The Parable Of The Lost Dog
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
Series IV Cycle C
Like most of the general population, I lose things all the time. I've had to retrace my steps to retrieve my wallet full of cash, driver's license, and credit cards -- frequently this happens when I've been at the grocery store, and I leave it in the shopping cart out in the parking lot after loading groceries into the van.
We all have stories about losing keys, or reading glasses, and the like.
Sometimes we lose our sense of direction. I don't. It's not that I'm adverse to asking for directions; it's just that I don't need to, although if my wife is present in the car, I'm more likely to bow to her growing sense of anxiety and ask for help. My children, on one Father's Day, were going to get me a Garmin eTrex handheld GPS unit that would tell me where I am by using twelve satellites. But it cost too much, so they didn't.
Funny story. Last year, Chen Shu-ling, a student from Taipei, Taiwan, came to live with us while she studied for her Master's degree in marketing at the University of Colorado. She hadn't been with us for a day when she wanted to know it if would be okay if she walked the dog.
Of course, we said that would be fine. Sandy, the dog, is eleven-years-old and doesn't get walked much anyway. So have at it, we said.
An hour later, Shu-ling had not returned home with the dog. We thought that she must really enjoy walking. Two hours passed, and she still wasn't home with Sandy. So I thought I had better get out in the car and drive around in the neighborhood. I drove around for ten to fifteen minutes before I finally spotted her with Sandy. She looked tired and exhausted, but it was clear to me she would be home momentarily.
After she got back, we asked her about the walk. It was a good walk, she said, but she had gotten lost. She assumed that Sandy would know his way home and she would just walk with him wherever he wanted to go.
We laughed uproariously, because Sandy's a stupid dog that couldn't find his way home from across the street. We pictured her out there just wandering around wherever Sandy wanted to go, which was wherever there were a lot of trees and bushes to sniff and mark.
Shu-ling walks the dog often now, but never for two hours, and she always makes sure she knows precisely where she is.
So -- we lose things: wallets, keys, glasses, and our sense of direction.
What interests me, however, is that we don't always make the same effort to find what we've lost. If I lose my wallet, the search for the wallet gets a Level One Priority. It must be found. Car keys are also Level One. But a book, magazine, or the morning newspaper is Level Five. A diamond ring is Level One. A missing photograph is Level Three or higher, depending upon whom it is of and its sentimental value.
And that's the key word: value. I will spends hours looking for something that has value.
That's what the Pharisees couldn't understand. Jesus was hanging out with sinners and not hanging out with important people. They didn't understand that for Jesus -- and it should be the same for us -- the sinners of the world, the homeless, helpless, marginalized, dispossessed, and oppressed have ultimate value in the eyes of God. "So I tell you," Jesus said, "there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance" (Luke 15:10).
We look for, we help, we assist, we love, we nurture, we find -- what we value.
We all have stories about losing keys, or reading glasses, and the like.
Sometimes we lose our sense of direction. I don't. It's not that I'm adverse to asking for directions; it's just that I don't need to, although if my wife is present in the car, I'm more likely to bow to her growing sense of anxiety and ask for help. My children, on one Father's Day, were going to get me a Garmin eTrex handheld GPS unit that would tell me where I am by using twelve satellites. But it cost too much, so they didn't.
Funny story. Last year, Chen Shu-ling, a student from Taipei, Taiwan, came to live with us while she studied for her Master's degree in marketing at the University of Colorado. She hadn't been with us for a day when she wanted to know it if would be okay if she walked the dog.
Of course, we said that would be fine. Sandy, the dog, is eleven-years-old and doesn't get walked much anyway. So have at it, we said.
An hour later, Shu-ling had not returned home with the dog. We thought that she must really enjoy walking. Two hours passed, and she still wasn't home with Sandy. So I thought I had better get out in the car and drive around in the neighborhood. I drove around for ten to fifteen minutes before I finally spotted her with Sandy. She looked tired and exhausted, but it was clear to me she would be home momentarily.
After she got back, we asked her about the walk. It was a good walk, she said, but she had gotten lost. She assumed that Sandy would know his way home and she would just walk with him wherever he wanted to go.
We laughed uproariously, because Sandy's a stupid dog that couldn't find his way home from across the street. We pictured her out there just wandering around wherever Sandy wanted to go, which was wherever there were a lot of trees and bushes to sniff and mark.
Shu-ling walks the dog often now, but never for two hours, and she always makes sure she knows precisely where she is.
So -- we lose things: wallets, keys, glasses, and our sense of direction.
What interests me, however, is that we don't always make the same effort to find what we've lost. If I lose my wallet, the search for the wallet gets a Level One Priority. It must be found. Car keys are also Level One. But a book, magazine, or the morning newspaper is Level Five. A diamond ring is Level One. A missing photograph is Level Three or higher, depending upon whom it is of and its sentimental value.
And that's the key word: value. I will spends hours looking for something that has value.
That's what the Pharisees couldn't understand. Jesus was hanging out with sinners and not hanging out with important people. They didn't understand that for Jesus -- and it should be the same for us -- the sinners of the world, the homeless, helpless, marginalized, dispossessed, and oppressed have ultimate value in the eyes of God. "So I tell you," Jesus said, "there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance" (Luke 15:10).
We look for, we help, we assist, we love, we nurture, we find -- what we value.
