Pentecost 17 C: Joy!
Dear Partner in Preaching,
I apologize for the late post. It’s been one of those weeks! So here’s what I’ve got. Actually, two things.
First, this story is about joy. We understandably focus on issues of being lost, of being found, of the Pharisees and scribes displeasure, of avoiding judgment, and so forth. But what we often miss is the common denominator of both these stories is joy. “Just so, there will be more joy in heaven….” Repeat twice.
And here’s the thing: I get that.
Shortly after we’d moved to Minnesota, I took my then four year-old son out to the Mall of America, an enclosed shopping center so large it had an amusement park at its center. Which is where, of course, Jack wanted to go. So we did, wandering the park, looking at the various rides, and eventually ending up at one of those open tracks where you can drive little remote-control cars. Jack was too little to operate one, but he was fascinated watching them. Initially I was holding his hand, as I almost always did, but after a few moments I let it go, as he was right beside me and pretty much glued to his spot. Until he wasn’t. I looked down for him, as I did every few seconds, and he was gone. Not there. Missing.
I frantically looked all around our area and couldn’t find him. I began cautiously expanding my search, sure I would find him any moment. But I didn’t. Initially I was anxious, after a few moments, scared. I’d heard the stories. Every parent has. How it only takes a few minutes for someone to abduct a child and get him or her completely out of a store. After a few more minutes of frantically searching, I went to a security guard and admitted what had happened: my son was lost. Lost.
I gave a description, the guard called it in. Within about three minutes – that seemed far, far longer – they had found him. He had wondered over to another ride, used his height – or, rather, lack of height – to worm his way to the front, and was glued to that spot watching in fascination, pretty much totally oblivious, I’m sure, that he’d just caused me a near heart attack.
I suppose I could have been mad at him for wandering off, or upset with myself for letting him, or embarrassed that I’d recruited security guards when he was so close to me all along. I’d understand if that’s what another parent felt. But to be honest, none of these emotions were mine. No, I was just relieved and, even more, joyful. My son, who had been lost, was found. Safe and sound. Back with me. It was pure joy.
And that’s how God feels anytime anyone is drawn back into relationship with God, or chooses life, or lives into his or her potential, or helps out another, and in all these ways is found. Joy. Pure joy.
The Pharisees and scribes don’t get that. They don’t realize that God is primarily about love, rather than rules, and therefore about joy, rather than anger or fear or impatience, or all the other things it’s easy to imagine God is about. So what would it be like, I wonder, if we decided to invite our congregations to places about joy, all about joy, anytime one of God’s children discovers the abundant life God hopse for all of us? I think it would be pretty cool.
Okay, one more observation, briefly. As I mentioned, earlier, when we focus on lostness, for lack of a better word, we miss the joyful character of these stories and of God. But we also might miss that in both stories, there’s far less attention on what’s been lost than on the one who is searching. I mean, these stories aren’t about a lost sheep or coin, not really. They’re about a shepherd who risks everything to go look, and about a woman who sweeps all night long to find. These stories are about a God who will always go looking for God’s lost children, even more fervently than I went looking for Jack.
More than that, though, when you think how ordinary were the persons representing God – a shepherd who stands at the very bottom of the socio-economic ladder in first-century Palestine, a woman with only ten silver coins to her name – you realize that maybe these aren’t just metaphors, but rather that they are reminders that God often works through ordinary people to do the extraordinary work of helping to find someone.
On September 11, 2001 – fifteen years ago this Sunday – Welles Crowther went to work like every other day to his job as an equities trader in the World Trade Center. After the second tower was hit, the one he was in, Welles led everyone he could find down the steps to safety, and then he went back for more. And after leading more people to safety, he went back again, and again, and again, until the tower collapsed. On that day, this talented, athletic, good natured, but in so many ways ordinary person did an extraordinary thing, giving his life to make sure others could live. On that day, God used Welles Crowther to find people who were lost.
I know we won’t often find ourselves in those kinds of circumstances, yet God can also use us to find others. Not only can God uses us, but God does, and will. At work, at home, at school, through our congregations, in our places of volunteering, God regularly uses us to find others.
So another question, what if our congregations were places of joy where we heard that God was regularly about using ordinary people like us to find others in order to create even more joy. Again, I think that would be cool. More than cool, awesome. Or maybe even better – if we could do that, I guarantee you that there would be joy in heaven, more even than we can imagine.
Thanks for your good work, Dear Partner, your words announce God’s joyful character, promise that God will use us, and in this way create saving faith. Blessings on your proclamation.
Yours in Christ,
David
This time when I read the text I hear of things congregations have lost….the lost coin of steady and growing membership, the lost coin of communication, the lost coin of vibrancy, the lost coin of a parish family that works together, the lost sheep of respect, …….and the the coin of newness, the coin of vibrancy, the coin of new volunteers,new members, new mission….and the joy that that brings a congregation. Look into the empty eyes of those without vision, and then look into the eyes of those who have seen Jesus- and their is more joy in heaven, over one encounter with our lord than one can imagine.
Thanks for the focus on joy in being found by God who is always looking for us to come back into relationship.
Another aspect of these parables that you haven’t touched on is the fact that the rejoicing done by the finders is unusual and unexpected. The shepherd wouldn’t leave the 99, and neither of them would throw a party over their finding. What’s unusual is the picture of God that emerges from Jesus’ story. Not only that God’s glad when one is found, but that God is exuberantly and unusually joyful.