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.
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