Epiphany 2 B: Lost and Found
Dear Partner in Preaching,
There’s a lot of “finding” in John’s quirky account of the calling of Jesus’ disciples. Jesus finds Philip. Philip finds Nathaniel. Philip then tells Nathaniel that they have found Jesus. And then Nathaniel finds (although the word isn’t used here) that Jesus knows a lot more about him than he’d imagined.
This has all gotten me to thinking that one of the best feelings in the world is when you are found. Do you know what I mean? Maybe it’s the delight of the child playing hide and seek who, though having put some thought and effort into his or her hiding place, is nevertheless so very happy to be found. Or maybe it’s that time you were out for a hike and got lost and had absolutely no idea where you were, not even what direction you were going in, wondered how in the world you’d make it back to the main trail or road, and then you saw a trail marker. Or maybe it’s not a geographical lost-ness, but an emotional or existential sense of being out of place. A young adult lost to addiction who finds help, a friend lost to depression who finds a measure of solace in a new relationship, a parent lost to dementia who still lights up when you hit upon particular memories that tucked deep inside. Yes, there are few things that feel better than being found when you are lost.
Except, perhaps, when you are the one who finds someone who is lost…. even, and maybe especially, if they didn’t know they were lost in the first place.
Less than a year after we moved to Minnesota, I finally ventured out to the Mall of America with my then-three year-old son so we could wander around the indoor amusement park on a cold winter day. We went from attraction to attraction, almost all of which Jack was too small to ride. And he didn’t care. He was fascinated by all of it and content to take in the sights and sounds. We tarried by the remote-control boats, as Jack loved anything motorized and anything on water, which meant this attraction was doubly intriguing. I was holding his hand, of course, and then I wasn’t, for just a moment, except that when I looked down to retrieve his hand he was gone. I did a quick 360 to scan the surrounding area, peeking in between various people to see where he might have gone, but he was nowhere to be found. I then began, a little more frantically, to widen my search. Still, nothing. Panic coursed through me as I remembered all I’d heard about how long it took someone to abduct a child from a public place. I began to call his name. No response. I then went to security and they set into motion a search that turned up Jack in what felt like an hour but was probably less than 10 minutes. He’d wandered to attraction not that far away, worming his little three-year-old self to the front of a group of other people waiting in line. When I to scooped him up into my arms, I realized immediately that he’d been blissfully watching… I can’t even remember what. He certainly didn’t feel lost, had no idea what all the fuss what about, let alone the panic he had caused me. That feeling – of finding my son who had been lost – was about the best feeling I’d experienced. Of relief, of love, of wholeness, of confidence that the world was a good and safe place.
There is, right now, a lot of lost-ness in our congregations, country, and world. And perhaps good reason for that: pandemic, rampant injustice, intense division, a readiness to resort to violence to achieve dubious ends, a disregard not just for facts but verifiable reality. Yes, lots of lost-ness. And, truthfully, I find it frustrating, even maddening. Yet this passage also reminds me that God seems to have a heart for the lost, for the irresponsible, self-absorbed, and reckless younger-siblings and the rule-following, rigid, and self-righteous older ones alike. Which includes people I get mad at, and people who get mad at me, and it even includes me when I am lost, whether I know it or not.
I don’t know what you may do with all this or, more importantly, this quirky story from John. But for just now, Dear Partner, I’m grateful that one of the promises tucked into this passage is that God keeps seeking us – all of us – whether we know we’re lost or not, or even whether we think we’re looking for God or not. God seeks the lost, continually looking, searching, finding, and then ultimately and always inviting, “Come and see!”
Thanks for your good work, Dear Partner, as in these turbulent times you keep sharing the good news of the God who will not give up, who sheds glory to take on our lot and life, to journeys even to the cross to show us just how far God will go to seek out the lost and tell us we are loved. Blessings on your proclamation this week and always.
Yours in Christ,
David
Sheesh, I could literally feel what you wrote.
I struggle with feeling done with entire swaths of the human population. The idea of God still sending out search parties and APBs is powerful.
LOVE this! Thank you for your inspiring writings!