PROPER 19-C, September 16, 2007

If the truth were told, every one of us has been that lost sheep. Every one of us has at one time or another strayed from the fold. Maybe we did not go too far or maybe we wandered off so far that we totally lost our way. Maybe we were somewhere in between. Maybe we are there right now, in that in-between, not sure of our faith but not so unsure that we can’t see the rest of the sheep or the shepherd.

Faith is a gift from God. Why we believe is a question that cannot be answered fully. We can probably give better reasons why not to believe than reasons to believe. It’s like love: it is better to not try to tell the one we love why we love than to begin the telling. Faith like love is better accepted than understood. Yet, when love wanes, when faith is tested, we sometimes become unsure if we truly love, if we honestly believe. Or perhaps it is that we want to love and want to believe but are not sure that we can or do.

The sheep who wonders off, who gets separated from the flock, usually does not separate himself deliberately. The separation begins gradually. Then, before we know it, we’re off by ourselves, alone, lost, wondering how we ever got to where we now are, hoping someone will come and get us, even as we insist that we don’t need anyone else, especially we don’t need those sheep we just moved away from.

But we do and we know we do. And it is a good thing that Jesus never leaves us alone, that he comes after us to bring us back. But Jesus does so mostly in and through other people. If we reflect back on those times when we have felt lost and alone, we will no doubt discover that we were found by someone else, someone who set out looking for us, someone, if the truth be told, sent by Jesus to go get us and bring us back. We may be lost, may have lost our way, but God will never allow us to be lost forever.

That’s the good news. The other part of that news is that just as others have shepherded us, found us, brought us back when we were lost, so, too, must we play the shepherd to others who have lost their way or who have been looking to find that something (really, that someone) who has been missing from their lives. We may be sinners, you and I. We may wander away from God, you and I. But God never gives up on us.

That, I think, is the point of the second parable Jesus tells in today’s Gospel reading. A woman loses one of her ten silver coins. She is frantic. She searches the house, sweeps it down, in search of the coin. The when she finds it, she calls her friends together and then throws a party to celebrate the recovery of the lost coin. One has to shake one’s head, scratch it even, trying to understand what is going on here. I do not ever remember being invited to a party by a friend who lost something valuable and then found it again and now wants to celebrate his good fortune.

It happens, I am sure, and I understand – once the details are understood. It was the custom for Palestinian women to receive ten silver coins as a wedding present. The coins may not have had much monetary value, but they were invaluable to those who received them. If a wife lost one of those coins, it was like losing part of herself.

The coins were more symbolic than truly valuable. But we all understand do we not? We all have personal treasures that we cherish, treasurers that mean everything to us but would have little or no meaning to anyone else. In this parable that point is quite obvious. In God’s eyes each and every one of us is like that lost coin. We are of infinite value. God does not take our being lost from him lightly. God will look for us until God finds us. And when we return to God, God rejoices.

That is Jesus’ point. But that is not his only point. Yes, we are infinitely valuable in God’s eyes. But at the same time we must never lose sight of the fact, no pun intended, that we should be of infinite value in our own eyes. Sometimes, sadly, we do lose sight. Sometimes we do things, sin in such a way, that we are embarrassed to even look at ourselves in the mirror. We can’t believe we did what we did. We can hardly forgive ourselves for it. And if we can’t forgive ourselves, we wonder how God could. Then in our self-loathing we begin to pull away from God.

Paul, as we heard in the second lesson, came to understand what we sometimes fail to realize, namely, that when we act out of ignorance, we sometimes do some very foolish and hurtful things. When we finally come to our senses and realize just what we have done, we cannot undo the harm we did, but we can amend our ways and make every effort not to be so foolish again. That is all well and good and necessary.

But one problem often remains: guilt. As much as Paul knew he had been forgiven for acting out of ignorance, the guilt still remained. We can read it in all his writings. Yes, he gives praise and thanks to God because God brought him to his senses and brought him to Jesus. But the remembrance of what he had done haunted him all the days of his life. Paul may not have been weighed down with guilt, but it never left him entirely either.

Guilt never does. And that is a good thing, I think. Guilt reminds us that we are weak, that we can do again what we once did and now so regret. We can become that lost sheep again and again and again. Paul could have fallen back into his old ways. He knew that. As firmly convinced and convicted as he was about Jesus, he knew he was only human and that, left to his own devises could easily become a victim of the pride and arrogance that once dominated his life.

Guilt is the residue of recognizing sin and selfishness for what they are. They are destructive forces in our lives and can wreak equal destruction and even worse on the lives of others. Guilt is what is left after the harm has been done and everyone has moved on, both the sinner and the one sinned against. Guilt can become even greater if one or both parties have not moved on.

Paul, once he had been converted, once he had seen the light, could have become so guilt-ridden because of what he had done that paralysis might have been the result. But that did not happen because Paul allowed God’s grace and strength to lift him out of his guilt and move on. And Paul had a faith community who constantly supported him. He could not undo what he had done. All he could do is admit his failings and do his best never to repeat them.

That is all any one of us can do. That is all we are asked to do. God does not want us to live in the past, to be held back because of the sins we have committed, overwhelmed by the harm we might have caused, to wander away, lost and alone. We have all been lost and we have all been forgiven, just as Paul was. Now we have to move on, guilty as charged, never becoming not guilty, but now free to live the new life we have found.

The saving grace, as these two parables and Paul’s own life point out, the amazing grace, as the hymn reminds, is that God never pulls away from us. We may have been lost, but God found is. We may be lost right now, but God will find us. The truth is that while we may have moved away from God, God never moved. God’s grace and never-ending love is the reason we can finally come to our senses, return to God by asking for forgiveness, accepting that forgiveness and then forgiving ourselves.