There’s a Lost and Found box in the lobby of our church. It’s not big and it sits on top of a coat rack in the corner. It’s right next to our flock of stuffed sheep, so it’s not always very noticeable. We empty it every so often and any unclaimed items might find their way to new life at the thrift store or in a yard sale or, if it’s a toy, the kids’ room downstairs or even just to someone who needs it. Not much you can do with an odd glove, but sometimes it’s a pair, or a toy, a baseball hat, a sweater or sunglasses.
Things don’t get reclaimed very often. And they’re not going anywhere by themselves. They’re just sitting there, waiting to be found, probably by the person who lost them, but more often, we help them to a new life elsewhere.
That’s a little sad, though, isn’t it? If you found your way into that box, it’s because you were forgotten or misplaced and the person you belonged to either didn’t remember they brought you here, didn’t remember you at all or didn’t think it was worth the trouble finding you. You were just explained away as “lost.”
Thing is: you were found. You were found by the person who put you in the box, with the hope that someone will come for you someday or that, maybe, there’s a possibility of a new life, a new purpose somewhere new. Maybe the box should say “Lost and Found and Awaiting New Possibilities.”
In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus told short parables about a shepherd who lost one of his one hundred sheep and a woman who lost one of ten coins (Luke 15:1-10). The shepherd risked all the other sheep to find that one and the woman would not stop until she found the single coin. Both celebrated the recovery of the sheep and the coin as if they were of the greatest value to them.
Would you have done the same? Or would you have, quite sensibly, balanced the value of the thing lost with the cost of searching for it and, again quite reasonably, arrived at the conclusion that it wasn’t worth the trouble? It’s common sense, really. Some things are just so easily replaced - if, in fact, you really need it. And if you don’t, why even bother to look for it?
But Jesus tells these stories in response to the religious authorities complaining that he was spending his time with the worst kind of people, “tax collectors and sinners.” The religious authorities always seemed to be very well aware of their own righteousness and the unrighteousness of others. Why, they seem to wonder, would Jesus waste his time on “those people.” They’ve already been judged and cast aside and it just doesn’t make sense to waste time on them. They might as well get lost.
We judge and value everything because it makes sense to us to do so, from a lost glove or pair of sunglasses to people. Are they worth the trouble? What kind of effort do I have to make? Why aren’t they making more of an effort? What will it cost me? It’s their own fault, can’t they do better?
Jesus never asked those questions. Jesus loved. Jesus offered the most love to those we would judge the hardest to love. Jesus reached out to the helpless. Jesus spent his time with those that were valued the least and risked everything for them. Will we do the same?
