Looking for the Lost

Luke 15:1-10 Now the tax collectors and "sinners" were all gathering around to hear him. 2 But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, "This man welcomes sinners and eats with them." 3 Then Jesus told them this parable: 4 "Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? 5 And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders 6 and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' 7 I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent. 8 "Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Does she not light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? 9 And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.' 10 In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents."

Are there monsters in West Haven, Connecticut? One might think so from the description given. One person who has seen the beast described the sighting this way: “We walk every morning. We come down about 6:30 am and walk, and he kind of popped out of the trees over there – a big, kind of hefty-looking, hairy-looking creature.”

With such a creature at large, I’m amazed everyone isn’t moving out of West Haven.

Oh, maybe I should tell you this: the dangerous beastie is … a rooster. A rooster who crows in the morning. A rooster who sometimes chases people. A rooster, who has, at least so far, managed to elude the Animal Control officers.

And just how did a rooster take up residence in New Haven? The answer is simple – no one knows. One of the local residents said, “There’s no farms (around here), so he’s certainly not wandering around unless somebody had one (a rooster) and dropped him off or didn’t want him anymore.”

So like the single sheep, the rooster is alone. His previous owner dumped him; his new neighbors aren’t overly pleased at having him. That’s why they’re trying to catch him and ship away to a safe place or any place other than West Haven, Connecticut.

Most of us have, at one time or another, believed people have felt that way about us. We feel unloved, unwanted, unappreciated. Alone, apart, abandoned. We’re pretty sure that if the earth opened up and swallowed us, nobody would notice.

If that’s the way you’ve felt or feel, I’ve got some good news for you. God notices and God most definitely cares. So that you will never be alone, so tht you will never be completely unappreciated, so that you might be forgiven and saved – Jesus comes and searches for you. Some people might not like us all that much, but Jesus loves us. And that’s something to crow about. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)

God searches for every lost sheep, every lost coin, every lost soul. He never resigns Himself to accept the loss and just move on. He never thinks 9 out of 10 or 99 out of 100 is good enough. He doesn’t believe in “acceptable losses.” He considers no price too high to pay in order to save us from the brokenness of our sin and restore us anew with His forgiveness.

There were some in Jesus’ day who recognized this and came “flocking” to Him. The tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to Jesus and when that happened, Jesus was delighted. He would look at such people and see that they were harrassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd (Matthew 9:36). And He had come to help them. Not by approving of their sin, but by taking it away, by setting them free from their bondage to sin and giving them a new life to live. A life of hope, a life of faith. All by being their Good Shepherd.

But many of the religious leaders in Jesus’ day did not understand this kind of grace. Sadly, many Christians in our day do not truly understand the grace of their Good Shepherd. They look down their noses at the unwed mother, think poorly of the divorced dad, are afraid of the convict, disown the addicted son or abandon the homosexual child.

And they want a God who acts more like we act! Or at least more like we think our God should act. We want our God to be an awesome God, who reigns from above. Sitting on His throne, surrounded by angels doing His bidding. Always watching, waiting, with judgment on His lips and lightning bolts in His hands. Unmatched in holiness and power, majestic and inspiring. That’s the kind of God we want. A God we can be proud of and who is proud of us. An attractive God. A glamorous God. A God of holy people doing holy things.

But that’s not the kind of God Jesus describes, is it? This is a God who is like a man scrambling around in the arid Palestinian wilderness, desperately searching for one lost sheep. This is a God who is like a pitiful woman on her hands and knees, scraping the dirt floor of her home, grubbing around for an insignificant coin. Isn’t that beneath God? Isn’t God acting rather desperately, irrationally, shamefully?

And so the scribes and Pharisees criticized Jesus when they saw Him acting like that – “welcoming sinners and eating with them” (Luke 15:2). He may claim to be God or a prophet from God, but if He was, He wouldn’t be grubbing around like that, with tax collectors and prostitutes! That’s like the President joining the grass mowing crew in front of the the White House, with big ol’ baggy shorts and black socks with his sneakers! Or like the Pope sweeping St. Peter’s Square after Easter services. It’s just not done. Oh, maybe for a “photo op,” but not really. That’s beneath them. That’s beneath God and His holiness, isn’t it?

Well, apparently not! For God came into our world literally on His hands and knees, as a baby, crawling to find you. He came to search for those stiff-necked people in the wilderness (Exodus 32:9). He came for those “overwhelmed by excessive sorrow” (2 Corinthians 5:7). He came for the chief of sinners and shed His blood for me” (CW: 385).

And the truth is – we need Him to come looking for us. For we are dying – dying of hate as much we are of cancer. We are dying of despair as much as by disease. We are dying of the stubborn, self-righteous pride that threatens us as much as any murderer’s bullets or terrorist’s bombs.

Think about who we really are. We are people who are worse, far worse, than simply a coin that becomes lost through no fault of its own. We are ones who have left our Savior willingly, following the sinful desires of our hearts and delighting in our sin. We are people who are worse, far worse than simply a dumb sheep who has innocently wandered off, seductively lured away by the promise of a greener pasture. We are ones who have deliberately turned our back on the Good Shepherd, choosing instead to go where we know we should not go; to do what we know we should not do; to speak what we know we should not speak; to think what we know we should not think; to desire what we know we should not desire; to touch what we know we should not touch; to see what we know we should not see. We are the worst of sinners; the chief of sinners.

When God sees us worshiping false gods of money and success; when He sees us bowing down to golden calves fashioned out of premarital sex and alcoholic binges; when He sees us glorifying the idols of Sunday sporting events and kids’ athletics; He has every right to say, “Now leave me alone so that my anger may burn against them and that I may destroy them” (Exodus 32:10).

And so we couldn’t blame God for being just a little bit angry. Angry at us ungrateful, sin-worshiping people. Angry on His heavenly throne with judgment on His lips and lightning bolts in His hands. And yet where is He? He is here, calling us back to Himself. He is here, in His Word and Sacrament, surrounded by sinners. Sinners in the community, sinners in the pews, and the sinner in this pulpit. He is not here in judgment, but in mercy. He is not here with lightning bolts, but blood in His hands. Not here with anger, but with grace.

He invites you to come near to Him each worship service, so He may draw near to You. He washes you in His water of new life. He feeds and strengthens you by His body and blood. He restores you with His forgiveness, binds up your wounds and heals you, guides and teaches you by His Word. Not letting you go until He blesses you with His nail-scarred hands.

And there is nothing that your Shepherd would rather be doing, and no place He’d rather be, than here for you and caring for you. Not because you’re good, but because He is. And not because you’re loveable, but because He is love.

It is a love that we beg for, crave, and sing about. In our confession:“Lord, have mercy”; in our communion liturgy: “Lamb of God, have mercy on us”; in our psalm: “God have mercy on me, a sinner.” For without His mercy, we are nothing. Without His mercy, we will be destroyed. “Lord, have mercy” is the prayer of the lost, repentant sinner; a prayer of the sinner who has nothing and must depend and rely on God for everything. A God who looks for the lost. A God who celebrates over the repentant sinner. A merciful God.

There are some things I'd like to hear, but I'm afraid I never will. From my car mechanic I would like to hear him say, “The quote I gave you is way too high; I was able to do the job for $200 less than I thought.” From a policeman I'd like to hear, “You know, I'll bet my radar gun is probably off. I don't think you were speeding after all.” From a store clerk I'd like to hear, “Don't worry about the ‘next lane, please’ sign. I'll take my break right after I finish ringing up your purchase.”

Nope, no matter how much I wish for it, I doubt I'll ever hear anybody say those things.

In contrast to the things people will never say to me, stands God who continues to surprise me by the wonderful things He tells me. When I feel unloved, He tells me He cares. When I feel alone, He reminds me He is by my side. When I'm feeling too weak to go on, He gives me strength. When I am blind, He makes me see. When I see myself as a sinner, He assures me He has made me into His saint.

Most importantly, I have a Savior who tells me He has come to seek and save the lost. All of us were once in that “lost” category, you know. But no longer. Because of the Savior's life, suffering, death, and resurrection; because of the Holy Spirit's call, we have been moved. No longer lost, we are found … found and forgiven, found and free to serve, found and empowered to tell others of Jesus who says what we need to hear.

Though I doubt I may hear certain things from certain people, I get to hear every Sunday words that I love to hear, words I need to hear, words like: forgiven, redeemed, saved, atoning sacrifice, restored, mercy, grace, loved, peace, and today I hear once again that beautiful, but simple word … found. Amen.

17th Sunday after Pentecost at Epiphany on September 21, 2010