Luke 15:1-7 · The Parable of the Lost Sheep
Lost and Found
Luke 15:1-7
Sermon
by Leonard Sweet
Loading...

Even though it happened years ago, many of us here this morning can still recall the tragedy as if it were yesterday. Remember the way a whole country held its breath, prayed its prayers, and sat glued to the television set? We watched, spellbound, as the Herculean efforts of hundreds of firefighters, engineers, mining experts, and emergency services specialists, labored to save the life of one trapped child. As we watched and prayed, this little girl became everyone's child.

This child was Baby Jessica, as the media dubbed her, a tiny two year old who somehow managed to fall down an abandoned well-pipe with an unbelievably narrow diameter, which made sending anyone or any equipment in after her impossible. The little girl's body was wedged tight, bent in two at the waist, dozens of feet below ground.

After conventional rescue techniques all failed, the small Texas community turned all its brawn and willpower loose. They determined they must dig a new, intersecting rescue tunnel in order to free the trapped child.

It took agonizing days of digging, shoring up crumbling tunnel walls, scooping out earth inch-by-inch for fear of shifting the soil holding Baby Jessica's pipeline prison intact. But the rescuers finally reached the girl. Under the blaze of a million megawatts of anxious media cameras, the little girl - now the entire nation's lost child - was finally pulled free of the concrete straitjacket that had held her captive. She was rushed to waiting parents and physicians. Beyond all hope she was alive, intact, and except for a broken leg and some nasty head scrapes, relatively unharmed.

Despite the size and diversity of our country, the drama of Baby Jessica's lostness and foundness touched hearts nationwide. Every parent hugged their own child a little tighter. Every brother and sister looked at each other in a new, fragile light. For just a moment in time, one lost little girl became lost to each of us. And when everyone's child Baby Jessica was found at last, an entire nation rejoiced.

In today's gospel text Jesus has the audacity to suggest to his audience, especially those surly, grumbling Pharisees and scribes, that this is the kind of rejoicing that goes on in heaven every time a sinner repents. Instead of painting a picture of God the righteous judge, condemning sinners with hell-fire justice and lightning-bolt doom, Jesus describes God as a rescue worker - out prowling the hillsides, grubbing under the bed, looking anywhere and everywhere in order to find the lost causes and last cases who have fallen away.

Furthermore, once the repentant ones have returned there's no mention of judgment nor of any conditional status to test the convictions of these repentant ones. Instead there's all-out rejoicing; there's big-time celebration; there are parties in heaven over the one sinner as there will never be for the ninety-nine righteous.

No wonder the Pharisees and scribes took exception to Jesus' actions and audacious attitudes. By dining with these notorious sinners, tax collectors, prostitutes, even just observational slackers, the precociously pious Pharisees feared that they themselves may have been exposed to some form of impurity. Kind of like when you get salmonella from the salad bar at The Sizzler because the kid who cut up the cantaloupe forgot that the raw steak had just been tenderized on that same cutting board. The laws of ritual impurity depended upon a strict pecking order of who and what was acceptable, a pecking order Jesus was seriously messing up.

Furthermore, the message of the lost sheep, lost coin, and lost son, was far too frothy for the strict-minded Pharisees. Where was judgment? Where was punishment? Where was the bitter harvest that must be reaped when sins were sown?

And even more than the absence of judgment, what about the absence of concern for the 99? Here's how novelist Michael Maloney describes his vision of the lost sheep scene in his book Handling Sin: "He saw above a little desk a tinted print of Christ leaning on a shepherd's hook, gazing contentedly at a solitary sheep, while the whole rest of the flock was escaping over the horizon." (Michael Maloney, Handling Sin [New York: Simon and Schuster, 1986], 196).

Jesus' assumptions in the lost sheep parable sound sweet on the first reading, but ring increasingly off-key upon repeated study. Anyone who has more than one child knows you can't abandon one part of the family in order to insure the safety of the rest. Anyone with multiple responsibilities of any kind - being a parent, an employee, a business owner, a citizen, a consumer, a child, a guardian, a voter - knows you can't totally divest yourself of one identity in order to fulfill the obligations of another.

Perhaps this is why Jesus' parable posits a flock of 100 sheep. Such a large flock would be a family concern. Such a large flock would be the responsibility, the income, the security, of more than one individual. The search for the lost sheep is crucial. But so is the safety of the 99 others. They're the responsibility of the rest of the family. It requires a consolidated, communal effort to both safeguard the continued well-being of the 99, while mounting an all-out search for the one that's missing.

The thrust of the parable isn't that the 99 are expendable. It's that each and every one of the sheep is vitally important, as worthy of saving as is every other creature. The shepherd does the searching for the lost one. But the well-being and continued security of the remaining 99 are the responsibility of the rest of the community, that is the family who has a stake in the totality of the flock.

We're family. We're the family. The Christian community, the church, is the family that owns the flock in which members sometimes stray.

Whom do we send out on search-and-rescue missions? Do we support them by ensuring the continued well-being and gracious care of those who remain in the flock? Can we mount confident and courageous rescue missions? Do we really want that straying, straggling, out-of-step sheep back in the fold? Do you feel the pain of the loss of one?

We're all the one. No matter how churched, unchurched, or overchurched you are, no matter how biblically schooled or Scripturally untutored you are: Jesus' parable touches the lost child in all of us. No one walks through childhood, adolescence, adulthood, or old-age, without at some time feeling alone, abandoned, lost. "We all, like sheep, have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way" (Isaiah 53:6). Jesus' parable addresses this fear, this longing, this deep human yearning, to be found and to be among the found.

Even in our increasingly post-Christian, de-churched culture, the most beloved, most recognized churchy song is "Amazing Grace." The verse that most everyone sings the loudest includes the refrain: "I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind, but now I see."

We have a God who promises: "I will seek the lost, bring back the scattered, bind up the broken" (Ezekiel 34:16).

Is there any rejoicing in the house?

(End sermon by singing "Amazing Grace.")

ChristianGlobe Networks, Collected Sermons, by Leonard Sweet