Know, My Name Is Lost

In a country of over 294 million people, it stands to reason that a few of them would get misplaced now and then. The FBI alone maintains approximately 800,000 missing person files. To put that number in perspective, imagine that there wasn’t one single soul in all of Chautauqua County. Then imagine five counties of the same size, all deserted. It’s a mind-boggling exercise. My calculator tells me that, on average, 1 person out of every 400 goes missing.

But the loss isn’t really something that you measure by numbers, because how could you ever count the tears shed or the number of sleepless nights experienced by anguished families, desperate for a glimpse of a loved one who has, for all intents and purposes, simply vanished? Missing persons. There’s something about the very nature of that kind of loss with which we can all empathize.

A month ago very few people in Jamestown had ever heard the name Yolanda Bindics, but she’s on all our minds very much these days. Our thoughts and prayers go out to her and her children. Even the most cynical among us hope that our darkest suspicions or fears will be proven wrong, that the whole thing will turn out to be some simple misunderstanding. Imagine the joy that would spill over this town.

Can it really be true that 800,000 people are nowhere to be found? And if it’s really possible that children, mothers, brothers and friends from anywhere can go missing, is it possible that I can be lost?

The religious elite thought Jesus had lost his mind. It was the only explanation for what they saw before them. Yesterday Jesus had been a guest at their banquet—didn’t that ignorant carpenter realize what an honor it was to be among great teachers and philosophers? Apparently not, because he had behaved like an ill-mannered oaf. And now just look at the winners he’s having dinner with tonight…

Now the tax collectors and "sinners" were all gathering around to hear him. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, "This man welcomes sinners and eats with them." (Luke 15: 1 – 2)

Good religious people would have never been seen with the motley crew that had assembled around Jesus, let alone eat with them! A tax-collector was a traitor, after all. And sinners weren’t just guilty of breaking the moral law—they had no regard whatsoever for ritual purity either. If you risked sharing a corner booth at Applebee’s with this bunch of lowlifes, chances are you’d end up consuming some “untithed food.” To the Pharisees, Jesus was doing something completely irresponsible for someone who claimed to be so godly: by sharing a table with those kinds of people, he was demonstrating that he accepted them. And that was a crazy thing to imply—there was even a popular saying in those days that went there will be joy in heaven over one sinner who is obliterated before God.

In response to their grumblings, Jesus sets down his cheeseburger and tells them a few stories about things that are lost and things that are found.

Then Jesus told them this parable: "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? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' 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. (Luke 15: 3 – 7)

Some parables are easier to figure out than others. This is one of the easy ones. The Shepherd is God, the lost sheep is a person who has a spiritual awakening, and the friends and neighbors are God’s people. But don’t let the parable’s simplicity throw you—this short little story conveyed a Copernican shift in the understanding of God’s nature to the people listening.

Even if the religious elite bickered about just what exactly constituted repentance, they did have a concept of God’s forgiveness for the repentant. But Jesus talked about a God who wasn’t content to sit around and wait for the repentant to come groveling to him—he diligently sought out the lost to bring them into his kingdom! Just in case they don’t get it, he takes a swig of Mountain Dew and then sort of repeats himself:

"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? And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.' In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” (Luke 15: 8 – 10)

It makes perfect sense that a poor woman is going to look for some misplaced money, just as it’s easy to comprehend why a shepherd would search for a helpless lamb. But the most religious people of all were completely perplexed as to why Jesus would break bread with some people who had become lost in the shuffle of life. The Pharisees’ piousness had become a barrier that separated them from the very people who were in the most desperate need of finding God.

There are as many different ways of being lost as there are people. Just like a sheep, some people wander away through simple ignorance. Others are like the coin that goes astray through the carelessness of others. But in the end it doesn’t really matter where a person went adrift or what the circumstances were that set them upon that course. What’s important is that God hasn’t given up on them.

A flock isn’t whole when there’s even one sheep missing. A person isn’t financially secure when she’s missing a coin. And God’s kingdom isn’t complete while there are still missing persons.