You Will Be Found

Luke 15:1-32

15Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. 2And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” 3So he told them this parable: 4“Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? 5When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. 6And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ 7Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance. 8“Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? 9When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ 10Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

As we gather for worship each week, we have a ritual of saying that +KINDRED is created by everyone who comes to be a part of it, that this is a place and a time and people where we can be who we are as we are and where we look for the face of Christ in those sitting across the table. The repetition of these words and phrases, in part, begins our time together with a reminder of who we are and how we are – partly to let those who may be new to us know what we’re about, but also to remind all of us to be on the lookout for Christ in each and every face we encounter, and to find our grounding in the promise that WE are welcome and holy even in sweatpants and a mood – you know…the things we worry would actually be unwelcome.

It’s been tough for us during this pandemic because all of us haven’t been able to see ALL the faces that make up +KINDRED.  Our folks on the street and those without unlimited internet miss being together with everyone, miss the warmth and community of our shared tables and sacred conversation. Ray and Tod and Christian and Diane and Chris and Angel and all the folks who meet briefly on the front porch on Sunday nights for meals to-go pray together for their loved ones, their own joy and concerns…and for you…for the time when they will be able to welcome you all back to that holy gathering.

It is because of the love of Christ shared between us that we miss each other so much and long to be together again, reunited to one another, made whole in community. It is these holy relationships and experiences that fuel us and keep us in this practice of looking for Christ in everyone we encounter. It shapes how we engage and welcome anyone we come across, especially those readily labeled as “sinners” by those who are eager to exclude themselves from that moniker.

The neighborhood we call home as +KINDRED, the historic and vibrant Montrose streets are the dwelling place of many unpolished people that “respectable” folks would like to distance themselves from. For the last 40-50 years it has been a place known for welcoming what some would call “wayward”- the artists, the queer, the quirky, the poor - the ones who don’t simply blend into “polite society”. Much of that time, it has been a place that this same “polite society” would certainly never go.  Our building has a generous awning that seems like suitable shelter to the weary. We have running water that refreshes and a place to literally recharge. We call this place a sanctuary and even strangers are drawn to this as a place of refuge and safety. All of this together means that, yes, there are often people who bring their cardboard sleeping mats and grocery carts filled with their things, and habits of survival that may unnerve other passersby. I’ve noticed that this perception of particular danger is often aligned with the color of skin.

There is a small portion of church neighbors who have,  over the 5 years of our existence, reported +KINDRED to police higher-ups, to city council members, and to our own bishop for welcoming criminals and encouraging them with our care. There have been many meetings, and phone calls, and social media campaigns where the grumbling erupts and our character maligned, and even our very faithfulness to God called into question.

Jesus responds with far more gentleness of Spirit than I’m inclined to. In fact, it is one of the many reasons I believe in the power of the Holy Spirit at work in me when I don’t immediately lose my shit. And to be fair, I’m not a beacon of righteousness either. I can also get frustrated and bitter when things get messier than what I think they should be.

To a people who build their understanding of goodness on rules and regulations and right order and performance, an intellectual debate will only dig the hole deeper and perhaps still miss the heart of the question.  And so Jesus responds not with straightforward explanation, but with story. Jesus shares several stories, each offering a slightly different angle for not just understanding with the mind but with the heart…who God is and how God is. It points toward the way of being we are created to reflect and reveals in what way we are sought and held.

These parables in particular seem to resonate strongly with so many people so many years later. They are the inspiration of art and writing and music, perhaps by those who feel lost themselves but also, I wonder…by those and for those who have been made to feel lost, outside of the fold, meant to be unseen.

These parables are stories of those and for those whose primary identifier is seen as lost rather than loved. God offers a story of God’s own care and devotion that perhaps we often expect of ourselves as a prerequisite of divine love. In this story, there are no words of judgement or shame regarding the lost things. Sheep wander; it’s just what they do. They wander after food and refreshment, out of curiosity or in order to escape danger. And so sometimes, with or without any particular malicious or negligent action, sheep end up dangerously isolated. Coins fall behind the counter or slip between the cushions where they are then disconnected from their purpose. Sometimes it’s the result of others’ harm. Sometimes we choose a direction that leads us astray. But sometimes, it’s just an inevitable part of being in the world.

I wonder if sometimes we are eager declare others as “lost”, because it is difficult, uncomfortable, and so often avoided to acknowledge when we ourselves are lost. We fear it diminishes us in some way, reflects some failure on our part, or reflects the totality of who we are.

Being lost does not denote a lack of value but here is shown to be quite the opposite.  It is, in fact, because of our enduring value, no matter our status, that God insists on our restoration because of our belovedness. Jesus uses images that show the extent to which God is committed to this truth.

Perhaps our picture of a shepherd is a bucolic scene of someone taking a gentle stroll through lush green hills. But this story imagines a shepherd who sets out with a determination that is much more than a laissez faire attitude of “well, I sure hope I run into that sheep some,” but someone with a tenacious devotion. I picture someone like all the farmers I witnessed during the week of unprecedented freezing weather, chiseling through inches of ice several times a day to make sure their animals were cared for.

Again, we have a story of God in the feminine. I can think of nothing more determined. Here she leaves no stone unturned and no corner overlooked until the coins in her charge are recovered. In my house growing up we called my mom the “the finder of all lost things.” Whenever something would go missing, she would continue to search long after the rest of us had given up, even for things that were ours. Inevitably she could find things that eluded the rest of the family.

Neither the shepherd nor the woman welcome the lost with a scolding or a lecture on how to avoid being lost again.  There may be a time for such reflection, but in this moment there is only restoration and rejoicing. The resounding joy must be shared.  This is to be a celebration not only for the one, but for all.

When the lost is returned, one possible response is to move right into protection and preservation and back to basic survival, to keep a tight formation so that loss doesn’t happen again. But God reminds us that it’s ok and good and holy to not just settle for survival but to delight and dance and have a grand ole party. And that we need not hide this joy from others but invite them to share in it with us. The way of God is that the joy of one brings joy to all those around.  It lifts and sustains us together when joy seems beyond us. It connects us even to the angels and to God’s very self. It is an expression and a reminder and a call to our own found-ness.

I want to offer a musical meditation as we consider our found-ness. “You Will Be Found” from the musical Dear Evan Hansen is the song of a teenager navigating anxiety, loss, and identity, and it rings with echoes of God’s promise in these parables. May it be a holy word to you today.

Where did you feel lost this week? Where and when have you felt found? How will you rejoice?