Lost
Luke 15:1-10
September 15, 16, 2007

Lost! Some of you have been dedicated fans of the tremendously popular television series—even when the story line seemed to get lost for a while. The show has had so many twists and turns and confusion about the characters that it has rightfully earned its name! There is something about someone being “lost” that piques our curiosity and causes us to sit up and take notice! The word “lost” evokes all of the “dubya” questions in our minds—and I’m not referring to the President. Who played a part in this? What happened to them? When will they be found? Where are they? Why is it taking so long to figure this out?

“Lost” stories have been in the headlines recently. Lots of time and money are being invested as authorities investigate the mysterious disappearance of millionaire-adventurer Steve Fossett. No trace has been found of his single-engine plane. Rich, famous, and apparently happy in his pursuits of adventure, theories are popping up all over the place. Could he have grown tired of the limelight and wanted to start a new life? Could he have fled some personal or financial problems? Could he just be trying to draw more attention to himself? One official said that they are considering all the options, but “we may never find him.”

There is another lost story on the cover of People Magazine this week. Young Madeleine McCann disappeared on the evening of May 3 in Portugal, just days short of her 4th birthday. Her disappearance has generated international media attention. Now there is growing controversy as to whether Madeleine’s parents were involved. Of course, her parents have vehemently denied these claims. It is amazing to me that with all of the other problems going on around the globe, so many people snap to attention when one innocent little child becomes lost.

OF COURSE, STORIES LIKE THESE HAVE BEEN AROUND FOR A LONG, LONG TIME. Our text contains two of the three “lost-and-found” stories in Luke. The parable of the lost sheep recalls a familiar image. Comparing God with a shepherd who provided divine care was a well-established tradition. But the comparison may have been almost too “common.” Some of the religious elitists in Jesus’ audience may have considered such mundane matters “beneath them.” Jesus reveals nothing more about the “lost sheep” than its disappearance and the shepherd’s decision to “leave the 99” in order to find it. Some concerned souls have often suggested that surely this shepherd must have secured safety for those 99 while he went out searching. But Jesus’ parable doesn’t mention it. What drives the shepherd out into the wilderness is a determination, bordering almost on an obsession, to find and reclaim the lost sheep. Instead of judging him to be foolish for leaving the 99, Jesus brings us alongside the shepherd’s lonely, long, all-out search for the one lost sheep. When the shepherd returns with the wooly mammal, he calls on everybody to rejoice—exuberantly and extravagantly!

The “lost coin” story is a parallel parable of the “lost sheep.” The repetition seems to be intentional and meant to reinforce the message. The woman’s behavior is just as fixed and just as determined as the shepherd’s. To recover one coin, she sacrifices the order of her whole house—she tears it apart! Some concerned souls have felt the need to explain this woman’s single-minded behavior. They’ll point out that the number 10, like the number 100, is a perfect, complete number—representing wholeness. Others remind us that the coin could have been part of a bridal necklace, a part of her dowry. But Jesus seems to focus less on these kinds of details and more on the concept that the coin’s true value comes only from its “found-ness.” Jesus wants people to realize how God operates. God seeks and searches relentlessly. When God finds those who are lost, there is joy and celebration! It is time to PARTY!

COULD IT BE THAT THE PEOPLE INSIDE THE WALLS OF THE CHURCH SOMETIMES FORGET TO “LIVE OUT” THESE TYPES OF PARABLES? While we want the church to be a place that we call home, the church is not intended to function like some “country club” for Christians. The church’s primary mission is outside its walls. We’re called to be “out among” God’s people—seeking, finding. Sometimes I have these frustrating conversations with people who gripe and grump about attendance dropping off in their class or small group or in worship. Then I’ll ask them, “How many people have you invited the past week, the past month, the past year?” More often than not, they’ll mumble and stumble around a bit—then they’ll say, “None.” There are far too many folks who feel that the finding and seeking business of the Church is to be done by the professional shepherds. But I’ll tell you a secret that you already know. The most effective shepherds, the best-connected and networked folks, the most effective seekers and finders are you—the people in the pews. By far, the number one reason people start rockin’ with the Flock is because of a God-through-you personal invitation from a family member or friend.

I heard about a church in North Carolina. In a radical effort to transform the church from a “come and hear” church to a “go and tell” congregation, church leaders canceled the worship service one weekend. They encouraged members to volunteer in the community. Folks fanned out to 15 sites to paint and landscape a chapel for the homeless, clean concrete blocks for Habitat for Humanity, wallpaper and paint an emergency shelter, feed the poor, and lead devotionals at a nursing home. Senior adults and children stayed at the church to make tote bags and blankets for the homeless. The day closed with a 7 p.m. service at the church. One of the church members said, “It became a religious renewal for our people.” “Many of our folks have been giving money to groups that minister to the poor.” “But we had never had rubbed shoulders with them.”

LAST WEEKEND, BRANDON, ELLEN, AND I TRAVELED TO WACO, TEXAS, TO BE A PART OF THE 50TH ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION OF LAKEWOOD CHRISTIAN CHURCH. We had the privilege of being a part of that church family for 10 years before we came to Beargrass ten years ago. It was a joy to see many of our friends and faithful members of the congregation—although I confess that it was a joy to see some more than others! After we moved, the church did some remarkable things. They completed a new sanctuary and continued to provide significant ministry to the community. But then there were some leadership changes and difficult times. Worship attendance dropped off significantly. Folks began to fight and feud. Feelings were hurt. But fortunately, things seem to have settled down now with some new leadership and a fresh look to the future. The new sanctuary was packed out for the morning worship service and around 400 people remained for the luncheon after worship. All of the former ministers who were able to attend were invited to say a few words and offer some reflections at the luncheon. That’s dangerous! (That could take all day!) So we were urged to be light, be brief, and be gone.

When it was my turn to speak, I shared some light, brief comments about how good it was to see everybody and how our family was doing. But before I moved to the “gone” step, I felt compelled to say something that was not so light. Church family reunions are such odd events. They are filled with a myriad of memories. Some are melancholy and miserable. Some are great and grateful. There is laughter and tears and sadness and celebration. Somebody said it was like being in a weird time warp. As I looked out at the mix of people in fellowship hall, each one had a different story to tell. About one-fourth of the 99 founding members of the church were there, so they had fond memories of their first pastor and the excitement of getting things fired up in 1957. There were others who became a part of the faith community at various times in the past 50 years. Some had weathered the storms. Some had left the church to go elsewhere, but had come back for the anniversary celebration. Some had stopped going to church at all. Some people did not attend because they vowed that they would never step foot inside the building again. Some were glad to see some of the former ministers. Some were not. Some of the newer folks who have just come on board were blissfully ignorant of any of the church’s ups and downs. A part of me ached and grieved for them because of the difficulties and losses the church had experienced. But a part of me also wanted to remind them that we have a God who pulls off resurrections and gives us hope when we are lost.

So I will share the story with you that I shared with our Lakewood friends in the Lone Star State. Something remarkable happened in the worship service in Waco last Sunday morning. There were numerous meaningful moments—but most of the people missed this one. It was time for the choir to sing. I was sitting in a chair on the chancel. The choir director moved to the music stand, made some adjustments, and motioned for the singers to rise. Just as cued the organist, a baby started crying. And I don’t mean crying—I mean CRYING. It hasn’t happened here, but I have been in churches where the choir director would roll his eyes. I have been in churches where she would give a perturbed look at the choir and shake her head. The most dramatic reaction I have seen is when the choir director actually turned around and stared at the parent and child until they were so embarrassed that they left the sanctuary! But that’s not what this choir director did. He simply smiled at the singers and mouthed two words to them: “Future member.” And the baby calmed down. And the organist played on. And the anthem was beautiful. For me, those two words were the highlight of the service. Instead of complaining or driving the family out of the sanctuary, he heard the cries of an infant in need and reframed the whole experience.

“Future member.” Those two words went straight to my heart, they stuck in my mind, they captured my imagination. Those two words provided a purpose and mission statement for the church. When we see a child in the hallway throwing a temper tantrum, we can whisper to ourselves, “Future member.” When one of our young people pulls into the church parking lot playing music we don’t like so loudly that the windows are rattling, we can whisper to ourselves, “Future member.” When we meet someone who is searching for meaning and hope because their family or marriage or job or dreams have been dashed, we can whisper to ourselves, “Future member.” When we come face to face with someone who cannot shake an alcohol or drug or sexual addiction, we can whisper to ourselves, “Future member.” When we hear the cries of those beyond the walls of the church, cries that echo around the globe from those caught in the webs of war, poverty, injustice, and disease, we can whisper to ourselves, “Future mission.” And when lonely older adults beckon us to come and visit and stay awhile, we can give thanks to God for them. Because somewhere, sometime along the way, one of them looked at us when we were crying or throwing a tantrum. One of them noticed that we were lost. One of them heard God’s whisper of grace, “Future member, my child, a part of my family.” I tell you, there is great joy in heaven when one who has been lost…is found.