Luke 15:1-10�

My son Eric is now a mature young man of almost 12 years, and he has consented to my sharing this story with you. When he was just a wee lad, one of his favorite movies was Toy Story.

In that movie is the character Woody, who, for a long time, was Eric's favorite. On one of our trips to the Disney store, we came home with a Woody doll, and it quickly became Eric's near constant companion, being dragged around by the hand, boot, or draw string. When we went with Eric up to bed, and we were not on the ball having Woody in hand, we were sure to hear “Where's

Woody?” When we were headed out the door, often came the question, “Woody go with us?” If you sat with us at the table during a meal, you would very often get the feeling that you were being watched. “Woody watch!” was heard before many of the goings on in our house. Do you get the idea? Woody was Eric's friend, the first toy he really connected with. He loved Woody.�

I remember one time when we faced a serious crisis after an evening church meeting. As I walked in the nursery after the meeting to pick up our kids, children and adults were moving about quickly, looking here and there and everywhere. Something was wrong. I was beginning to wonder what the source of concern might be, when one of the adults looked at me and exclaimed, “We lost Woody!” You may think that this is a joke, but when I heard that Woody was missing in action, I definitely did not feel like laughing.�

When we couldn't find him after about 10 minutes of looking everywhere, I began to picture in my mind the ride home and bedtime without Woody. After having five or six adults and children look in seemingly every corner, I was ready to throw in the towel, but Eric was not. For me, it made more sense to go home and go to bed. It was already late. But for Eric, leaving was not an option he cared to entertain. Lost was not acceptable. For Eric, his world wouldn't be right without Woody. This situation was much like the parables we hear this morning.�

In the first parable, the one about the lost sheep, the shepherd makes the irrational decision to leave ninety nine sheep in the wilderness, at risk, to find the one that was lost. This shepherd did not have a head for business. This shepherd does not bother taking out his calculator to consider that he shouldn't risk ninety nine to save one. Logic is not his strong point. In the mind and heart of this shepherd is only the desire to find the one who is lost, only the desire to make his herd whole again, foolish though it may seem.�

In the second parable involving the lost coin, the woman keeps looking and sweeping, sweeping and looking until she finds the coin. She does not stop to save oil in the lamp. She doesn't wait until there is more light. She doesn't take breaks to have a cup of coffee or hot chocolate. She doesn't figure the lost coin will turn up at some point. She keeps at it, and at it, and at it, until the coin is found.�

Note in the first parable that the sheep does nothing to be found, and the coin in the second cannot do anything to be found. But these parables are less about them than they are about the seeker, that is to say, these stories unveil for us something very profound about the seeker. The seeker, of course, is God. These stories give us a glimpse into the heart of the irrational God who risks all to find his one lost sheep. These stories give us peek into the heart of the stubborn God who never stops until she finds her lost coin. This illogical and persistent God is our God.�

I don't know about you, but having myself been lost, having wandered off on my own so many times, I am glad that I belong to this irrational and stubborn God. I am glad that God has not made the very rational decision to let me go my way, deciding to concentrate on the smarter, more gifted sheep who stick with the flock. I am relieved that when I find myself covered with dust and dog hair under the bed behind the shirt that didn't make it into the laundry basket, that God does not give up sweeping and looking until I am safely back in the purse.�

These parables both end mentioning repentance. We normally define as something we have to do, but these parables seem to suggest that repentance has less to do with climbing a ladder of sorrow and regret toward God, and more to do with the joy of being discovered by a searching God.¹ And not one time only, but each time we go astray.�

(¹ This wording comes from John R Donahue, SJ, "Look in Lost and Found," America: The National Catholic Weekly, 2001.)�

Maybe this leads us to the good news for this morning: that underneath it all, faith and new life is ultimately not dependent upon what we do. Being found depends fundamentally upon what God has already done and continues to do on our behalf.�

This God, upon whom everything depends, will not be sidetracked until the herd is whole. Lost is not acceptable. This God will never quit nor rest until every last sheep bleats contentedly next to his or her neighbor. God is looking for us, and as it says in Isaiah 55: �

“so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.”�

I don't know about you, but I am glad that I belong to this God.�

Practically, I believe that this truth shapes our spiritual life. I believe that everything we do, all of our activity, all of our ministry, all of our work is rooted in the truth that God has first done everything for us. In bible study we've been working through Philippines and the apostle Paul eloquently shares how he strives, he pursues, he runs to receive the prize, but this striving is not to earn God's favor, or attain eternal life, it is because God has already embraced him and continues to call him forward, I am, he writes “reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me (Phil 3:12).”�

This truth is easy to forget. This is why I believe that God has given us the gift of Sabbath, that regular break God teaches us to take, is founded upon this truth. Once a week, and even better, once a day, stop, take a breath, and remember that God is looking for you. Take a break from all of your responsibilities, all of your burdens, and listen for God's voice, “I am looking for you, and I won't rest, until I find you. Rest from all the things you feel you need to control. “These things are in my hands.” Don't worry about the loved ones you feel have gone astray. “I am looking for them, and I won't rest until I find them.” This is freedom and grace and peace, to be released from all the things that binds us and embraced by a God who nurtures, and guides us. This Sabbath practice, once a week in worship, and each day (only a few moments is all it takes) has refreshing power. All we have to do is stop, and let God find us.�

Back to Woody. The spirit was with us that night. I had begun to gently suggest to Eric that we might have to leave without Woody, and he had already begun to protest, when somebody shouted out good news. Woody was lost, but now he had been found! He had been folded and bent and stuffed into a little toy barn up on the shelf, and it was only someone's keen eyes that had noticed the barn door slightly ajar that finally secured Woody's freedom, and Eric's friend.

Eric loved Woody. His world was right once again.�

Friends, God loves you, and God's world is not right until each and every one of us is found. Each time God's keen eyes catch the tip of our boot sticking out of the barn door slightly ajar, and each time God brings us out and gives us a hug, each time we lose our way and God finds us again, oh the rejoicing in heaven. Oh the rejoicing.�

Can you hear the choirs of angels? I once was lost, but now I am found. Amen.�

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September 16, 2007

Rev. Paul Heins

First Presbyterian Church

Logan, Utah�