“Lost and Found”

3/18/07

Rev Dr Jon Smoot

 

Our text today starts out with, “Now all the tax collectors and sinners (read culture’s outcasts) were coming near to listen to Jesus.” Why only the outcasts? Because the huge crowds were gone. Jesus has just been telling the here-to-fore, adoring throng that there is a real cost to following him. He didn’t hide, contrary to convention, the fine print, as if the good news of God was some Columbia Record Club thing that we all got sucked into decades ago. He has just said in Chapter 14:  “Whoever comes to me and does not cut themselves off from family ties, cannot be my disciples. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciples. ” And then the real kicker: “None of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.”

 

No wonder the crowds were gone – only those with nothing left to lose were hanging around. Only the sinners and the lonely that culture and religion had written off were listening. For a couple of good reasons: Jesus more than loved them, he liked them! He didn’t treat them like an “other.” Jesus well-knows the lonely and outcast part of ourselves. They identified with him and he with them. In the words of Jurgen Moltmann the German theologian, “The suffering of abandonment is overcome by the suffering of love, which is not afraid of what is sick and ugly, but accepts it and takes it to itself in order to heal it.” They felt and saw this in him, and their hungry souls ate it up. Jesus was and is the Good News from God, especially for those with nothing left to lose. The others went home, no longer interested in this Good News, for it didn’t seem to matter to their situation, especially since it came with a price tag of response.

 

So, why are you and I still listening to Jesus right now? Why don’t we just go home, muttering to ourselves that the cost is too high? One commentator writes: “The cost of discipleship is paid in many different kinds of currency. For some persons a redirection of time and energy is required, for others, a change in personal relationships, a change in vocation, or a commitment of financial resources; but for each person, the call to discipleship is all-consuming. A complete change in priorities is required of all would-be disciples. No part-time disciples are needed. No partial commitments are accepted.” In seminary I attended an Episcopal church that had a sign that reminded everyone of their commitment as they left the sanctuary. It said: “Crew only, no passengers, please.”

 

I ask again, why are we still following Jesus? I believe it is because you know that what Jesus says is true, albeit difficult. I believe it is because you know that God is a demanding God of righteousness and blinding clarity, but also the searching God of Grace.  I believe you are here, because you are looking for some ultimately true good news for yourselves, for everyone you love, and for everyone that shares this planet.

 

And so right here, in the middle of Lent, in the middle of the Gospel of Luke, and with Jesus on the way to Jerusalem and his passion, is this little gem of a story. Luke, the story-teller wants us to pause for a moment on our Lenten journey to the Garden, the cross, and the empty tomb, and tells a story that we all know and love. But know this: The parables of Jesus are always sneaky. A parable is like a Trojan Horse: it looks harmless, you let it in, and then Bam! It’s got you. How might this parable get us?

 

Well, sermon #1 could be: There is a significant contingent of us that are living out the life of the younger son. We want all the wonderful gifts and experiences that come with the Father’s house but none of the responsibility. There is little to no commitment to be a crew member. We may or may not show up for worship and education for ourselves or our children. We don’t have time to serve God through the church. There may be fleeting resolve to do better, but it fades as quickly as the flower arrangements on a Sunday morning. The leadership of the church has to scramble with shrinking commitment and resources. This could be the sermon -- But where’s the good news in that?

 

Sermon #2 could be: An even larger group of our church is the elder son, in the flesh. He projects the image of faithfulness which serves as a protective wall holding back the flood waters of resentment that have accumulated through the years. There is no joy or passion in the Father’s house – only duty and obligation, because darn it, no one else is doing it, especially that ungrateful little wretch of the younger brother I just talked about. This could also be the sermon - But where’s the good news in that?

 

Jesus has just told two parables before this: but we’ve totally misnamed those and this one: We call the first one the parable of the lost sheep, but it’s really about the wild party over the found sheep. We call the second one the parable of the lost coin, but it’s really about the rejoicing over the found coin. We call this one the parable of the lost and prodigal son, but who do you think this parable is about?

 

Let me just say this: Right now, deep in the heart of Lent, comes the truth that commentator Fred Craddock points out: “There is a condition worse than death – to be lost. There is a condition better than life – to be found.” 

 

There’s a reason this story about lost and found is told in Lent – the season of penitence and repentance. Listen closely to this definition of repentance from Frederick Buechner: “To repent is to come to your senses. It is not so much something you do as something that happens. True repentance spends less time looking at the past and saying, ‘I’m sorry,’ than to the future and saying, ‘Wow!’”

 

“Coming to your senses” – ring a bell from our story? Verse 17 says: “But when he came to his senses he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father.’”

 

He came to his senses; he got up from the muck, and went home. The journey home begins with coming to our senses. That means that the most difficult step in homecoming is the first one. Coming to our senses is recognizing that the empty place inside of us, the gnawing hunger and restlessness is God calling us home. But are we hungry enough? Can it be said of us that like Ovid’s King Erysichthon: “in the midst of banquets he searched for a meal?”

 

I can’t tell you how you might come to your senses, or if you ever will, as it not so much something you do as it is something that happens. There is no magic wand to wave, no spiritual formula of Hail Mary’s and helping the homeless that will awaken your senses and the need to come home to God. I can’t tell you how or awaken in you the desire to get into the party that God is throwing all the time.

 

But here comes Jesus, telling us of the God who comes running with the love that requires no confession and no restitution. And we are invited to join that party – but instead of saying “Wow!” - too often we find God’s idea of a party list offensive. We hear the sound of music and dancing inside the house and resentfully mutter: “What is the meaning of this!”  

 

God says: “Come to the party!” We say: “No thank you, the people you invite includes people who don’t deserve a party.” God says: “The time is ripe, pregnant with power and meaning – come and join me in a joyous revolution.” We say: “Now is the time for caution, for prudence, for all things done in decency and in order, now is not the right time for a party.”

 

But we can’t stop the party, or decide who God will invite – we can only join it. And it is a party – a non-stop blow-out. It includes and embraces everyone- for there is a condition worse than death – to be lost. And there is a condition better than life – to be found.

 

“There was a man who had two sons:” much more than that: he loved both sons and went out to both sons. There is here no measured love, no winners or losers, as we would classify it. God so loved the world that God sent… and still God comes and still God invites us, and still God sends us out as a joyful search party for the least, the last, and the lost. Not because we have all the answers, but, hopefully, because we remember what it is like to be lost – and then found. How about you? Ready to join the party?

 

Know that God is eagerly waiting for you to appear on the horizon, for the coming home of civil servant and terrorist, inmate at Abu Ghraib and prison guard, saint and sinner, rich and poor, older son and younger son, anyone who comes to their senses, arises from the muck, and comes home. Thanks be to God.