Luke 15:1-10

In the meantime, while the big party is going on ….

In the meantime, while the rugs are being rolled back and the stereo turned on, and the maid is putting two extra leaves in the dining room table ….

In the meantime, while the newly rescued lamb is reclining in the seat of honor, and the shepherd is telling the story of the adventure for the umpteenth time ….

In the meantime, while I suppose they’re doing what they do at the end of this chapter, that is, killing the fatted calf and roasting it … (I hope the little lamb likes veal! I hope the little lamb is … housebroken!) ….

In the meantime, out there on a hillside in the wilderness, 99 sheep are wondering what happened to their fearless leader! “It’s getting dark out here! When did she say she’d be back? I wonder if we need to send out a search party for her?  Does anybody know what’s going on out here? Was that a coyote howl I just heard?”

Do you notice that this shepherd is not running the business like a business? Neglecting the numbers, ignoring the bottom line, risking the larger loss in chasing a small profit. Acting as if one bird in the bush is worth 99 in the hand. Acting as if this stupid sheep is a member of the family!

I wonder: Is that what God is like?

And that woman! It was only a coin! She’s calling the neighbors in, she’s having a party, probably serving tea and cookies, or, I don’t know, maybe even champagne and fancy ors d’ouevres! What if something gets spilled on the carpet? Is it cost effective to celebrate when all you’ve done is find a lost coin? Pretty extravagant, if you ask me!

I wonder: Is that what God is like?

The story of the shepherd and the lost sheep is one of those stories that seem so simple until you read it carefully. Then suddenly it’s not as simple as you thought. So now I’m wondering, who is lost in this story? Is it the single sheep nibbling along head-down, ignoring everything until it suddenly realizes it can’t hear the others, it can’t see the others, and nobody responds to its cry for help? Is it the shepherd who goes charging across the countryside, abandoning the flock, desperate to find the singleton? Is it the 99 who suddenly find themselves leaderless, out in the desert alone? Because let me tell you, with sheep it doesn’t matter if there’s one, or 99, or 9999; without a shepherd they are alone!

[Singing] “There were ninety and nine that safely lay in the shelter of the fold ….” Or maybe not! The old song has it wrong. If you read the story carefully these sheep aren’t in the sheepfold. They’ve been abandoned in the wilderness.

I wonder: Is that what God is like?

And I also wonder: who am I in the story? Who are you in the story? “Am I that treasured coin worth searching for?” “[Are you] that treasured sheep worth dying for?” as we sang a few minutes ago. Or am I one of the 99 left behind, grumpy, resentful, frightened? Or am I that shepherd, that housewife, searching, searching, then celebrating? Or maybe the neighbor who gets invited to the party? Who am I in the story? Who are you in the story?

Fifty-seven years ago I was definitely not lost. I knew exactly where I was, by the shore of Spirit Lake at the foot of Mount St. Helens, only a hundred yards from the picnic table where my family was. I wasn’t lost; but I couldn’t climb the steep, sandy bank to get back. The little five-year-old boy, crying at the foot of an impossible hill, got the needed help from some nice adults. I wasn’t lost, but it was great to find my folks!

Thirty-nine years ago I definitely was lost, going deeper and deeper into the wilds of the island of Taiwan; and nobody on the train spoke English! But I knew the name of the town I was supposed to go to, and a helpful station agent led me on a wild run across town to the bus station where the bus to Keelung was almost ready to depart. It was great to find my ship and my shipmates!

Twenty-nine years ago our two-year-old disappeared in the department store. You never saw two more panicky parents. We finally found him in the center of one of those circular clothes racks, with floor-length dresses hanging down. He was having a wonderful time in there. He’d heard us calling, but he knew he wasn’t lost! Well, lost or not, it was great to find our kid!

You know, at different times in my life, it really seemed like I was lost. At different times in my life, it really seemed … like God was lost. At different times in my life it really seemed like everybody was making entirely too much fuss over someone else … who I knew was just pretending to be lost! I have even been, at different times, the neighbor called in to celebrate because somebody prayed to God and got their hangnail cured, and, you know, I resented that, too!

When I think about it, I have played, at one time or another, every role in this story. And I have not always played my role very gracefully. … I’ll bet, if you think about it, you have played every role in this story, too. … And it’s just barely possible that God … has played every role in this story: God, the treasure lost and found; God, the searcher; God, who abandoned the many to seek out the one; God, who invites the neighbors in to celebrate; God, who is abandoned by us when we go seeking some distraction. Maybe God has played every role.…

Someone has suggested another way of looking at these stories. What if I am the 99 plus the one at the same time? What if a piece of me is missing? What if the reason human beings seem to be so crippled is that we’re not all there? Someone has suggested that there is a God-shaped hole inside each of us. If this is true than I am the searcher, I am the flock left behind, and I am the missing piece, all at the same time; and I cannot celebrate, I cannot party, until I am all together, until I am whole again.

On Thursday I received an email message from Mark McCalla:

       I got lost in Walmart early this morning. I try
       to make a habit of smiling at, and
       acknowledging strangers as they pass in
       public places (like passing someone in a
       Walmart aisle). Anyhow, I was in Walmart
       early this morning, (sort of in a surly mood
       because of all the rain that [Hurricane]
       Frances had dumped upon us) shopping for
       tortillas for breakfast (don't ask), when a
       (grossly) overweight, shirtless, incredibly
       tattooed fellow, smoking a cigarette walked
       through the “Food” entrance. Its about 4 a.m.
       and no one is there to “greet”him and tell him
       to put his damn cigarette out and put on a shirt.
       He walks by me; I stop dead in my tracks, roll
       my eyes and give the guy a clear “what the
       [blankety-blank]” look. I’m sure he sensed my
       disgust. (Good! I thought to myself.) I go on to
       grab my tortillas and then check out. He ends up
       behind me in the only check out open.

       “Hey, preacher!” I turn and see his tobacco
       stained smile, “what you doing out this early?”
       Thinking to myself, “how does this guy know me?"
       I say, "Buying tortillas. How ’bout you?”

       “Got water in the basement last night,” he says
       pointing to the bottles of clorox on the conveyor. I
       pay the clerk. Still smiling he says, “y’all have a
       great day.” I turn back, smile and say, “Hey, you
       too, good luck with the basement.”

       Walking out to the car, I kind of got the feeling of
       what a sheep must feel like when a shepherd
       hooks his crook around his neck and yanks him up
       out of a ravine: startled, somewhat sore, and  yet
       grateful to have been found.

Well, I’ve never been lost in Walmart, altho I’ve wandered up and down the aisles looking for Melody. And I wasn’t lost that day by Spirit Lake, even tho the grownups thought I was. And our son wasn’t lost that day in the store, even tho his parents were going crazy looking for him.

But it just may be, in the grace of God, that the times I’ve thought I was found, were truly the times when I was really lost; and the times I thought I was lost, God knew where I was all the time. It just may be that those times I resented someone else partying were the times I should have been celebrating, too, and the times I was celebrating how great it is to be safe here in the sheepfold were actually the times I should have been out on the hillsides searching.

And maybe the shepherd is supposed to celebrate extravagantly when the single sheep is found, and maybe the woman is supposed to call the neighbors in for a party when the coin is found. Maybe that is what God is like!

After all, the end of the chapter is all about The Prodigal Father!

(Comments to Don at crestnch@televar.com.)
Creston Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), Creston, WA, USA