14th Sunday after Pentecost

I can remember the first time that I was lost. I must have been about 4 years old. We were vacationing in Sea Isle City, NJ. But Sea Isle City was a comparatively small town and my parents wanted us to see a big boardwalk, so they took us up to Ocean City. My two older sisters (aged 6 & 8) and I were mesmerized. We had never seen anything like it in the world. Not when you grew up outside of Selinsgrove, PA (population 2,500 although it felt more like twelve). It was amazing! The shop windows! Filled with all kinds of treasures!! Or, as my mother called it, Junk.

There was one window by which I was particularly taken. It was a toy store! Now understand; we didn’t have a toy store in Selinsgrove. We didn’t even have a toy store in Sunbury, which was the next closest town that had actual department stores. All we had was the toy department at the Woolworth’s in Sunbury, and the only time we would go there was for special occasions, like shopping for birthday presents or before Christmas. So to see an entire store devoted to nothing but toys… It was Nirvana, as far as I was concerned. Nirvana, Heaven, Valhalla, Mecca, and satori all wrapped up into one shining, gleaming package. And there it was, right in front of me. And the harbinger of all the earthly delights that awaited me within the walls of this sanctuary of leisure and enjoyment? The largest stuffed Snoopy I had ever laid eyes on, smiling down at me. It was easily three feet tall, literally larger than life. It was larger than me, for that matter! I simply stood there, transfixed.

Unfortunately, my parents didn’t realize it. I turned to say something to them, about wanting to go inside… But there was nobody there. At least, not anyone I recognized. Given my age and my lack of height, all I could see was a sea of legs. I’m not sure I’d had any instruction yet in what to do if you become lost, but I stayed right where I was. There was no danger of my wandering off, because I was stuck to that precise spot by the power of pure unadulterated fear. Even then, at the tender age of four, the Deibler-bred propensity for worry began expressing itself. What if they didn’t realize I was missing? What if they didn’t come back? What if they did come back but couldn’t find me? What if, what if, what if… My heart was racing, my breathing was shallow, I was craning my neck, left and right to try and see my parents, (and admittedly occasionally turning back to the store window to see the visage of the giant Snoopy, smiling at me… mockingly.) After what seemed like forever, suddenly my parents emerged from the crowd, my two older sisters in tow.

In all honestly, it was probably only a matter of seconds. But those seconds stretched into eternity. My parents expressed happiness, concern, and admonition. I’m sure that one of my sisters said that I was stupid for getting lost. And I felt relief as my fear slipped away. Connected as I was, once again, with my family.

Being lost is such a powerful metaphor or analogy. Remember “The Lost World”? “Lost in Space”? “Land of the Lost”? (Cheesy, yes, but a part of my childhood none the less). There was even an entire (and very successful) TV series that bore the name “Lost”. Nobody likes being lost.

But what if you’re lost and don’t even know it? The Gospel lesson for today shows us two different things. On the one hand, it shows us the depth of God’s passionate undying love for us. On the other hand, it shows us what it means to be lost; what it means to be separated from that life giving, life affirming, life changing love.

These parables are about lost-ness. Of course, at first everything seems to revolve around the distinction between sinner and righteous. Luke sets the context for Jesus telling three of his better-known parables. First, the tax collectors and sinners are flocking to listen to Jesus. Second, the Pharisees and scribes are grumbling because he not only doesn’t send them away but actually eats with them. Let’s remember that in Jesus’ day eating – sharing table fellowship – is a sign of acceptance and friendship. So, by eating with tax collectors and sinners, Jesus is demonstrating a deep and abiding acceptance of those, whom society has deemed to be immoral. And while we’re used to thinking “we’re all sinners,” that’s not the way Luke sees it; that’s not his worldview. When he describes someone as a “sinner” he’s talking about someone whose pattern of sinning is so habitual, that its second nature. The whole community knows about it. By “righteous”, then, Luke doesn’t mean those who are either perfect or self-righteous, but those who actually and actively try to live up to the law. All of which means that Jesus is welcoming the local untouchables, the moral disgraces and public outcasts -- welcoming, accepting, and befriending. And the decent folk are concerned, shall we say.

And Jesus tells some stories. But they’re not stories about the difference between sinner and righteous. They’re about things we lose -- a sheep, a coin, a son -- and the joy we experience when we find these things again. What’s pivotal in these stories is the reaction of the shepherd and the woman. “Which of you,” Jesus begins each story, implying that their behavior is normal. But is it?

In the first case, a shepherd searches for a lost sheep. OK, sure. That’s the shepherd’s job, after all. But to do it he puts 99 sheep at risk, leaving them in the wilderness with no protection or shelter, in order to look for the one that was lost. And when he finds the lost sheep, he hustles the whole flock home and calls his friends and neighbors to join in his celebration. Is that normal? Is that typical? Could you see the Marlboro Man doing that? I don’t think so.

In the second case, a woman who loses a tenth of her wealth lights her lamp and sweeps all night searching for the coin. Now that makes sense. But then, when she finds it, she also calls together her neighbors and invites them to celebrate which means that she provides food and drink, maybe even spending as much on the celebration as she recovered from her search. Is that normal? Is that typical? No!

Which, of course, is the point. This kind of ridiculous celebration is what characterizes God’s passionate response to sinners who repent. Now remember that the Greek word that we translate as “repentance” is the word “metanoia” which doesn’t so much mean feeling sorry for something as it does a turning around, a change in perspective, a recognition, to bring us full circle, of being lost and a corresponding desire to turn around and be found.

So: can you be righteous and still be lost? Can you be lost and not even know it?

I think you can, and I think we are. I’m guessing that most of us, not all of course, but most – are probably more like the righteous in these stories than the sinners. Most of us try very hard to be good Christians and to do the right thing. And no amount of convincing us we’re really filthy sinners and then assuring us that God forgives us anyway is going to make much of a difference to our self-understanding or our behavior.

But that doesn’t mean we can’t be lost. Could the parents who want their children to succeed so much that they wrap their whole lives around hockey games and dance recitals be lost? What about the career-focused man or woman who has made moving up the ladder the one and only priority? What about folks who work slavishly at jobs they hate just to give their family things they never had? What about the retiree who has a great pension plan but little sense of meaning since retiring? What about the young person who works so hard to be perfect and who is willing to do just about anything to fit in? Could it be that the earnest Christian who is constantly asking whether people have accepted Jesus into their hearts is lost?

There are lots of people who seem to have it all together and yet, deep down, are just plain lost, even pastors. I was lost after we got back from vacation…

I did not necessarily come into the office, on my first day back, with a spring in my step and a song in my heart. Because this is a hard job. And there’s still a lot of free-floating anxiety regarding the Church as a whole, and Calvary and Zion in particular. Where exactly will we end up? How are things going to look in another year? Another two years? And this is a hard job. And I was tired. And I didn’t want to come back to work… because I was lost. But then a couple a couple of pastoral conversations with people from the congregation reminded me that it’s not about the job. And it’s not about me. It’s about what God is doing in the lives of others.

It’s not that there’s anything inherently wrong with being righteous. Working hard, doing your best, showing up for church on time, these are all good things. But ultimately, they only scratch the surface of who we are and what we need and hope for.

To put it another way, describing ourselves primarily in terms of whether we’re sinner or righteous is a legal designation that, in the end, defines us by what we have done. Understanding ourselves as lost, on the other hand – and ultimately as being found – is a much more existential and relational way of understanding who we are. And God, finally, is there to grant us an identity beyond what we have done.

Having it all together is great. But we may still feel quite lost at times. The church is a place for all those who feel lost, sinner and righteous alike. It’s a place where we can admit our lost-ness, to confess our hopes and fears, our dreams and disappointments to God. And we can be confident that when we turn toward God for any reason, God throws one heck of a party and invites all the angels to celebrate. But in the end, this parable isn’t ultimately about sinner or righteous and not even about being lost and found. It’s about a God so crazy in love with God’s children that He will do anything to find them. To find us.

Which of you, Jesus asks, would go to such lengths to search and find and then welcome back and celebrate? Truth be told, probably none of us. But God would. In fact, God does, even now, putting everything at risk to seek us out, lighting a lamp and sweeping, sweeping, sweeping until we are all caught up in God’s mercy, grace, and love. Thanks be to God.   AMEN