Luke 15:1-7 · The Parable of the Lost Sheep
The Other Ninety-nine
Luke 15:1-7
Sermon
by John G. Lynn
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A few years ago on a small farm in Ohio, a young woman waited anxiously for her husband to come home. Usually he returned about 5:30 for supper, but not this day. Linda called his place of business. He had left at the regular hour. Six thirty came. Still no husband. At 7:30 she put her two small children to bed. As she peered through the window toward the setting sun, the fields were rich with budding grain, but no one came up the road toward the home. Eight thirty rolled by, nine thirty. She called the sheriff's office. At 11:30 the sheriff knocked on her door. Her husband had been found in a nearby barn, where he had taken his own life.

Shocked beyond belief, Linda reeled through the next few weeks, intoxicated with grief. Then her emotions froze. As they did she began to notice the little boy whom she had put to bed at 7:30 that night. Scott withdrew and became moody. He missed his father very much. In his tears he ran to his grandfather. Everyone, especially a five-year-old fatherless boy, needs a shepherd.

Linda decided to move back with her parents in Idaho. The day they left Ohio, Scott cried and cried. He did not want to leave his shepherd. Two weeks after they arrived in northern Idaho, Scott disappeared. His mother, frantic, called the neighbors. They called the police. Her little boy was lost, she said, and she didn't know where to find him. Finally a police helicopter spotted him walking along an abandoned railroad track. "I'm not lost," he said, "I know where I am going. I'm going back to see my grandfather." He was going back to his shepherd.

In today's gospel parable, Jesus defies a group of murmuring scribes and Pharisees, cooing like pigeons on a church steeple about Jesus' search for lost sheep. Walking down the railroad tracks in Jesus' day were men collecting Roman taxes and women wearing alabaster jars around their necks -- lost sheep in a pharisaical world. The Pharisees, of course, never walked those tracks. "We are safe in the sheepfold," they said. "We know where the pasture is and we are never lost." Who needs a shepherd when we, the sheep, are in control?" How abhorrent to a Pharisee, a lost sheep. Nothing turned their stomachs more than those tax collecting men and those alabastered women, the lost sheep of Israel.

The gospel word we translate as "lost" really means destroyed, utterly devastated, crushed by a rock or chased from the flock. The tax collectors and prostitutes Jesus sought after did not just wander away. They were chased away. They did not just fall off the edge of a cliff. They were pushed off. They did not leave the flock. They were driven out.

Jesus, going after them, did not leave the 99 in the sheepfold where the wolf could not enter in. Nor did he secure them in a rich pasture. He abandoned them in a desert where wolves ran wild and no grass grew. Jesus knew from experience that no one finds nourishment or protection in the desert unless it comes from God. The 99 had something to learn. The 99 were too self-sufficient and too much in control. They needed God only to control him. Secure in the sheepfold of their own good works, they measured grace, ounce by ounce, as their reward for what they had accomplished. Their own study of the law refreshed them by day and gave them fire by night. To God they murmured, "No thank you, Lord, we'll make our own light in the darkness and our own rainfall when we feel dry. And we will drive from the sheepfold any lambs who feel differently about you." So God abandoned them. He left them to themselves and went after the lamb who longed for God to be his light by night, his rainfall by day. Running after his rejected sheep, God left behind the 99 in the desert. Why? So they, too, could feel how much they really needed God in their lives. No one controls God. No one is that self-sufficient.

Scott, walking on that railroad track in northern Idaho, did not walk that track on his own. He was pushed out there by the woman who did not want him around. Scott's mother was finding him a bother and a distraction. When he cried about his father she sent him to his room without supper. One day, instead of going to school, he started for Ohio, where he knew his shepherd was. His mother had become a Pharisee. Steeled in her own grief, she could not stomach her little boy's tears.

God left this Pharisee mother in the desert as he prompted the boy to take to the tracks for Ohio. "Now," God thought, "she will see how precious this boy is to me. She will feel something of the compassion I feel for him. In stifling his tears she is driving this precious lamb of mine from me -- his pillar of fire by night and his cloud of refreshment by day. I will leave her in the desert for a while. She will learn she is not sufficient unto herself or in control of my lambs. She will learn to cry." God does this to us all. When we are self-sufficiently safe in the sheepfold or fat in the pasture, he will take someone away. Feeling left behind in the desert we will go to God for light and seek the protection of his nourishing Word. Only when we are left in the desert will we run to the shepherd for the help we need.

Martin Luther often felt driven to the desert. He called such times his "anfechtung," his inner sense of turmoil, pain, and loss. Luther felt these feelings came from God who sometimes plays with us in a friendly manner to tease us. At such times Luther liked to read, pray and sing psalms. When Scott came back to Linda, they prayed together. She took her son in her arms and held him so tightly he felt she would never let him go. God melted away the wall of her sheepfold that day and sprouted grass in the desert of her heart, bathed now by the waters of mingled tears."

CSS Publishing, Lima, Ohio, Trouble Journey, by John G. Lynn