I believe that religion should make you a better person.
I grew up in a religious home. I wasn't in the same room with a bottle of alcohol until I attended a non-religious wedding in my early teens. I assumed that rules were a big part of our religion. My mother would read our Holy Scriptures each morning while oatmeal cooked on the stovetop. Our kitchen was always very cold, and I remember sitting wrapped in a warm blanket, eating hot oatmeal, and listening to my mother's beautiful voice read words from the Psalms. I assumed that comfort was a big part of our religion.
In the first sermon I remember, our pastor told the story of the only Jewish family in a town. They put a Menorah in their window and someone punished them for this by throwing a brick through their window. The next day, every Christian home on the block had lit a Menorah in their window. I loved this story. I knew deep down in my little heart that my family would have put up a Menorah if we lived on that street.
As my little heart grew, I accepted the religion of my family as my own. For a long time I lived a religious life in order to be religious. I told a girl that she was going to hell, once. I regret those words more than any other I have ever spoken.
My understanding of religion was making me a worse person. I assumed that religion was about rules and my own comfort. As I began to read the words of Jesus more closely I realized that I had misunderstood almost everything. The Christian religion wasn't about rules and it wasn't about my comfort.
Religion has made me a better person. It has taught me to love people - even people who don't look, act, or think like me. Even people who don't make as much money as me. Even people who believe a different religion than me. I'm no longer worried about my own comfort - I would be happier if the homeless kids I work with were to find comfort than if I had it myself.
Religion continues to make me a better person. I still have a lot of room for improvement! In this world of terrorism and Quaran burnings and hate-speeches coming from the mouths of the religious elite; I am reminded every day of my strongest held belief. I am reminded that religion should make you a better person.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
What a crummy cross.
In our "Youth to Jesus" student center, we keep a cross on one of the walls. It's two pieces of old wood that are tied together. I don't know where it came from, or how it came about - but I love it's presence in our space.
About two years ago we had a small explosion in our stairway. We had to replace our large door, and apparently this event signaled a welcome to the community to come and inspect our space and see what we were all about. I've been told that dozens of people streamed through our space. And one comment was consistent. "What a crummy cross." "What kind of church would have a cross like that?" "Couldn't you find a nicer cross to hang up than that one?"
Apparently dipping the thing in gold for the last 2000 years has made a number of people forget that the cross was an execution device of severe cruelty. But I love the idea of the crummy cross.
The headlines blare out more scandalous gossip. It's a familiar song and all the kids have the dance moves down pat. Right-wing Pastor of mega-church is accused of wild, sexual misconduct. I don't know anything about this pastor, and while I assume I would probably stand in opposition to some of his views; I genuinely feel bad for the guy.
Being a spiritual leader is tough. Being a spiritual leader to 30,000+ people is impossible. He might be a good CEO and he might be able to control his image and empire well - but at 30,000 congregants, you are no longer providing spiritual care. One downside powerful people face is the fact that vulnerable people surround them and expect them to show all restraint. The stress and pressure combined with the power make a downfall almost inevitable. What a crummy cross.
Olya and I had just finished our meeting. We closed in prayer and she volunteered to help me exchange some train tickets and purchase new ones at the ticket office. There's a lot of complicated language in such an event and I was thankful for the help. Olya co-leads the language ministry at our center and she's passionate and strong. When we got to the train station I didn't think and I opened my wallet and handed her some money to buy the tickets. I immediately got "the look" from three on-lookers. The "you're a dirty old man" look. Olya wears a bit too much eye make-up and she was wearing heals and I look older than I am and we were speaking English. Everyone who saw me hand her money immediately assumed that they were witnessing a familiar transaction. They assumed that I was giving money to the prostitute I had managed to find in L'viv. What a crummy cross.
Christine O'Donnell doesn't think that people should masturbate. Her logic is debatable, and she really has to reach around for scriptural support - but she genuinely believes it and is willing to put her neck on the line for it. What a crummy cross.
Mother Teresa was filled with doubt. Christopher Hitchens has gone to the Vatican to fight against her canonization. He believes that Mama T was a shameless self-promoter who managed to trick the world into believing in her false piety. I imagine that if she were alive, those accusations would throw her into another bout of depression she was so used to. What a crummy cross.
These are the faces of Christianity. Whether this is how we would like the world to see us is completely not up to us. These are people whom God has forgiven and whom God loves uncontrollably. These are people whom others identify as followers of Christ.
In the end, we must remember that the cross was not shiny and perfect - the cross was ugly and scarred and disgusting. The cross was only made beautiful through the resurrection. Our lives are ugly and scarred and disgusting. Even our Christian lives. Even our forgiven lives. They can only be made beautiful through the resurrection.
Amen.
About two years ago we had a small explosion in our stairway. We had to replace our large door, and apparently this event signaled a welcome to the community to come and inspect our space and see what we were all about. I've been told that dozens of people streamed through our space. And one comment was consistent. "What a crummy cross." "What kind of church would have a cross like that?" "Couldn't you find a nicer cross to hang up than that one?"
Apparently dipping the thing in gold for the last 2000 years has made a number of people forget that the cross was an execution device of severe cruelty. But I love the idea of the crummy cross.
The headlines blare out more scandalous gossip. It's a familiar song and all the kids have the dance moves down pat. Right-wing Pastor of mega-church is accused of wild, sexual misconduct. I don't know anything about this pastor, and while I assume I would probably stand in opposition to some of his views; I genuinely feel bad for the guy.
Being a spiritual leader is tough. Being a spiritual leader to 30,000+ people is impossible. He might be a good CEO and he might be able to control his image and empire well - but at 30,000 congregants, you are no longer providing spiritual care. One downside powerful people face is the fact that vulnerable people surround them and expect them to show all restraint. The stress and pressure combined with the power make a downfall almost inevitable. What a crummy cross.
Olya and I had just finished our meeting. We closed in prayer and she volunteered to help me exchange some train tickets and purchase new ones at the ticket office. There's a lot of complicated language in such an event and I was thankful for the help. Olya co-leads the language ministry at our center and she's passionate and strong. When we got to the train station I didn't think and I opened my wallet and handed her some money to buy the tickets. I immediately got "the look" from three on-lookers. The "you're a dirty old man" look. Olya wears a bit too much eye make-up and she was wearing heals and I look older than I am and we were speaking English. Everyone who saw me hand her money immediately assumed that they were witnessing a familiar transaction. They assumed that I was giving money to the prostitute I had managed to find in L'viv. What a crummy cross.
Christine O'Donnell doesn't think that people should masturbate. Her logic is debatable, and she really has to reach around for scriptural support - but she genuinely believes it and is willing to put her neck on the line for it. What a crummy cross.
Mother Teresa was filled with doubt. Christopher Hitchens has gone to the Vatican to fight against her canonization. He believes that Mama T was a shameless self-promoter who managed to trick the world into believing in her false piety. I imagine that if she were alive, those accusations would throw her into another bout of depression she was so used to. What a crummy cross.
These are the faces of Christianity. Whether this is how we would like the world to see us is completely not up to us. These are people whom God has forgiven and whom God loves uncontrollably. These are people whom others identify as followers of Christ.
In the end, we must remember that the cross was not shiny and perfect - the cross was ugly and scarred and disgusting. The cross was only made beautiful through the resurrection. Our lives are ugly and scarred and disgusting. Even our Christian lives. Even our forgiven lives. They can only be made beautiful through the resurrection.
Amen.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
I look forward to this ...
I am already writing a story or theological treatise to keep up with the next phase of technology.
Sermon St. Luke's UMC Kyiv.
I'm preaching this Sunday at St. Luke's UMC in Kyiv. This was a very difficult sermon to write. The lectionary scripture for the week tells the story of the rich man and Lazarus. It deals with socio-economic issues - and the church in Kyiv is comprised of people in poverty. Because I come from America I am instantly categorized as being wealthy - so this creates quite a strange dynamic. The rich man will preach to Lazarus about why being rich isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Essentially.
Also, the translator isn't super confident so the language is simple. Maryanna Yatsik and I have created a magazine to tell the story. On the cover is a rich person to grab people's attention, but inside is the story of Lazarus and the rich man in paintings, photographs, and drawings. It will help to give another layer to the story.
Lazarus
Luke 16:19-31
16:19 "There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day.
And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores.
The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side.
He called out, 'Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.' But Abraham said, 'Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony.
Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.' He said, 'Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father's house-- for I have five brothers--that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.'
Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.' He said, 'No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.' He said to him, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'"
Jesus begins this story with a hook. “There once was a rich man.”
We love stories about rich people. The gossip columns only talk about poor folk if they were rich at one point. Magazines feature stories about rich people, pictures of their houses, and even information about their pets. Stories about rich people sell magazines and get people’s attention.
But then Jesus turns the story upside down.
This is a story about two people, but only one of them is important – and it’s not the one we would think. We never learn the name of the rich man. This is a story about Lazarus. Poor, poor, Lazarus.
Yes, there’s a really rich man in this story – but his name’s not important. The hero of our story is Lazarus. Poor, poor, Lazarus. The man who lies on the street in front of the mansion and begs for scraps of food – he’s our hero. The man with sores all over his body, the man who can’t afford medical care, the man who is so pitiable that even the dogs lick his wounds. He, Lazarus, is the hero of this story.
For Lazarus lived a good life. He loved God and he loved people. Lazarus probably even cared for the dogs that licked his wounds. Lazarus didn’t have anything in the world, but he had treasure in heaven. The people who were listening to Jesus were Pharisees – and they were lovers of money. They were people who would see Lazarus on the ground and would step over him in order to go and sit and visit with the rich man.
Our story begins with the death of two men. First poor Lazarus dies and enters his reward in heaven. Then the other guy, the rich one, also dies … and ends up in hell.
The rich man in hell asks Abraham to send help. But Abraham refuses. In life, the two men had lived very different lives. The rich one had already lived his reward. And Lazarus had only wanted the scraps off of the rich man’s table. The rich man asks that Lazarus be allowed to dip his finger and cool his tongue with it – the equivalent of giving scraps off the table.
Abraham says that it’s too far – no one can cross from heaven to hell. So the rich man asks that Lazarus be sent to warn the rich man’s family. Abraham also says no to this. The rich man’s family has the law and the prophets – they wouldn’t listen even if someone should rise from the dead.
When we read stories of rich people – we usually know the outcome. Rich people get whatever they want. Their money makes their crimes disappear, their children get jobs they could never earn, and even the roads they drive on are nicer than the roads we ride on.
But in this story the rich man is told no. No. No. No. He offers different solutions, and each time Abraham tells him no.
Now, this story isn’t an original story that Jesus told. It was a common story 2000 years ago. People were familiar with this story. But, Jesus changed the ending. In the story that people knew the rich man got what he wanted and Lazarus went to his five brothers to warn them. In Jesus’ version Abraham says “no” even to that request. They have the law and the prophets. They wouldn’t listen “even if someone should rise from the dead.”
And this is the big finish. Because, who rises from the dead? Jesus rises from the dead. And even if someone should rise from the dead – some will still ignore him.
This is a story of faithfulness. Yes, Lazarus was a poor man - but he wasn't in paradise because of the smallness of his checkbook. He was in paradise because of the largeness of his heart. He was faithful to the law and the prophets and heaven was his reward. The rich man wasn't in he'll because of his wealth. He was in hell because his wealth made him forget that he needed God.
It’s easy to forget where everything came from. Statistics tell us that most people feel they would be happy if ONLY they earned 30% more than they did. They did a survey in which they asked people how much money they would have to make in order to be truly happy. Most people said about 30% more than they were making at the time. If someone was making 1000 UAH, they probably felt they could be truly happy if they were making 1300 UAH. If someone was making a million UAH, they felt they could be happy at 1.3 million UAH. There’s something in all of us that just wants a little more than what we have.
Even a small amount of wealth can make us forget our need for God. There was a man in West Virginia who had always been rather poor. He had a wife and two children who loved him very much. Then one day he won the lottery – and he was sure that his life would finally be better. He couldn’t have been more wrong. His life did change. He suddenly had money and he ended up using it to buy expensive drugs and prostitutes. His wife left him and took the children. He was arrested and sent to prison. After he got out of prison he quickly spent millions of dollars on things he didn’t need. The only people who would talk to him were people who wanted access to his money. Soon enough he ran out of money and quickly found himself in the exact same spot he had been just a few years before – except now he had no job, no family, and no faith in God.
How quickly would we forget God if we felt that we provided our daily bread instead of God?
It’s easy for us to think that our problems would go away if we had more money. But that’s a lie. That’s a lie that too many of us believe. Our scripture today teaches that we will be doing a lot better if we are faithful. If we listen to the law and the prophets – yes, we will still be poor- we will be rich in faith and in love for one another. And really, could there be anything better than that?
Essentially.
Also, the translator isn't super confident so the language is simple. Maryanna Yatsik and I have created a magazine to tell the story. On the cover is a rich person to grab people's attention, but inside is the story of Lazarus and the rich man in paintings, photographs, and drawings. It will help to give another layer to the story.
Lazarus
Luke 16:19-31
16:19 "There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day.
And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores.
The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side.
He called out, 'Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.' But Abraham said, 'Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony.
Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.' He said, 'Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father's house-- for I have five brothers--that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.'
Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.' He said, 'No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.' He said to him, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'"
Jesus begins this story with a hook. “There once was a rich man.”
We love stories about rich people. The gossip columns only talk about poor folk if they were rich at one point. Magazines feature stories about rich people, pictures of their houses, and even information about their pets. Stories about rich people sell magazines and get people’s attention.
But then Jesus turns the story upside down.
This is a story about two people, but only one of them is important – and it’s not the one we would think. We never learn the name of the rich man. This is a story about Lazarus. Poor, poor, Lazarus.
Yes, there’s a really rich man in this story – but his name’s not important. The hero of our story is Lazarus. Poor, poor, Lazarus. The man who lies on the street in front of the mansion and begs for scraps of food – he’s our hero. The man with sores all over his body, the man who can’t afford medical care, the man who is so pitiable that even the dogs lick his wounds. He, Lazarus, is the hero of this story.
For Lazarus lived a good life. He loved God and he loved people. Lazarus probably even cared for the dogs that licked his wounds. Lazarus didn’t have anything in the world, but he had treasure in heaven. The people who were listening to Jesus were Pharisees – and they were lovers of money. They were people who would see Lazarus on the ground and would step over him in order to go and sit and visit with the rich man.
Our story begins with the death of two men. First poor Lazarus dies and enters his reward in heaven. Then the other guy, the rich one, also dies … and ends up in hell.
The rich man in hell asks Abraham to send help. But Abraham refuses. In life, the two men had lived very different lives. The rich one had already lived his reward. And Lazarus had only wanted the scraps off of the rich man’s table. The rich man asks that Lazarus be allowed to dip his finger and cool his tongue with it – the equivalent of giving scraps off the table.
Abraham says that it’s too far – no one can cross from heaven to hell. So the rich man asks that Lazarus be sent to warn the rich man’s family. Abraham also says no to this. The rich man’s family has the law and the prophets – they wouldn’t listen even if someone should rise from the dead.
When we read stories of rich people – we usually know the outcome. Rich people get whatever they want. Their money makes their crimes disappear, their children get jobs they could never earn, and even the roads they drive on are nicer than the roads we ride on.
But in this story the rich man is told no. No. No. No. He offers different solutions, and each time Abraham tells him no.
Now, this story isn’t an original story that Jesus told. It was a common story 2000 years ago. People were familiar with this story. But, Jesus changed the ending. In the story that people knew the rich man got what he wanted and Lazarus went to his five brothers to warn them. In Jesus’ version Abraham says “no” even to that request. They have the law and the prophets. They wouldn’t listen “even if someone should rise from the dead.”
And this is the big finish. Because, who rises from the dead? Jesus rises from the dead. And even if someone should rise from the dead – some will still ignore him.
This is a story of faithfulness. Yes, Lazarus was a poor man - but he wasn't in paradise because of the smallness of his checkbook. He was in paradise because of the largeness of his heart. He was faithful to the law and the prophets and heaven was his reward. The rich man wasn't in he'll because of his wealth. He was in hell because his wealth made him forget that he needed God.
It’s easy to forget where everything came from. Statistics tell us that most people feel they would be happy if ONLY they earned 30% more than they did. They did a survey in which they asked people how much money they would have to make in order to be truly happy. Most people said about 30% more than they were making at the time. If someone was making 1000 UAH, they probably felt they could be truly happy if they were making 1300 UAH. If someone was making a million UAH, they felt they could be happy at 1.3 million UAH. There’s something in all of us that just wants a little more than what we have.
Even a small amount of wealth can make us forget our need for God. There was a man in West Virginia who had always been rather poor. He had a wife and two children who loved him very much. Then one day he won the lottery – and he was sure that his life would finally be better. He couldn’t have been more wrong. His life did change. He suddenly had money and he ended up using it to buy expensive drugs and prostitutes. His wife left him and took the children. He was arrested and sent to prison. After he got out of prison he quickly spent millions of dollars on things he didn’t need. The only people who would talk to him were people who wanted access to his money. Soon enough he ran out of money and quickly found himself in the exact same spot he had been just a few years before – except now he had no job, no family, and no faith in God.
How quickly would we forget God if we felt that we provided our daily bread instead of God?
It’s easy for us to think that our problems would go away if we had more money. But that’s a lie. That’s a lie that too many of us believe. Our scripture today teaches that we will be doing a lot better if we are faithful. If we listen to the law and the prophets – yes, we will still be poor- we will be rich in faith and in love for one another. And really, could there be anything better than that?
Monday, September 20, 2010
Barber Shop
I don't let anyone cut my hair who didn't also personally cut Stalin's hair.
There are two types of places where men can get a hair cut in Ukraine.
The first is a place like "Very Modern." It's where men go who want their hair dyed, styled, or groomed. Scruffy looking men go in and exit with fabulous Bieberesque quaffs. The owner/manager looks out of place in any place. His clothes could walk down a runway in Milan but his hair could saunter out of a trailer in Alabama. Men can either explain which style their would enjoy, or just entrust the responsibility to the vision of the maestro.
The second option is a place like "Men's Hall." Men go there to get their hair cut. Like, they go in with hair and they leave without it. Only one style escapes the Men's Hall; and that style is ready for war or skinhead parades. The barber is ancient. He uses a strait edge razor to clean up around your ears and then rubs pure alcohol onto the razor burns - all with shaky hands. I go there because I don't have to explain what I want. I mean, that's not an option at this place. You sit down, shut up, and enjoy your damn haircut.
Now, I think this is interesting because these two very different hair cut experiences are both making money in this city. Men who go to one would never go to the other. I like my barber to be 80+ and I wouldn't be caught dead getting my hair styled by mullet-man at "very modern." But for a lot of people, the idea of having a very old man shave their head sounds like a horrific experience.
We are quick to assume that what works for us is best. We even come to the conclusion that it is the only valid option. We think that if we are doing something new that it is the trend of the future and everyone should get on board. This is especially true in the church. We either assume that the other group is sacrilegious or stuffy. I think that both of these views are wrong.
In the same way that I hope neither place for a men's haircut puts the other out of business, I hope that neither style of worship or church "wins" out. I hope that they both succeed together and learn from each other.
Because in the end, either way, the result is what matters. Did a scruffy looking guy end up with better hair? Good - he had a haircut. Did a group come together to help each other connect with God? Good - we've had church.
There are two types of places where men can get a hair cut in Ukraine.
The first is a place like "Very Modern." It's where men go who want their hair dyed, styled, or groomed. Scruffy looking men go in and exit with fabulous Bieberesque quaffs. The owner/manager looks out of place in any place. His clothes could walk down a runway in Milan but his hair could saunter out of a trailer in Alabama. Men can either explain which style their would enjoy, or just entrust the responsibility to the vision of the maestro.
The second option is a place like "Men's Hall." Men go there to get their hair cut. Like, they go in with hair and they leave without it. Only one style escapes the Men's Hall; and that style is ready for war or skinhead parades. The barber is ancient. He uses a strait edge razor to clean up around your ears and then rubs pure alcohol onto the razor burns - all with shaky hands. I go there because I don't have to explain what I want. I mean, that's not an option at this place. You sit down, shut up, and enjoy your damn haircut.
Now, I think this is interesting because these two very different hair cut experiences are both making money in this city. Men who go to one would never go to the other. I like my barber to be 80+ and I wouldn't be caught dead getting my hair styled by mullet-man at "very modern." But for a lot of people, the idea of having a very old man shave their head sounds like a horrific experience.
We are quick to assume that what works for us is best. We even come to the conclusion that it is the only valid option. We think that if we are doing something new that it is the trend of the future and everyone should get on board. This is especially true in the church. We either assume that the other group is sacrilegious or stuffy. I think that both of these views are wrong.
In the same way that I hope neither place for a men's haircut puts the other out of business, I hope that neither style of worship or church "wins" out. I hope that they both succeed together and learn from each other.
Because in the end, either way, the result is what matters. Did a scruffy looking guy end up with better hair? Good - he had a haircut. Did a group come together to help each other connect with God? Good - we've had church.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Baby
Oddly enough, I feel quite small when I hold Jesse. At four months old, he is the perfect age to be held. His neck is strong and I'm not afraid of hurting him, but everything in his eyes screams the word "Precocious!" While David and Shannon and I munch on Ukrainian food worth far more than we pay, our facial expressions go from serious to gloopy as we catch eyes with Jesse sitting on our laps. From angry face to cooing sounds in the twinkle of an eye - someone's very special eyes.
I feel so small - to know that I was at one time just as small as baby Jesse. To know that once I needed EVERYTHING done for me. To know that God still catches eyes with me, and that God's face lights up in the same way that mine does - but for reasons far beyond mine.
I feel so small - to know that I was at one time just as small as baby Jesse. To know that once I needed EVERYTHING done for me. To know that God still catches eyes with me, and that God's face lights up in the same way that mine does - but for reasons far beyond mine.
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Standard Umbrella Height
I only resent my height when it rains. While most prominently noticed while living in Korea - it is a common fact that my eyes reside at Standard Umbrella Height(SUH). SUH is an international phenomenon. It seems that when rain appears, any level of decorum vanishes like the Wicked Witch of the West. On a normal day in Ukraine, only 4 or 5 people would physically push me in an attempt to jockey for better position. On a rainy day - with the full force of umbrella tentacles in my eyes - at least a dozen people feel free to push through me. Even though I am defenseless against the rain, umbrellaed people feel no moral qualm in pushing me out of their way or, at the very least, poking me in the eye with the points of their umbrella.
Friday, September 03, 2010
Ally, Ally, in come free.
Luke 15:1-10
15:1 Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him.And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them."
So he told them this parable:
"Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.'
Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.
"Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.'
Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents."
I’ve never raised sheep. I grew up in the village, and I spent summers on my Aunt and Uncle’s farm – but we only ever had a few sheep at a time. I remember them as dirty animals and rather stupid. We raised cows. I really love cows. They are smart and have great personalities.
Aunt Sharol and Uncle Terry had about 80 cows for most of my childhood. We would milk them every day and feed them twice a day. When we first arrived every summer I would be terrified of the cows. When you’re a little kid – cows are HUGE animals. Uncle Terry relished in sharing stories of cows gone wild – always ending with a little boy getting trampled for not minding the adults around him. I was also disgusted by the smell. Farms smell really bad.
But after the first week or two of returning to the farm, I would get used to the animals again. I wouldn’t mind the smell and I would begin to get to know the cows. On our farm, cows are named using the first letter of the first name of their mother.
Lady was the mother of Lucky who was the mother of Lucy. It’s a good system to keep things organized. The summer I was 7 Lucy was pregnant and Aunt Sharol and Uncle
Terry promised me that I could name her baby calf. It had to start with an L.
This was a very important task and I spent my days with Lucy getting to know her personality. I would sing to Lucy at night to make sure she was comfortable. One night Uncle Terry sent me to bed and told me that Lucy would probably have her baby the next day.
It was like Christmas morning – I woke up at 5 AM giddy with excitement. After feeding the cows and eating a big breakfast, though, I began to get sleepy. I fell asleep on the dining room floor. I woke up to the sound of Uncle Terry stomping through the house. Something was wrong.
It was time for Lucy to deliver, but she wasn’t in the barn. Maybe she had wandered off, maybe the dogs or a wolf had chased her off, but she was somewhere in the pasture and she was having her baby. We called and we called, but she didn’t come in. She was lost. And without help she would lose her baby as well.
We gathered together and made a plan. Our families would go out and search the entire farm. We spread out and walked through the pasture. I was with my cousin Kimberly. She was 11 years older than me and practically an adult. Kimberly walked quickly through the pasture – she knew how to avoid the “mud pies” , a skill I hadn’t developed yet – and I tried to keep up. After an hour or more, we saw some movement off in the distance. Kimberly began to run, and I began screaming with excitement.
Lucy had given birth to her baby, but it wasn’t doing well. Cousin Kimberly threw the calf over her shoulders and ran to the barn. My sister, mom, and I walked with Lucy back to the barn – just hoping that the baby would live.
We got back to the barn and Uncle Terry came to meet us. He said, “Well, Michael, what are we gonna name it?” I was thrilled. The calf had survived and I finally had my chance to name a cow; even if it was a little sickly. I named her Liberty Bell.
My family had been to Philadelphia the week before, and I was so impressed by the bell that had been wrung at the moment of my countries independence - wrung so loudly that it cracked. Even though the Bell was cracked, it still represented our freedom. So, her official name was Liberty Bell – but we all called her liberty.
There’s a sense of freedom in being found.
We read these stories and they remind us of lost and found moments in our own lives. That time that a wallet was returned after a very scary week without money. We read these two stories in a row and we think, “yes – God searches out what is lost” and we move on with our lives. We should slow down. These stories are very different and they tell us very different things about God and our relationship with God.
The woman and her silver coins appears to be a straightforward “lost and found story.” We’ve all lost money – it’s a terrible experience. But when we look at the story in depth; some questions arise. Why is it a woman and not just a person? Why the specific number? Why?
These silver coins are more than money – these were the adornment of coins that women wore. This was her dowry. She would have never removed these 10 coins from her body – even when she was asleep. These 10 coins defined who she was. They defined her future and her present purity. Losing one of these coins was a very big deal.
My mother once lost the diamond out of her wedding ring. For days she was agitated and upset. She searched the house from top to bottom several times. The diamond in her ring is probably not so valuable – my parents aren’t wealthy and they certainly were not wealthy 30 years ago when they got married. The diamond was valuable to my mother because it was a symbol – it was a symbol that her marriage vows are forever – like a diamond. The diamond had been with her for all the years of her marriage – it represented who she was as a person. When she saw a sparkle out of the corner of her eye she rejoiced as she picked the diamond out of a rug where it had fallen almost a week before.
She regained her identity as a wife.
The story of the woman and her 10 coins tells us that God will search for us – but it tells us so much more. Jesus tells us that God finds identity in the act of finding us. We are valuable to God – we symbolize who God is. We are a symbol of who God is.
The story of the 99 is even more intriguing.
Which one of you who has 100 grieven, finding that he only has 99 leaves the pile of money behind to search for the 1.
(At this point, I will set 99 UAH down on a table and begin to search for the 1. I will have a few people ready to begin taking some of the money from the stack.)
Okay, maybe I left it in the office (have more people take more money).
Found it. I found it. Everything is good! I found the UAH! Hooray!
"Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?”
Which of us? Really? None of us would do this! We would never leave 99 perfectly good sheep to the threats of nature in order to save 1 lamb that got away.
In the story of the woman and her 10 silver coins we learn that God will clean the house to search for us when we are lost. God will search in the same ways we would to get back that which is lost. In this story we learn that God will go much further than we would.
We enjoy safety and comfort. God is willing to take risks.
God is willing to risk everything for the salvation of the world.
Everything.
Even his only son.
So we can compare these stories with our own moments of lost and found - buy we must
go much further. Not only will God search like we will - God will search much deeper. God will find meaning and purpose in our salvation.
Jesus, by eating dinner with sinners and tax-collectors is showing the level of risk that God is willing to take. Jesus is willing to let go of any status and prestige he has. My parent’s constantly reminded me that they had worked hard to build a good name for our family and that I was not to destroy it by hanging out with the “wrong people.” Jesus cares enough about the lost that he is willing to risk his standing with those who have already been found.
The Jewish leaders lost any respect they had for Jesus as they watched him eating and drinking with sinner. No one who loved God would do this.
Jesus knew that everything had to change. Until this point, the Jewish community only reached out by allowing others in. They never went out and told others about God. Only when an inquirer came in would a Jewish person be willing to tell them about the good news of God. With Jesus this changed. We are directly commanded to go out – to leave these four walls behind – and to tell people the good news.
We’re not supposed to wait until interested people show up at Pilgrims and then tell them about God. We are supposed to take risks. We are supposed to go out and eat and drink with sinners and share the good news of the God who is searching for them. Of the God who takes risks for them.
I don't know where you are in your life - but I know where God is. God is searching. God is searching for his little lost lamb. God is searching for her tenth coin. God is searching for you and your heart. Your safety and your salvation.
When I was young the neighborhood kids would play flashlight tag. We would wait until dark and one person would be "it" and, with flashlight in hand, would try to find everyone before they made it back to "home base."
As a kid, when I heard these stories of lost and found – or of the idea that Jesus was searching for me- I would always think of this game - that I was hiding in the dark and afraid that Jesus would find me. I thought that God wanted to punish me for my sins. I was so afraid that the shepherd would find the lamb and punish it for running away – that God would find me and punish me for my sins. My whole idea of God was wrong.
Our game had one other rule. If you wanted the game to end for some reason – maybe it had gone on for too long because someone had a really good hiding spot, or maybe someone’s mother had called them home, or for whatever reason - anyone could shout "ally, ally, in come free!". It meant that we could all come back to home - no running or penalties or fear. But it also meant that the person who called it automatically became “it” for the next round. Even if you were home safely – if you called “ally, ally, in come free” you were it.
This is closer to God searching for us. It’s not some attempt to find us and punish us. It’s an end to the game. You get to come home free and Jesus takes the punishment of having lost the game – even though he hadn’t lost the game.
Our busy lives seem to resemble a game gone terribly wrong. We work all day and night for goals that don’t really matter. We hide in all the wrong places and we misunderstand what God is all about. God feels its time that we stop playing the game and start living life to the fullest.
When God risked everything and sent his son - God finished the game. The cry goes out, ally ally in come free.
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