sacred things
but far from the Father’s heart.
One can live among blessings
while being detached from the Blesser.
The younger son’s journey outward simply revealed
what had already taken place inward.
The gospel clarity of the parable rests here,
restoration is not achieved by returning to the right place,
but by being received by the right person.
The father’s love precedes repentance,
outpaces confession, and restores
before the son can finish speaking.
Grace interrupts the script.
And quietly, without force, the story points beyond itself.
Jesus tells this parable on the way to a cross
where another Son will leave the Father’s presence,
not in rebellion, but in obedience.
Unlike the younger son,
He will not grasp for independence.
He will not demand His rights.
He will enter the far country of human sin
and suffering to bring the lost home.
Where the prodigal squandered the father’s wealth,
Christ will give Himself.
Where the son returned hoping to be a servant,
Christ will restore many to true sonship.
The parable ends unresolved, inviting reflection.
But its central truth lingers, the most dangerous
form of lostness is not always found in obvious rebellion.
Sometimes it is found in quiet distance, familiar routines,
and hearts that want the Father’s gifts without the Father Himself.
And yet, the greater truth remains, the Father runs.