A sermon by Senior Minister John B. McCall, September 16, 2007
Luke 15:1-10
There’s been a recent flurry of media attention around a small book called “Come Be My Light,” containing personal letters from Mother Teresa, the tiny woman with a gigantic love who died in 1997 after 70 years of ministering among the poor, sick and outcast. The Vatican beatified her in 2002 with the suggestion that she might be on the fast-track to saint hood.
Now the book of her deepest thoughts has revealed that for 50 years she lived in what many call “the dark night of the soul,” rarely feeling “even the smallest glimmer” of God’s presence. She spoke of feeling a terrible separation from God, experiencing darkness, coldness and emptiness.
(For more on this topic, consult news journals including The Week, Sept 14, 2007, pg. 19)
Predictably, responses fall into two camps. Some say this proves that even the most saintly-appearing people are self-delusional, or (at most) are covering their doubts with shows of false faith. Others say this is nothing startling, nothing to diminish her, but rather a reminder that doubt is an extremely common and familiar companion to most people of faith.
It’s not ours to judge Mother Teresa. Whatever the struggles of her soul, she certainly lived the essence of the Gospel as she ministered to the poorest of the poor, and the lost, forgotten victims who remind us how the world really is.
Which of us doesn’t struggle with doubts about the very existence of a loving God while such tragedies are so common in this broken world? Then, again, she might have had trouble seeing God because she was so completely enveloped in the divine spirit.
What do you think? Is doubt an enemy of faith or, as theologian Paul Tillich remarked: is doubt rather an element of faith? What would the world see if your personal struggles and questions were published? How many of us would reveal that we’ve lived a little or a long time in the darkness of doubt, times of feeling completely lost?
I think the best advice for such times comes from experienced hikers who tell us there are two rules when you get lost. First, get to a safe place; and second, stay put! So often, when we feel doubt and question where God really is, we start running in circles and redouble our effort. We imagine God is hiding and if we could only work harder we could reconnect.
More than that, I think we can move through times of doubt by a shift in our thinking. The Gospels assure us that while we’re reaching out for God, God is reaching out for us. There’s a marvelous hymn in our hymnal, which says: “I sought the Lord, and afterward I knew He moved my soul to seek him, seeking me; it was not I that found, O Savior true; No, I was found of thee.”
Jesus embodied that truth: the very heart of the Gospel message is the faith that God is at work seeking us individually when we’re lost and bringing us back to our senses. The burden doesn’t rest on our seeking and finding an elusive God. Rather, we need to stop hiding and stay put so God can find us!
In the fifth century a great Jewish scholar observed that one of the most profound ideals of Christianity is that God searches for us one by one; that the God who chose an entire nation also chooses to seek individual people, and does so through Jesus Christ.
The Pharisees didn’t see it that way. That’s why they were all riled up that Jesus was spending time with tax collectors and other sinners. The Pharisees understood that God’s covenant was with the people, the nation. When a few wandered away it was foolish to leave the flock and go looking for the strays.
Today’s two parables point us to this understanding of God as the loving seeker. The first is about a lost sheep and the second about a lost coin. You may remember Luke has paired these two with the third parable – the Prodigal Son.
Picture the first parable. For urban folks like us it may be tough. An old hymn says the ninety and nine were safe in the fold. But the Gospel says the shepherd leaves the 99 in the wilderness and goes searching for the one that’s lost. The search continues until the stray is found, dead or alive.
A city dweller once asked a sheep-herder “How do they get lost?” “They just nibble themselves lost,” said the shepherd. “They put their heads down and move from one bit of grass to the next. They can go through a hole in the fence and never notice. They don’t realize they’re lost until it’s dark, and then it’s too late to make it back alone.”
Sound familiar? We don’t intend to stray but simply put our heads down and move from one tasty patch to another. It’s a common way of living. If you keep your nose to the ground and refuse to look around you there’s a certain sense of security. Something like the wisdom of Olympic runner Jessie Owens who said “Don’t look back, something might be gaining on you.”
Sometimes we get ourselves lost by wandering off, or by refusing to take responsibility for bad choices. And, sometimes, we get lost just ‘cause things get lost. That must be how the coin was lost. The woman in the story had ten coins and dropped this one onto the dark, dirt floor. It was a small amount of money, maybe worth a quarter in today’s world. But he said she wouldn’t rest until she found what was lost.
And he said God’s like that. Why? Because God is love, and when we love we try to connect. That’s one of the things we do for love. Jesus used the parables to give his listeners a glimpse of what God is like. So, God seeks us when we’re lost – just as a shepherd seeks a lost sheep and a woman seeks a lost coin.
God is a seeker who never gives up. God keeps looking until we’re found and when we are, there’s great celebration. God believes we’re worth seeking. You may not feel so but it’s true. The one sheep lost from the 100 was worth seeking. So was the one coin from the ten. So are we. When one wanderer is brought home safely there’s a great shout of joy.
Somewhere deep inside… sometime in the busy ness of your life, it’s likely that you’ve had the feeling that you were lost. Those things that once mattered no longer satisfied us. It can be a terrifying experience. The first, best thing to do is to stand still, get your bearings, and admit that you don’t know where you are.
I don’t suggest our life in faith is passive – that we sit idly eating bonbons or stop worshiping, or stay home on Sundays with the New York Times – waiting to see what God intends to do about it.
I know from experience that we’ll find a richer encounter with the Holy One when we place ourselves in God’s pathway, and frequent the places that God hangs out. That doesn’t just mean a beautiful sanctuary. It may. But it also means experiencing the wonder of the ocean and mountains, a tender moment with your spouse, or the still, small voice of calm.
Being with others in community is one of the best ways to be found by this searching God. As the community draws around us we realize that even when we’re lost we’re not forsaken. Through the patient friend, the loving mother, the tireless neighbor, we remember that we’re worth seeking. God can use the motives and gifts of anyone to reach us and set us again on the right path.
Most especially God approaches us in the person of Jesus Christ himself. Through his example and living presence God calls us by name. By the Holy Spirit we’re lifted from the lonely, hidden places.
When faith is unsettled and you struggle with doubts, don’t hide. Reach out and step into the circle of love and trust.
You may be very good at getting lost. God is even better at finding. And, says Jesus, when the one who is lost is found, there will be great rejoicing.
That’s the Gospel truth!