Jesus loved to tell stories

“The Loss of One Sheep”

The Reverend Barbara K. Briggs

September 16, 2007

The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 19, Year C

Jesus loved to tell stories. In our own day story-telling is a way to remain connected to one another and weave a common history together. It is what we do every time we gather at the Lord’s table. Not only do we hear again the story of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection, but we enter into it through our own participation in this ritual action called Eucharist. We hear of how Jesus offers us himself at a meal. We, in turn, respond to this gift not only by coming to receive, but to offer ourselves to him in return. We enter the story. Through grace, we embody it as a people. We get a taste of the kingdom. We carry the kingdom within us wherever we go.

Following Jesus’ example, I’d like to tell a few stories. Maybe they’ll shed a little light on the lessons we just heard.

Some of you know I have a four year-old son named Caleb. He has a piggy bank full of change. Most of the coins are pennies. One day he decided the pennies needed a wash. He filled the bathroom sink with soapy water and dumped them in. He sloshed them around for awhile and then decided they were clean enough and pulled the plug. I had just enough time to stop most of the pennies from going down the drain by pulling the stopper back in place, but one or two of them escaped, and down they went. After we had extracted the remaining pennies from the sink and let the water out, Caleb asked me how we were going to get the one we lost out of the pipes.

“It might be trapped in that u-shaped thing,” I said. “Where?” he wanted to know. “That pipe right there,” I said, pointing under the sink. “OK,” he said, “Can you get it out, please?” “No, sweetie, Mummy doesn’t know how to do that. We’d have to call a plumber.” “OK,” he said, “Let’s call a plumber”.

It is hard to explain to a four-year old who has just lost one of his treasures that it isn’t worth spending seventy dollars for a plumber to come retrieve a few pennies out of a drain. I thought perhaps he might forget about it: it’s just a penny or two, and he has a piggy-bank full of other ones, but the other night he asked me about it again. He knows those lost pennies might be there, and doesn’t understand why Mommy won’t go to extraordinary measures to find them and get them back with the other pennies in his bank. Like Jesus, he doesn’t use the rules of economics.

The Gospel story of the lost sheep is a kingdom story. Business sense is not Kingdom sense. In God’s kingdom, there is no budget: no expense is too costly when it is spent on seeking out and finding that which is lost. In God’s budget, it’s always worth going after one of God’s own. The loss of one sheep breaks the shepherd’s heart, so the shepherd searches until he finds the sheep.

One day when I was in particular need of a quiet space, I stepped into a down-town church to pray. As I entered, the smell of cigarette smoke made me wonder what was going on. Was there a work team in there? But the place was quiet and seemingly empty, so I proceeded to a pew near the front, intending to kneel. But when I arrived, I caught a glimpse of something moving along to my right. I stopped, and turned. Where there had been no one before was now standing a woman with her back against the wall. Why was she staring at me? I had three choices. 1) I could kneel there and pray anyway. 2) I could go talk to her. 3) I could leave. Well, number one was out of the question: I could not pray with her there looking at me. So, I chose number three, but when I was half-way down the aisle, I changed my mind and went to talk to her.

“Why are you talking to me?” she asked. I admitted I didn’t know, but that it seemed to me that she might have wanted to, since she was standing there looking at me. We talked for two hours. We talked about life, deception, hardship, disappointment, hope, poetry, ants, beetles and bumble bees. She told me that the hardest part of being homeless was that when you have sunk this low, there is no one left to go with you – no one with whom to share the journey – no one with whom to talk. She felt invisible to society – lost. For a few hours we found each other. It was only a relatively short time, but I will never forget her.

For God, there is joy in finding that which was lost.

The reading from Jeremiah is hard to hear. We hear, “my people are foolish, they do not know me; they are stupid children, they have no understanding. They are skilled in doing evil, but do not know how to do good.” In this reading, God is angry that the people have forgotten the covenant and turned away from God and God’s ways. But then we hear in Paul’s letter to Timothy: “The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners – of whom I am the foremost.” Without this reassurance, we might be tempted to judge ourselves or one another harshly and be afraid of God and of one another. But God has another way of looking at things: for God there is joy in finding that which is lost.

If we are not completely lost and not living lives of notorious sin, will Jesus come looking for us, too? What if we are only marginal sinners? What if things are only slightly out of balance? Will Jesus come to find us and bring us back into the fold? What if we try really hard to be good and do the right thing? Will God seek us out?

Well, the fact is that statistically, at any given time, twenty-five percent of us here today are dealing with major life issues of survival, grief, sickness, depression, loss or anxiety. At least a part of us feels lost. At times like these, we can be sure that God is actively seeking us out and will not stop until God has found us, and when God does, there is much joy. As for the rest of us, Jesus is standing at the door of our hearts, waiting to be let in. God is constantly seeking us out, inviting us to come as close to God as God comes to us. And if we can’t get there, God will come and pick us up, carrying us like a shepherd carrying the sheep.

So, the theme of these stories is not only about pursuing those who are lost, but also the invitation to join in the joy and celebration at finding them. Sometimes we are the lost sheep. Sometimes we are the 99 others, and sometimes we are the ones doing the seeking. Isn’t that what we’re doing here this morning – rejoicing together that we are lost and found; found by God? If there are any among us who doubt that God is seeking us out and finding us, it helps to know that God doesn’t stop seeking until God finds. When God finds us, there is joy, and joy is meant to be shared. That is the good news. That is kingdom living. That is what we are all about around here, no matter who we are. Amen.