What’s Even Worse Than Being Lost?

Some years ago, my wife and I spent several days visiting various sites in New York City. Among them was the American Museum of Natural History, an amazing array of displays that could occupy one’s time for days. From dinosaur bones and other prehistoric fossils to presentations about astronomy, it’s a magnet for the scientifically minded.

 

We enjoyed what we saw, but after a while decided that if you’ve seen one old bone you’ve seen them all. So, we exited the museum and headed across the street to Central Park, 1.3 acres of nature sprawling in the midst of an incredible concrete jungle. We planned to walk about a bit then go back to our midtown Manhattan hotel. One problem: I forgot to bring Gladys Penelope Snodgrass (GPS) with us.

 

We were enjoying the trees and flowers, along with Central Park Lake, presuming that before long we’d come out the other side and head toward Times Square. But navigating our way around the park wasn’t as simple as it seemed – especially for one directionally challenged as I am. We were making great time but going nowhere fast. 

I tried to ask a couple of joggers if we were going the right way, but quickly learned native New Yorkers aren’t inclined to offer any kind of assistance to strangers, no matter how harmless they might appear. So, we kept walking for about an hour until we saw a busy street, thinking we’d finally found our way. Only problem was, right across the street was…the American Museum of Natural History. We’d basically been lost, walking around in a circle, but didn’t know it.

 

That moment confirmed for me one basic truth (besides my directional disorientation): The only thing worse than being lost is not knowing you’re lost. Wandering around the park, we thought we knew exactly where we were, but we didn’t. 

 

Sadly, this is the plight of many people today, whether they’re trying to find their way around sprawling acreage like New York’s famous park or negotiating the journey through everyday life. They’re lost – but don’t know they’re lost.

 

A friend who was a very effective personal evangelist talked about the challenge of taking the good news of Jesus Christ to people. “Sometimes people have to get lost before they realize their need to be saved.” 

 

Imagine of an ambulance arriving in front of your home. There it sits, lights flashing and siren blaring, and you’re wondering, “What’s it doing there? I don’t need an ambulance. I’m fine.” But what if, unbeknownst to you, a heart attack was just minutes away?

 

In Luke 15, Jesus told three parables about lost things: Lost sheep, with a frantic shepherd leaving 99 sheep in his flock to find one that had wandered away; a lost coin, whose owner swept her house until she found it; and probably the most memorable, a lost son. 

 

In the latter parable, commonly known as the “prodigal son,” a young fellow had tired of waiting for his wealthy dad to die. So, he asked for – actually, demanded that he receive – his inheritance in advance. Talk about ingratitude and disrespect!

 

If you recall the story, this younger of two sons “squandered his wealth in wild living” (Luke 15:13). Unfortunately for him, his reckless spending came to an end when dad’s money ran out. Oh, dear, what to do? About this time, a severe famine struck the country he was in, so Peter Prodigal latched onto a bright idea – he would hire himself out to feed pigs. Talk about a drastic change in social standing! He even envied the slop the hogs were eating. Do you think he was lost?

 

Finally, in despair the young man decided to swallow his pride – which probably required a massive gulp – and crawl back home. Maybe his father would be merciful enough to make him one of the hired men.

 

The parable has the happiest of endings, with the father spotting the wayward son from afar, running to him and welcoming him back into the family. It’s a wonderful story that represents how God in His mercy and grace is eager to save and restore every “prodigal” who recognizes his or her lostness and returns to Him in humility and repentance.

 

But as my friend said, we must come to a realization that we’re lost before we can understand how desperately we need to be saved. This applies to each one of us, as well as people we know who are wandering around the confused, chaotic world somehow unaware that they’re lost.

Then we can sing with gusto the words of the beloved hymn, “Amazing Grace” – “I once was lost, but now I’m found; was blind, but now I see.” 

The Joy of Finding What You’ve Lost

Few things are worse than losing something important.

Do you know why things you’ve lost or misplaced are always in the last place you look? Because after you find them, you stop looking. (No one has ever accused me of failing to recognize the obvious!) But what about losing something important and feeling much relief when you looked in that “last place,” and there it was?

We’ve all those moments: Being in a hurry to leave, wondering where the car keys are. Planning to go food shopping and unable to find the grocery list. Being all dressed for the concert when a panicky thought sets in: “Where are the tickets?”

Once I’d planned to use a quote from magazine article in a column, but lost the article. It was before the Internet (can you remember back that far?), so I couldn’t retrieve it online. I managed to obtain a photocopy of the piece. Then I lost it again! (Sometimes I think some black hole swallows up some of the stuff we misplace, along with the occasional odd sock.)

A sense of loss seems most acute when what we’re seeking has considerable value: an expensive piece of jewelry, a wallet, or a book that has meant a lot to us. Losing keepsakes can be particularly troubling, being irreplaceable. Maybe a cherished old family photo. A unique gift received from a loved one that holds much sentimental value. Or perhaps a special letter or note that arrived when greatly needed.

Interestingly, Jesus talked about keepsakes and the agony of losing them. In Luke 15, He talked about a shepherd who had 100 sheep and left them to seek one that had strayed. Next He cited a woman who lost one of her 10 silver coins. She searched until she found it, then threw a party. Finally He told about the lost son, a parable known as “the Prodigal Son.”

In the parable of the son, a wealthy father yields to a son’s demand to be given his portion of the inheritance. Since his father was living, essentially the son was implying, “I wish you were dead, so I could have your money.”

The wayward son leaves town, squanders the considerable fortune he had received, survives in squalor for a time, and then decides to return home, humble himself before his father and hope he’d hire him as a servant.

Instead, as the son approaches in the distance, the father spots him. Despite the circumstances of his son’s departure, he rushes to him and offers a warm, welcoming embrace. And then throws an impromptu feast to celebrate the long-awaited return.

Some people might regard these stories as sentiments about the happy moment of recovering things lost. But in them Jesus gives His followers a glimpse of the heart of God. Because in the Lord’s sight, most of us – if not all – are or have been prodigals, wandering away and pursuing our own desires. “We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him (Jesus) the iniquity of us all” (Isaiah 53:6).

Most of all, these stories present God as a seeker. He eagerly and persistently seeks us, even when we have no interest in being found by Him.

The shepherd could have concluded, “I’ve still got 99 sheep. That one’s more trouble than it’s worth, anyway.” But he didn’t. The woman still had nine coins, but was relentless until she clutched the 10^th coin in her hand – and then wanted to share the good news with her friends. And the father, despite the great emotional pain his rebellious son’s departure must have inflicted, didn’t wait with arms folded, telling his son upon his return, “Well, I suppose you’ve seen the light. Now you want me to act as if nothing happened?”

No, the father was overjoyed by the son's return. In fact, he couldn’t wait for his arrival. He ran to him, hugged and kissed him, and immediately made him guest of honor for a very special shindig.

We sometimes hear of people making a “decision for Christ,” or “committing my life to Jesus.” And this is legitimate. Jeremiah 29:13 states, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” But the Scriptures clearly show even when we want nothing to do with God, He diligently seeks us.

When tax collector Zacchaeus turned from his past life to follow Christ, Jesus responded, “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost” (Luke 19:10). At the conclusion of His story of the shepherd hunting for the lost sheep, He said, “In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be lost” (Matthew 18:14).

At the core, these are stories of mercy and grace, truths we can embrace ourselves. Often we don’t want to find God – He’s the last place we want to look. Like the prodigal son, we deserve to be disowned by God, but He doesn’t do it. We certainly don’t deserve His unconditional love and acceptance, but He gives them still. What could be better news than that?

What’s Something Worth?

My vintage record albums, vestiges of my youth,
apparently aren't worth what I thought they were.

There are two kinds of people: Those that like garage sales, and those that don’t. I count myself among the latter.

My wife and daughters enjoy staging garage sales, gathering stuff from around the house they no longer want or need and seeing if other people will buy them. They also like to visit other people’s garage sales to see what “treasures” they may discover.

On the other hand, I think garage sales are more trouble than they’re worth. You spend all that time sorting through your possessions, deciding what you want to part with, price it, display it, and then hope someone sees value in what you’re offering. Then you have to gather up and put away what’s left. The only time I think it’s worthwhile is when you’ve made enough money to justify the time invested.

But one universal element of garage sales is very interesting, as someone reminded me recently. We might present an item for sale and put a price on it, but people are only willing to pay what they think it’s worth. One person’s junk is another person’s treasure, and vice versa.

At a garage sale, the seller’s opinion doesn’t matter. Beauty – or treasure – is in the eye of the beholder. The same principle holds true for other types of transactions, whether you’re selling an old car, a piece of furniture or a collectible.

Not long ago I decided it was time to purge a portion of my collection of vinyl records, some of them nearly 50 years old. I took them to a local store to see what I could get. I understand how retailing works, so I wasn’t expecting to receive the store price for similar vintage albums, but recordings by Country Joe and the Fish, Paul Anka, the Four Seasons and Chubby Checker ought to worth at least $5-10 dollars each, right? Well, the shop proprietor didn’t think so. Apparently my fond memories of music from bygone days weren’t worth as much as I had imagined.

Extend this idea of someone being willing to pay only what they think something is worth into the spiritual realm. An oft-repeated verse, embraced by some and scorned by others, is John 3:16, “For God so loved the worth that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” What does that say about how God values us?

Jesus Christ, God incarnate, came to earth not only to live and teach and model how to live, but also to make the once-and-for-all-atonement for the sin of mankind, that we might be redeemed – absolved of the punishment for our own wrongdoing and rebellion against God. Why? Because we’re such nice folks? Not hardly.

Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). There is, according to the Scriptures, no “plan B.” God didn’t have to pay the penalty for our sins, to “take the rap for us” as an old friend used to say. But God did. Why? Because, as John 3:16 tells us, He loved the world – and each of us – that much.

In His teachings, Jesus gave numerous examples of lost treasures – including a lost sheep, a lost coin, and a lost son. The shepherd, the owner of the missing coin, and the father of the “prodigal son” each placed premium value on what had been lost. These parables served as examples of how much God values His children, and the extremes He’s willing to take to find them and bring them into His family.

On TV’s “Antique Roadshow,” people bringing an old stool, a painting they found stashed in an attic, or a vase they inherited from Aunt Bertha are amazed to discover their seemingly ordinary object is worth hundreds, even thousands of dollars. In an even more profound sense, that’s how God sees us. We might regard ourselves as quite ordinary, but in His view we’re priceless, truly worth dying for. Think about that for a while.