In Luke 15, the Savior gives three parables of things that are lost and then found - a sheep, a coin, and a son. In the first two parables, we see things mostly from the point of view of the one who is trying to find that which is lost. With the third parable, we get a little more insight into what the one who was lost must have been feeling, but I want to consider the perspective of that which is lost in all three parables. In the Parable of the lost sheep, we aren’t told how the one got separated from the ninety and nine. Perhaps it got distracted, perhaps it fell asleep. Or maybe it was slow and weak and wanted with all of its heart to keep up with the flock but could only watch with hopelessness as it began to lag farther and farther behind. So many of us desire with all of our hearts to be full-fledged disciples of Jesus Christ. We want to keep up with the best of them, always attending every meeting, always holding family home evenings that never devolve into brawls or backbiting, always paying an honest tithe and a generous fast offering, advancing from success to success without any loss of momentum or enthusiasm. But like that one sheep that was weaker and slower than everyone else, we find that we have lost sight of the flock and the Good Shepherd. I like to imagine that even if the sheep had no hope of catching up, even if the sheep was no longer certain in which direction the flock had gone, it kept on going, kept on trying to return to the fold. It is a hard thing to still try to do what we know to be right to the best of our ability when we are lost and alone, but after we have done all that we can do to get back to the fold, we are saved by the Grace of the Good Shepherd Who noticed our absence and went looking for us. But what if we are already where we need to be? In the Parable of the Lost Coin, the coin did not leave its Master’s house. The coin was in the place that it needed to be and it still retained its value. Many of us are living quiet lives of virtue and righteousness. We do what is right and we put our shoulder to the wheel and we lift where we stand and all of our efforts seem largely to go unnoticed. We cast in our two mites - all that we have - and then we continue on doing what is right. It can be hard to be lost in this way. While others are walking around collecting treasures on earth and basking in the praise of men, we toil in secret - sometimes too much secret - and lay up treasures in heaven. It is difficult to lay aside our doubts and our insecurities and trust that our Heavenly Father sees us being no less serviceable than our brothers and sisters and that He is pleased with our efforts and none of our sacrifices are lost on Him. A coin is still a coin, whether it is sitting safe and sound in a vault or slipped beneath one of the floorboards gathering dust. As long as we are in our Father’s house, whether we are gleaming prominently on the mantelpiece or stuck between the couch cushions, we have this promise that our Father will find us - and find a use for us - eventually. But what about when we become lost not because we could not keep up, or because our efforts seem to go unnoticed, but because we made a deliberate choice to abandon our Father and His house? We aren’t told if the Prodigal Son’s father ever left his home to find his son and plead with him to come back, nor are we told if his brother, dissatisfied by the grief and misery in which the Prodigal Son had left their family, tracked him down and told him to get his act together and come back home, his words of brotherly love more than a little tinged with bitterness and chastisement. Either way, there were none that came to find him. This kind of lost requires the greatest level of persistence of all. The sheep and the coin just had to hold on until the Master found them. The Prodigal Son had to find himself. It is an imperfect thing, this self-finding. The Prodigal Son knew he wanted to go back home but was convinced that he had lost forever his membership in his father’s household. The best he could hope for, and even as he tried to eat the scraps the pigs left behind yet still, incredibly, he hoped, hoped that if he could not come home he could at least be a servant, at least be near his home and his family. But this is not how true finding works. The shepherd did not keep the one lost sheep in its own separate pen away from the ninety and nine. The woman who lost a coin did not angrily throw it in the junk drawer. Whether we have fallen behind or gone unnoticed or have deliberately wandered off, our Savior will eventually find us and the heavens will have more joy when we have finally been found again.
