What Is Lost

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."

Family Values?

Luke 14:25-33

September 8, 2013

            In the last few months a commercial aired that stirred up controversy with a capital C.  Some people got angry. There was backlash against the makers of the product.  People on the other side of the issue made sure that their voices in support of the product were heard as well. Nasty things from both sides were said on social media.  The response to the commercial seemed to highlight, yet again, how divided we are in our society.  So what product, what item sparked such passionate and even virulent responses from so many different people?  Was it something illicit or dangerous or somehow morally questionable? 

Actually, it was Cheerios.  You know Cheerios -- the breakfast cereal with the happy name.  Cheery – O!  Cheerios were a staple in my house growing up.  I loved Cheerios when I was a kid.  I still do.  The different varieties of Cheerios are great, but I’m equally content with basic Cheerios.  When my kids were little, we always had Cheerios on hand.  They were their first finger foods.  In fact one of my favorite Cheerios commercials even features a grandmother talking to her grandchild, who is sitting in a highchair eating … Cheerios. 

But what was it about this commercial that stirred up such a hornets nest?  One of the benefits touted about Cheerios is that eating them as part of a balanced diet is good for your heart.  So in this commercial, a little girl goes into the kitchen to ask her mother about this.  Her mother tells her that, yes, Cheerios have ingredients that can be heart healthy.  The little girl takes the box and runs off.  In the next scene we see the father, who’s been napping on the couch, wake up covered in Cheerios.  The commercial ends by going to a black screen with the word “Love” on it, and the Cheerios jingle. 

What’s so controversial?  The mother in the commercial is white.  The father is black.  The daughter is biracial.  While the backlash to this commercial took many forms, I think the underlying tension is based on two dangerous little words; family values.  The concept of family values has been a hot button issue politically and socially.  Certainly it has challenged people of faith.  Everybody claims to uphold the idea of family values.  I doubt that any of us would disagree that family values are important.  They are the lynchpin of our society.  I would suspect that no matter where someone might fall along the political spectrum, he or she would believe that family values are essential. 

But what exactly are family values?  That’s the tricky part, trying to define them.  There are so many different understandings of what makes a family.  That’s where we run into trouble, or so it seems.  We might agree that family values are important, but we disagree as to what the composition of a family should be.  Who should be counted as a family and who shouldn’t?  No matter what form our answer to that question would take, I think we could all agree on one thing – Jesus’s answer to family values in this passage is terrifying. 

Jesus does not espouse anything close to what we might think of as family values in these verses from Luke 14.  Instead, he seems to throw the whole idea of family values completely out the window. 

“Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.”

Whoever comes to me and does not hate father, mother, children, sibling, spouse.  If you want to be my disciple you have to hate family.  Hate?  While these words of Jesus might disturb us and make us uncomfortable, they would have shocked and outraged those listening to Jesus.  Judaism also espoused family values, but the understanding of family was not so much about what a family looked like.  Family values were found in the function of a family.  Family meant survival.  Family meant protection.  Their life and culture revolved around family.  There’s a reason why widows and orphans are lifted up as those who must be helped.  If you were a widow or an orphan, without family, you were vulnerable.  The family was the source of finances and the passing on of the skills necessary to survive in the world.  The family was where the rites and rituals of faith were learned.  The family was critical to every aspect of that society and culture.

Yet here comes Jesus telling them that in order to follow him, they would have to hate family.  I imagine many would have looked critically at Jesus, not just for saying these words, but also because he seemed to be living them out.  Where was Jesus’ family?  In Luke, more than in any other gospel, we learn about Jesus’ family; his mother, his father, his cousin John.  When we read the story of Jesus at age 12 staying behind in the temple, we read that he has made that journey not just with mom and dad, but with a large group of family.  Jesus was born into a family business, and any other son would have been home working in that business.  But Jesus left his family to travel the countryside, to preach and to teach.  Now he’s telling them to do the same.  While they might be inspired by his words, while they might really want to follow him and live in this community of God that he tells them about, now he’s telling them that they’re going to have to hate family to do so.  This is a much harder decision than they realized.

I think that’s the point.  Becoming a disciple, following Jesus requires a decision, and that decision is not easy.  Making the choice to follow Jesus, to be his disciple should not be taken lightly.  Jesus often used hyperbole, exaggerated language, to drive home the message he was giving, and I suspect that’s true to some degree in this passage as well.  But that doesn’t lessen his fundamental message.  Discipleship will cost you.  If you’re going to follow me you have to count the cost. 

He tells them, if a builder sets out to build a tower, he’s going to estimate the cost of building that tower before he starts.  Otherwise he’ll get the foundation poured, but he won’t have the means to finish the whole tower.  If a king is about wage war against another king, and the first king realizes that his army will be outnumbered, he’s going to send delegates to talk about peace.  So if you count the cost about other things, why wouldn’t you count the cost required in following me? 

I think the crux of this passage, of Jesus’ message, is that discipleship, following, requires sacrifice.   I don’t think Jesus hated families.  But he knew that making discipleship a priority meant that many things, including families, would have to be left behind.  Between his words about hating family and the way that builders and kings considered the cost of their endeavors, he also said this, “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” 

We have to remember that Jesus was not just meandering around the countryside, he was heading to Jerusalem.  He was going to the cross.  He knew it.  So as I’ve said in past sermons, there is an increased urgency to his words.  He’s going to Jerusalem.  He knows what sacrifice will be asked of him there.  If you want to follow him, you’re going to have to be ready to leave everything and everyone behind.  You’re going to have to be ready for the cost of that choice.  You’re going to have to be ready to sacrifice.  So before you say, “yes”, count the cost.

One of the commentators I read before writing this sermon said that sacrifice is not something we necessarily think about when it comes to church.  Often in the hectic pace of our daily lives, church and church activities is what is sacrificed.  This commentator pointed out that psychologists tell us that we value most that for which we sacrifice.  Perhaps, he mused, one factor in the decline of the mainline denominations is that we’ve made church and the Christian life too easy.  There’s no sacrifice in church for us to value.  I don’t know.  I’m not sure that would be the most popular evangelistic tack.  Come to church.  We’ll make your life harder.  But I think that what I found most powerful about Jesus’ words is that discipleship was not meant to be easy.  But it will be worth it.  There is new life to be found in discipleship.  I’m not referring to an eternal prize.  I think we focus so much on eternal life and what’s waiting for us after death, that we forget about life right now.  Jesus isn’t talking about how we get to heaven.  He’s talking about the content and the character of discipleship right now.  What are the marks of a life of discipleship?  It’s not easy.  There will be sacrifice.  There will be a cost.  You may have to leave people behind, even the people you love the most.  But it will be worth it.

I didn’t have to hate my family to get to the point where I could stand in the pulpit today.  But I had to be willing to hate the belief that many of them had – that women had no business preaching.  I had to be willing to hate my grandfather’s belief that I shouldn’t be a minister because of my gender.  I had to be willing to hate my grandmother’s references to my sermons as the little “talks” I gave in church.  I know that there are others who have made far greater sacrifices than I ever have or will.  Certainly Jesus’ words also make me reflect on what sacrifices I should be making that I shy away from.  But I understand a little better the hate Jesus referred to.  I understand a little bit about the sacrifice and the cost he called them to reckon.

What do we as a congregation need to sacrifice for our discipleship as a community?  What crosses are we being called to carry?  What cost do we need to count?  I know that these aren’t easy questions, and they certainly won’t have easy answers.  But I also believe that it is here, together, where we will find the courage and the strength to seek out those answers, to make whatever sacrifices we’re called to make.  I know it won’t be easy, but I think it will be worth it.  Let God’s family, God’s children say, “Amen.”

Just Keep Swimming

(This article was printed in the September 7, 2013 Minister's Corner Column of the Shawnee News Star)

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us…”                 Hebrews 12:1 New Revised Standard Version

            “Just keep swimming.”          Dorie, Finding Nemo

            With all of the unsettling news that is constantly before us, it has been refreshing and inspirational this past week to read about Diana Nyad’s unprecedented swim from Cuba to Florida.  Swimming that distance meant over 50 hours in the water.  What’s even more incredible is that she made this swim at the age of 62.  I’m a bit younger, and I’m thrilled when I push myself on the elliptical.  Over 50 hours of swimming.  62 years old.  Incredible!

            But this was not Nyad’s first attempt.  At the age of 60 she went through the intense training necessary for the swim from Cuba to Florida.  After her first attempt, she gave a TED talk in which she describes what happened on that initial try.  She was swimming strong.  She was physically and mentally ready.  But well into the journey, she was stung by a box jellyfish.  The box jellyfish is the most venomous of all the ocean’s creatures.  The body’s first response is excruciating, burning pain.  After that paralysis begins to set in.  But she kept swimming.  Her team’s EMT who was in one of the boats surrounding her jumped in to help and he was also stung.  He was a young man in excellent physical condition, but the pain of that sting was so debilitating he was flat on his back, trying to give himself epinephrine shots so he could then help her.  A medical team from Florida arrived hours later and made a floating ICU around her.  She kept swimming.  She swam until she was stung again.  She accepted this would be a staged swim and got out of the water.  However the effect of the stings on her body was too much and she abandoned her attempt.  Her words; she failed. 

            As inspiring as I found her description of that first swim, what I found most powerful was the why.  Why did she decide to do this in the first place?  She turned 60 and she wasn’t happy about it.  Those first 60 years had gone by in a blink of an eye.  In the 1970’s she had broken swimming records, but hadn’t swam competitively since.  Even with her successes, she realized that she had spent a majority of time in negative thinking.  She focused on her failures and her mistakes only.    

            Around this time her 82 year old mother died.  In addition to dwelling in the past, Nyad now dreaded the future.  If she died at the same age as her mother, that was only 22 years away.  What would she do with the rest of her life in time that was fleeting?  She set a goal, she created a dream.  That dream was so big, so challenging it would push her to be fully present in her life.  There would be no time for negative dwelling in the past or worrying about the unknown of the future.  Chasing this dream would be the hardest thing she could undertake.  As Nyad observed, the sport of swimming is like life.  You face endless obstacles.  But (my paraphrase) do you sink or do you just keep swimming? 

            The author of Hebrews had a different kind of race in mind in this first verse of chapter 12.  It was a race of faith with the goal, the prize being eternal life.  No matter what obstacles or challenges the world throws at us, we have to persevere.  We have to keep running this race, knowing that we are running toward God with Christ as our example and “pioneer.” But I think the underlying message of this verse and of Diana Nyad’s  accomplishment is hope.  Hope isn’t just something that comes to us.  We must persist in hope.  We must persevere in hope.  We have to cling to hope even though every other voice out there may tell us we’re nuts to do so.  Hope requires powerful persistence.  Hope requires being willing to dream something so big, so different from what reality seems to be that it seems impossible.  We read throughout scripture that the abundant life God wants us to have is going to be radically different than our expectations.  The kingdom is not what we think it will be.  What may seem impossible to us is always possible for God.  So we persist in hope.

            Concluding her talk, Nyad paraphrased the poet Mary Oliver; what will we do with our one wild, precious life?  We have been given a wild, precious life.  How will we live it?  Will we live a life of persistent hope and seemingly impossible dreams? Will we live a life of courage, trusting that God is with us in every step of this race no matter the obstacles?  Will we live a life abundant in compassion, mercy and love?  What will we do with our wild, precious life?