Luke 15:1-10
September 15, 2013
I
don't do well with being lost. I cannot
tell you the number of times that I have had directions to whatever location I’m trying to find, followed those
directions, yet still found myself driving around and around -- usually crying
-- because for whatever reason I have gotten hopelessly lost. As I am directionally challenged, I am often
to blame for being lost. But I've also
been lost due to the bad directions of others.
When I first moved to Albany, New York I had a meeting with that
presbytery's Committee on Ministry. It
was a night meeting at a church somewhere in Albany. I asked the person who contacted me to give
me very specific directions because I was so new to the area. He did.
He just happened to leave out the fact that I took one interstate and
then took a second interstate. That was
kind of a big step to leave out. Not
knowing that I was supposed to take that second interstate got me lost, really,
really lost. So there I was, driving up and down the interstate, trying to find
an exit where I could turn around and find a phone -- because this was in the
days before we all had cell phones –
so I could call the church. I talked to
a lovely woman who gave me the right directions and I managed to get to the
meeting. Late. Crying.
Mad.
As
much as I dread being lost in a strange city, what's worse for me is being lost
in the country. The countryside in
southern Minnesota is quite lovely in the summer. Gently rolling hills, the land punctuated by winding
gravel roads and farms with crops in full flowering. The challenge is that these roads don't
always have names, or if they do there's not an abundance of street signs to
tell you what the names are. When I was
serving there, we had two services in the summer at an historic church in the
countryside. The first time I went I
followed some parishioners. The second
time I was pretty sure I could find it myself.
I
was doing pretty well. I made the first
part of the trip just fine, until I came to a curve in the road that joined
with another road. If I went one way, I
continued to follow the road I wanted to be on, the one that led me to the church. Going the other way led you further into the
countryside. Guess which road I
chose?
I
had a cell phone at this point. But it
was pre-GPS navigation smart phones. I
didn't have a number for the country church because it didn't have electricity,
much less a phone. To my dismay, I
realized I didn't have cell numbers for any of the parishioners programmed into
my phone. As the time for worship drew
near and worried because the preacher still hadn't shown up, one of the members
called me. Thankfully he had my number
even if I didn’t
have his. At this point I had pulled off
to the side, crying, wondering what the heck I was going to do. He was sending out a search party, but I had
no clue where I was, so I was wildly searching for some description of my location. Not being a country girl, in my eyes one
stretch of farmland looks like any other.
So I'm trying to describe what the crops look like. I drive a little ways and I see a mailbox
with a name on it. The minute I told him
the name, he knew exactly where I was. A
few minutes later, two of the man's grown kids came to retrieve me. When they pulled up, I could see the sister
emphatically saying something to her brother.
He had his face in his hands, and his whole upper body was shaking. I knew she was telling him to stop
laughing. When I got out of the car I pointed my finger and said, "Laugh, and
I'm going home." That was an empty
threat really, because if I couldn't find the church I probably couldn't find
my way home either. But it all turned
out fine. I followed them back, led
worship. I followed someone else back to
the main highway and lived to tell the story.
I also got a GPS for Christmas.
As awful as it was to be lost, it was equally
wonderful to know that someone was out looking for me. I wasn't going to stay lost, because they
weren't going to let me stay lost. They
were going to find me, no matter what.
That
finding no matter what is the thread that runs through these parables from Luke
15. The third, the one that we don't
actually read today, is the most famous one; the Prodigal Son. These two preceding parables are ones that we
don't always hear as much about; the lost sheep and the lost coin.
Sinners
and tax collectors were coming near to Jesus to listen to him. This made the Pharisees and all the other
good and righteous people around him grumble.
"Look at this guy Jesus! He
even welcomes sinners." Jesus
answers their grumbling with these stories.
If a shepherd has 100 sheep and one of those was lost, wouldn't the
shepherd leave the 99 in the wilderness and search and search for the lost one?
When the lost one is found, the shepherd rejoices, laying the sheep across his
shoulders, carrying it home. And when he
arrives home, he calls together his family and neighbors and asks them to
rejoice with him. The lost sheep is
found.
As
I've said before Jesus’
words in Luke's gospel are more radical than they may first seem. Jesus makes this shepherd searching for his
lost sheep sound matter-of-fact and expected.
But was it? Those listening to
him may have been a bit shocked or bewildered by Jesus' story. Would a shepherd really leave 99 sheep
exposed in the wilderness to find just one?
That would have been reckless to say the least.
The
story about the woman and the lost coin probably didn't help clarify Jesus’ point. A woman has 10 silver coins, but loses one of
them. She lights a lamp, takes up her
broom and sweeps the entire house, searching every nook and cranny until she
finally finds the coin. When she does
she also calls together her friends and neighbors to celebrate. Let's have a party! The coin I lost is found!
Coins
in the ancient world were valuable. If
we were to lose a penny or even a quarter, we may look for a bit, but it
wouldn't be with the same intensity.
It's just a coin. That wouldn't have
been true for the people listening to Jesus so I imagine it mades some sense
that the woman searched for it. But to
search so intently, to go to such great lengths to find this coin? That was odd.
To invite all of her friends and neighbors in for a party to celebrate
finding a coin would have been odder still.
Jesus ends both of these parables by saying that if the shepherd and the
woman rejoiced over finding the lost sheep and coin, than the joy in heaven,
the rejoicing of the angels, will be even greater over one sinner who repents.
The
shepherd's search for the sheep was reckless.
The woman's search for the coin was relentless. The reactions to both were extravagant. It seems to me that what Jesus is telling
them is that if we would go to great lengths to find a sheep or a coin, God
goes to even greater lengths to find the ones who are lost. God searches recklessly, relentlessly for the
lost. God looks in every nook and
cranny, God searches every path, recklessly, relentlessly seeking even one who
is lost. And when that lost one is found
the rejoicing is extravagant.
That's
all well and good, except for one thing.
Who is lost? Aren't we, by being
here, proclaiming that we are not lost?
I mean we're here, right? In
church, in worship, in the pulpit and the pews and the choir loft. It's great to think that someone out there
who has lost his or her way is found by God.
It's wonderful to hear stories of those who see just how lost they are
and realize that God has been searching and searching for them. And upon this realization they repent, they
turn around and reorient themselves to God. They were lost but now they're
found.
A
second question is this: how do the sheep and the coin represent those who are
lost and repent? It doesn't make
sense. If we'd kept on reading and heard
again the story of the Prodigal son, then repentance makes sense. The son took off, wasted his inheritance,
wasted what he'd been given. But he came
to himself. He came to himself and
turned around. He went back. He sought repentance. He was definitely lost. Upon returning home, he was definitely found.
Did
the sheep know it was lost? Or did it
just wander away, looking down instead of up, seeking better grazing, greener
grass? The coin was most likely dropped. It slipped out of the woman's hand or fell
from a purse or a pocket. It could have
been so easily forgotten. Yet both were
searched for relentlessly, recklessly.
Both were found. Both were reason
to rejoice.
Maybe
you don’t
feel as though you’re
lost now, but have you ever been? Have
you looked up one day and not recognized the life you were living or the person
you'd become? Have you ever felt
forgotten, as though you’d
slipped through the cracks of life and no one noticed your disappearance? That's being lost. Maybe the reason we're here is not just because
we're supposed to be here, but
because we were lost but now we're found.
God searched recklessly and relentlessly for us. God never gave up or turned back. That's grace.
That's how much we are loved. God
searches relentlessly, even recklessly until all who are lost are found. Let all God's children, those who know they are
found and those still being sought, say, "Amen."
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