Luke 15:1-7: Replacement or appreciation?

1 Now the tax collectors and “sinners” were all gathering around to hear him. 2 but the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” 3 Then Jesus told them this parable: 4 “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it. 5 And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders 6 and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ 7 I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in the presence of angels over one sinner who repents.”

For regulars in the church, this is not an unfamiliar story, or an unfamiliar message. We’ve heard it various times in various settings. God sets about looking for the lost, the one who is missing. God goes looking just for one, even if it means risking the loss of 99. It is simple and fairly straightforward. It is at the heart of our faith. God values me. God values you. Not either/or, but both/and. Both you and I.

More often than not, I think of myself as one of the 99. I don’t think I’m lost, or “astray”, not unprotected or alone in the world. And, to be quite honest, when I read this passage, as one of the 99, I get a bit jealous of the one. The one gets the shepherd’s attention and gets the huge celebration. I want to be celebrated. My desire to be special and recognized and to stick out kinda makes me want to go get lost…not because I want to be lost, but because I want special attention from the shepherd and I want to be celebrated.

And yet, deep down, I know the heart of this message is that the shepherd attends to me and celebrates my presence, just as the one is celebrated, if I were the lost one, the shepherd would come for me and risk losing the others. That’s the nature of God. Culturally, I think sometimes that’s hard to understand because we think in stark dichotomies. Either/or. Either the shepherd cares for you, or the shepherd cares for the others. Either you’re a winner or you’re a loser. Either you’re popular or you’re not. Either you’re rich or you’re poor. Either you’re a success or you’re a failure. It’s one or the other and there’s no room for gray. This forced choice equates to a theology of replacement. If I’m not taking A, I’m taking B. If X is no longer suitable, then I’ll take Y. But I really think that kingdom thinking involves both/and. It’s not about replacement, it’s about appreciation. I think God is a God of both/and. We are both sinners and we are saved. We are both broken and healed. God is both immanent and transcendent—known and unknown. Made both human and divine in the person of Christ. God’s rule of both/and regularly brings opposites together. God appreciates both who we are, and who we can be at our best. God appreciates our value, our beauty, our creativity, our “us-ness”. And God appreciates each one of us—individually and uniquely.

God appreciates us so much, that when we are lost and then found, God rejoices. In this parable the shepherd has pure joy at finding his sheep. So much joy that he calls his friends and neighbors to celebrate. Now, I’m not sure I know what it is to have this much joy at finding something. Either I don’t value what I have, or I’ve never actually lost anything of true value. And I don’t think I’m alone in that. Part of me thinks it’s because we have too much stuff. In all the abundance of consumerism, we actually undervalue what we have. We become desensitized to the value of one thing because we are overwhelmed by the presence of so many things.

As someone who works largely in a retirement community, it is common to hear stories of the depression and of how things were valued. Members recount stories of their one pair of shoes that got so raged and worn that they had to put cardboard in the bottom—not how they ran out and went to BoGo at Payless and got two new pairs for the price of one-but how those shoes were so essential, so important, that they had to be cared for even after the soles wore out. In that era, if something of value went missing—you went looking!! Each item had value and importance and could not afford to be lost.

Now, in modern day America, I’d venture to say, even though I’ll sound I’ve aged 60 years—I just don’t think we value things any more. I mean, if my jeans tear—I’ll buy new ones. I may or may not patch the old ones, and I most certainly will not turn them into an apron or a blanket for the winter. If the crackers go stale, I’ll throw them out. If I don’t like my home furnishings, I’ll redecorate. And it’s not that there’s anything inherently wrong with these actions—but a problem arises when they emerge because what we have is all replaceable, which, in turn, makes it insignificant and unvaluable.

With an abundance of things and a heavily populated world, we begin to fail to appreciate the individual, the one, and all of that can make this parable just a little bit beyond our reach. It’s hard for us to understand why the pastor would make such an effort for just one—I mean, it’s just one—he has 99 more. It’s not a big loss. At least not through the modern theological lens of replacement. Our theory is you just go buy another one or wait for a new one to be born. Better one is lost than 99. Right?

But God is not a God of replacement. One sheep, one person, is not simply “as good as” the next, each is precious and valuable and worth risking everything for. God risks everything for each of us, separately, individually, uniquely God claims us as worthy and valuable—both lost and found, both/and, God values each of us.

For many of us, even in our faith, we have fallen victim to the lures of consumerism and a theology of replacement. If one member leaves, we simply wait for another to come along. There are too many people here for us to even begin to really value each one individually and deeply, and so we have a general “oh-yeah-it’s-great-you’re-here” mentality, but what happens when someone doesn’t come back? Are we willing to risk everything and go looking when someone doesn’t return? With society at large, we know, you and I, there are people who are not with us, for whatever reason—some have left the church, some have their own “privatized” spirituality, others have never crossed the threshold, and we have failed to be concerned about their absence. Okay, maybe we think about one or two of them, or maybe we talk generally about wanting those who are not here to be here, but how many of us are really willing to follow the example of the shepherd and go find them? To leave the majority? To risk losing those relationships as we seek to find that “one” who is not with us? To risk danger? To wander into the unknown? To make more than one phone call or send more than one card? How many of us seek each one out, immensely concerned with their welfare, until we find them and can come back celebrating?

I assume all of you value being a part of the flock, part of the community, guided and protected by the shepherd, otherwise you wouldn’t be here, right? Hopefully, you enjoy this place, these people, these relationships, and if you do, then be preoccupied with the absence of others. Take an interest in their whereabouts. Seek them out, even if it means risking it all. Why? Because we are called to love as God loves, to live as Christ lived, to value and appreciate each individual, knowing that there is no way we can replace them. Our heart breaks when they aren’t with us. We yearn for their return, and we don’t just wait for it to happen, for them to “come around”. We are called to go seek them out, to bring them back, to remind, to tell each person how valuable and precious they are. In God’s kingdom, no one is just a number, lost in the crowd, forgotten or neglected—each person is priceless and precious.

I hope you know that. I hope you believe that for yourself—that no matter where you’ve been or what you’ve done, God sees you as priceless and precious. And I hope you share that. I hope you can reject a theology of replacement and have a theology of appreciation instead. One that values each person as God values them and an undying urge to go and share this good news, to bring those who are not with the flock back so that they too can relish the joy of being celebrated as one of God’s beloved.

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This week I’ve had the privilege of having Beth here with me. I’ve gotten to show her my “home”. We’ve been by the schools, to the places I used to hang out, by the old hangouts, and we’ve been able to visit and enjoy much of the natural beauty that surrounds us here. We’ve been to Mono Lake, Crowley, Mammoth, Lake Mary, Mammoth Mountain, through the deserts, smelled the sage, and been cooled by the mountain air. If you’re a local, you know these places well, if you’re from out of town, they’re probably part of the reason you’re here! At each turn Beth has been awed and amazed at the greatness and beauty of our surroundings. Often, she is moved to tears. Regularly she’s said, “It’s all just so beautiful”. And she’s right, it’s incredible. I love these mountains, these valleys, this desert, and the lakes. I miss them when I’m gone and celebrate the beauty each time I’m back. And yet, at the same time, I am not moved to tears. I’m not sure I ever have been. I may regret that confession, but honestly, I haven’t, namely because it’s been a part of my life since the beginning, so I’ve never had the opportunity to be struck by the awesome size of Mt. Tom, or the expanse of the valley before me. Sure, I love them, but there’s a plethora of beauty here, so much so, that it’s become so common that I take it for granted. As I have watched Beth in her wonderment, I have to admit I’ve coveted the wonderment and newness of it all. I’ve wanted to be overwhelmed by the majesty of it all.

The power of Beth’s experiences and her appreciation of these surroundings got me thinking about our faith. Imagine for a minute that having spent your life as a Christian, learning of God’s love, being forgiven even when you knew you didn’t deserve it. Knowing the depth of God’s love, is like being a local here. You know and recognize the beauty of God’s love like you know and recognize the beauty of Mt. Tom. You cherish it and love it, and at the same time, it has become so much a part of you that you no longer stand in awe. And then one day you meet someone who has never before seen these things. The mercy, the grace, the compassion, the humble self-giving--it’s new. It’s different. It’s breathtaking. And they’re overcome.

We should want to enjoy the wonder, greatness, and majesty of God’s love, as if we were newcomers. We should allow ourselves to be drawn in anew into the marvelous things we have taken for granted. We should look at the generosity of God’s love, which does not value us based on the color of our skin, our gender, our legal status, our sexual orientation, our political party, our economic status, or our level of education, and we should be consumed with joy. God, the great judge, does not hold these things against us, even when society does. God chooses us. God beckons us. God seeks us out. God appreciates us. God cares when we are missing. And God risks it all to get us back.

That, my friends, is good news. Really good news. Take a moment to soak it in. Revel in it. Be overwhelmed by it. And when you leave this place today, go share it. Share it with enthusiasm and pure joy. Share it as Beth will share her stories of the Sierra Nevada. And then follow Christ’s example and go seek out those who are missing from our midst, know that they are not replaceable-–not to you and not to God, and help them to know the same. Convince them that they are appreciated and missed, and then when they join you, ask your friends and neighbors to celebrate with you.

Juan 12:44-46 Anhelando Esperanza

Casi siempre anhelamos esperanza. Anhelamos promesas. Necesitamos saber que las cosas nos van a salir bien. Necesitamos saber que la guerra cesará, que los matrimonios reconciliarán, que los niños dejarán de ser traviesos, que las enfermedades curarán, que se encontrarán trabajos. Necesitamos saber que hay algo más que prueba, dificultades, pleitos, e ira. Hay que haber algo más.

Muchas veces miramos al mundo y hacemos una lista de nuestra peticiones—por los dueños de trabajo que no son éticos, por los políticos corruptos, por los países quebrados por Guerra, por los huérfanos, por los refugios, por los deportados, por los con SIDA, por los con cáncer, por los que no reciben educación, ni cuidado médico, ni agua fresca, por los víctimas de abuso y violencia. Se puede añadir más y más y más. Nuestro tiempo de oración empieza pesar y de ser una carga por los problemas del mundo. Aun, por el peso de nuestros propios problemas. Necesitamos esperanza. Necesitamos algo que podamos agarrar para que no se oscurezca tanto, para que no sea deprimente.

Yo creo que la mayoría de nosotros hemos experimentado esta oscuridad—depresión, aislación, nadie con quien hablar, aflicción, perdida de un trabajo, falta de cuidado medico, enfermedad, dolor, relaciones quebradas, traición, divorcio, el rechazo. De una manera u otra, la oscuridad ha amenazado consumirnos. Para algunos solo han sido unas horas, por otros la noche larga y oscura amenaza no ofrecer el amanecer, o para otros el dolor ha sido tan grande que nos quitó el aire, aun el querer vivir.

Es en aquellos tiempo que anhelamos una operación de rescate. Necesitamos que los soldados de esperanza nos lleven. Anhelamos que el hombre vestido en azul y rojo vuele y nos agarre y nos lleve al paraíso. Nuestro corazón llama al caballero para que luche en contra al señor oscuro.

Es en estos momentos que nuestro corazón grita en las palabras del salmista, “Hasta cuando Señor?” Y lo más increíble es que Dios nos escucha el grito. Dios responde, “No mucho, mijo, estoy contigo.” Dios viene para conquistar a la oscuridad.

Juan 12:44-46 dice, “El que cree en mi—clamó Jesús, con voz fuerte--, cree no solo en mi sino en el que me envió. Y el que me ve a mi, ve al que me envió. Yo soy la luz que ha venido al mundo, para que todo el que crea en mi no viva en tinieblas.” Yo soy la luz que ha venido al mundo, para que todo el que crea en mi no viva en tinieblas.

Jesucristo es la luz. Brilla aun por lo más grave de circunstancias. Aun cuando nos consume la oscuridad, su luz esta allí para iluminarnos. Aun poca luz hace una diferencia.

Bueno, el problema es que muchas veces esperamos al superheroe. Queremos que alguien venga en caballo o vuele con fuerzas no-humanas y ponga todo en orden. Y yo creo, de cierta manera, que también fue lo que esperaban los Israelitas del siglo uno—querían un Goliat de los suyos que pudiera conquistar a los Romanos e iluminara a la tierra prometida. Y, parece que si Dios puede poner en moción el mundo, y coordinar el nieve y el sol, y soñar de los dinosaurios a las mariposas, Dios debe tener poder para crear un líder fuerte y bueno que pueda poner las cosas en orden, ¿verdad?

Pero Dios no lo hizo así. Dios es el tipo que disfruta las sorpresas. Tenemos que esperar lo inesperado. En vez de un gigante listo a conquistar el mundo, Dios mando un infante. En vez de un líder poderoso, Dios mando un siervo humilde. En vez de un hombre volando con fuerzas no humanas, Dios mando alguien a colgar en la cruz. Y si somos honestos, tenemos que admitir que Jesús no es el héroe que esperamos. Es humilde, dócil, y relaciona con todos los malos. Si lo comparamos con el Hulk, no es mucho, y aun si lo ponemos al lado del gobernador de California, no nos parece mucho.

Pero no importa cómo nos parece, Jesús gana. El dócil, el humilde gana y su luz brilla por la oscuridad. Este humilde carpintero conquista la muerte. La sangre de este hombre es más fuerte que cualquier dictador, cualquier criminal, cualquier obsesión, cualquier adicción. La fuerza del hijo crucificado es más fuerte de toda oscuridad.

La pega es que tenemos que blandir este poder. Cristo hizo el trabajo de redención. Lucho contra el maldad, y cerró la puerta a la muerte—todas estas cosas son verdaderas. Pero para que el amor y la compasión, la luz y la esperanza conquistan a los problemas de este mundo, tenemos que llamara al nombre de Cristo vivo, tenemos que renunciar al pecado, tenemos que pedir la unción del Espíritu Santo, y tenemos que permitir la luz de Cristo, que brilla de nosotros, que penetre las tinieblas. El poder de Cristo es tremendo, y tenemos que utilizarlo, tenemos que compartirlo para que la oscuridad no permanezca.

Piénsalo así: imagínate la capilla bien oscuro. Oscurísimo. Y después enciende una vela—comparte luz, tiene una sombrita, y con su luz, podemos ver algunos de los detalles. Y mientras mas y mas gente comparten la luz, y otros invitan a Cristo a su vida, crece la luz—podemos ver con más claridad, podemos ver colores, como los colores son un reflejo de la luz. Para que la luz crezca, para que la luz brille suficiente para eliminar la oscuridad, tenemos que compartirla.

Yo se que el lenguaje de oscuridad nos incomoda a algunos. Y decir que hay gente en la oscuridad, aun más. Queremos que el poder de Dios, la luz y el amor de Dios se enfrenten con todo mal. Queremos saber que Dios esta con todos aun en la oscuridad mas fuerte antes de que se comprometan a Cristo. Y, de muchas maneras, Dios está con ellos, por su gracia preveniente, y por su presencia encarnada en el mundo. Pero también sabemos que la invitación para que Cristo viva en nuestras vidas cambia algo. Somos renovados, somos perdonados, y podemos descansar en la seguridad de Dios. Podemos ayudar a los necesitados no porque nos beneficie a nosotros, pero porque el amor de Cristo nos empuja a acción de compasión.

Por los de nosotros que crecimos en la iglesia o aun los que han sido cristianos por anos—todas estas cosas son obvias y asumimos que todos conocen el perdón, que todos dan por compasión, que todos descansan en la esperanza y la promesa de Dios. Pero hay gente que todavía no conoce a la luz. Hay gente tan cargados con ira, dolor, resentimiento, y miedo que la oscuridad les consume y no saben de donde vendrá la esperanza.

Pero nosotros sí sabemos. Sabemos que la esperanza viene de este niño, nacido en una cuadra, que crece para colgar de una cruz. Sabemos que tenemos esperanza porque Cristo conquisto la muerte y venció la oscuridad. Tenemos la promesa que los problemas de este mundo pueden ser vencidos. Pero los problemas del mundo no serán vencidos si nosotros nos sentamos y no hacemos nada. Los problemas de este mundo solo serán vencidos si clamamos a Cristo, actuamos con su amor, damos de bondad a los necesitados, perdonamos a nuestros enemigos, pedimos sanidad por las heridas, y compartimos la luz. Tenemos que ser las manos y los pies en este mundo. Tenemos que ser los agentes de Dios que hacen una diferencia y no esperarle a otro que la haga. Cristo ya hizo el primer paso, Cristo ya lo hizo posible, y tenemos que usar el poder que nos dio en el bautismo para brillar en este mundo. Que conquistemos la oscuridad. Que la luz de Cristo brille para siempre. Que el mundo sepa que hay esperanza. Que nos acordemos nosotros, en los tiempos de oscuridad, que Cristo es la luz y en el no hay oscuridad y con él se puede eliminar la oscuridad a nuestro alrededor. Amen.

John 12:44-46 Craving Hope

Most of the time we crave hope. We crave promise. We need to know that things are going to turn out alright. We need to know that wars will cease, marriages will be reconciled, kids will grow out of back talk, illnesses will be healed, and jobs will be found. We need to know there is something more than trial, strife, discord, and anger. There has to be something more.

So often we look around our world and list our concerns—for unethical business men and women, for corrupt politicians, for warn torn countries, for refuges with no place to go, for orphans, for those living with AIDS/HIV, for those with cancer, for those who can’t get education, health care, or even potable water, for victims of abuse and violence. The list can go on and on and on. Our time of prayer begins to weigh on us because of the greatness of the world’s problems. The greatness of our own problems. We need hope. We need something to hold onto so that things don’t become too dark, too bleak, too dismal.

I think most of us have experienced that darkness—depression, isolation, no one to turn to, grief, loss of a job, lack of health care, illness, pain, broken friendships, betrayal, divorce, rejection. In one form or fashion the darkness has threatened to take us over, to consume us. For some it was only a few short hours, for others the long dark night that threatened never to dawn, for others a pain so great it took our breath away, maybe even our will to live.

It’s at those times that we long for some great rescue operation. We need the soldiers of hope to sweep in and take us away. We long for the man in red and blue to fly in and scoop us up and whisk us away to a peaceful serene getaway. Our heart beckons for the knight in shining armor to come and fight the dark lord.

It is in these times of darkness that our heart cries out in the words of the Psalmist and says, “How long O Lord?” And the amazing thing is that God hears our cry. God responds, “not long my child, for I am with you.” God sweeps in to conquer the darkness.

John 12:44-46 says, “Then Jesus cried out, “When a man believes in me, he does not believe in me only, but in the one who sent me. 45 When he looks at me, he sees the one who sent me. I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.” I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.”

Jesus Christ is the light. He shines brightly through even the gravest of circumstances. Even when the darkness is over-bearing, his light is ready to illuminate us. And even a little bit of light makes a big difference.

Now, the trouble is that all too often we’re expecting a superhero. We want someone to charge in on a horse or fly in with superhuman strength and set all things right in that instant. And I think, in many ways, that’s what the 1^st century Israelites hoped for too—they wanted a Goliath of their own to conquer the Romans and illuminate the promised land. And really, it seems that if God can set the world in motion, and orchestrate ice ages and heat waves, and dream up everything from dinosaurs to dragonflies, certainly God can come up with a good strong leader to set things right, right?!

But that’s not what God did. God’s the type that seems to enjoy catching us off-guard. You’ve got to expect the unexpected with God. Instead of a big strong giant ready to conquer the world, God sends an infant. Rather than a shrewd leader with powerful connections, God sends a humble servant. Instead of a flying man with superhuman strength, God sends someone to hang on a cross. If we’re honest, most of us have to admit that Jesus isn’t exactly the hero we expect. He’s humble, meek and associates with all the wrong people. Compared to the Hulk, he’s not much, heck, if we put him next to our governor, many of us would place our bets on the governor!

And yet, he wins. The meek humble one wins and his light shines through. This humble carpenter conquered death. The blood of this man proves mightier than any dictator, any criminal master-mind, any obsession, any addiction. The strength of the crucified son overpowers any and all darkness.

The catch is, we have to wield this power. Christ did the work of redemption, he fought the battle against evil, he closed the door on death—all of those things are true, but in order for love and compassion, light and hope to take over the ills of this world, we, we must call on the name of the risen Christ, we must renounce our sins, we must ask for the anointing of the Holy Spirit, and we must allow Christ’s light, which shines in us, to break through the darkness. Christ’s power is tremendous, but we have to use it, we have to share it so that the darkness does not persist.

Think of it this way: Imagine the sanctuary were completely dark. Pitch black. And then one candle is lit—it shares light, it casts a shadow, and with its light, we can even begin to see some detail. Now, each of us has a candle of our own, but it remains unlit until we ask Christ to live in us, to shine in our hearts. And when we do, Christ lights our candle and we too begin to share light, to show details. And as more and more people share the light and others invite Christ in, the light grows—we can see more clearly, colors reappear, as color is a reflection of light. For the light to grow, for the light to be strong enough to overcome darkness, we must share it.

I know language of darkness makes some of us uneasy. And to say that there are people living in darkness can be even more uncomfortable. We want God’s power, light, and love to prevail against all. We want to know that God is with all people even in the most profound darkness before they make a commitment to Christ. And, in many ways, God is with those people, through prevenient grace, through God’s incarnate presence in this world. But we also know that the invitation to have Christ live in our lives makes a difference. We are renewed, we are forgiven, we can rest in God’s assurance, we can reach out and care for those in need not because it will benefit us, but because through Christ we are moved to compassionate action. For those of us that are life-long Christians, or even those of us that have been Christians for years—all of those things become obvious and we assume that everyone knows what true forgiveness is, we assume that all people are drawn into compassionate giving, we assume that all people rest easy in the hope and promise of the Triune God. But there are people that do not yet know the light. There are people so burdened with anger, hurt, resentment, and fear that they are overpowered by darkness and have no idea where hope will be. But we know. We know that hope comes through the unlikely infant, born in a stable, who grew up and hung from a cross. We know that we can have hope because Christ conquered death, and conquered darkness. We have the promise that the ills of this world can be overcome. But the problems of our world will not be overcome if we sit idly by. The problems of this world will only be overcome if we call on the name of Christ, act with his love, give generously to those in need, forgive our own enemies, ask for healing of our wounds, and share the light. We must be Christ’s hands and feet in this world. We must be God’s agents who do something to make a difference instead of waiting for someone else to take the initiative. Christ already took the first step, Christ already made these things possible, and we have to use the power bestowed on us through our baptism to go out and shine in this world. May we overcome the darkness. May Christ’s light shine brightly. May the world know that there is hope. May each of us remember, during those times of darkness, that Christ is the light of the world and in him there is no darkness at all, and with him we can eliminate the darkness around us. Amen.