First Congregational UCC, Rock Springs, WY 9/12/2010

Caring Enough!
By Rev. Steven R Mitchell
First Congregational UCC, WY 9/12/10
Based on 1 Timothy 1:12-17 and Luke 15:1-10


Each time we come together to worship, at the very beginning of our time together I give a greeting that says, “No matter who you are, whether you are a believer, a doubter, or a seeker, you are welcome in this sacred space.” I don’t know whether you think of this greeting as something that sounds “nice” and “welcoming” or if it brings to mind any type of “theological” statement that we as a congregation is trying to make. Actually, this phrase has been tentatively added into the basic constitution of this church which once all of the revisions are completed, will be discussed and voted on in the not too distant future. This morning’s lectionary texts are actually two examples of why the content of this greeting exists.
The believers could be representative of Paul in his opening statement to Timothy, as well as to where Paul himself was, prior to becoming a believer and spokesperson for Christ. The seekers would be representative of the one lost sheep or the one lost coin. It is Christ who is the one who is welcoming us into this place, and it is sacred because of the sacrifice that he made for the entire world.
This morning the Gospel reading is another set of very familiar parables. The problem for those of us who have grown up listening to these parables year after year or once every three years, is that after so many times of hearing about them or reading them, we start to turn off our minds to what they might have to say “anew” to us. As a minister, I find that the more often I have read a story, I have to spend more time thinking about what I am reading, and not just time but actually the clearing of my mind of any preconceived understanding that I am bringing to that reading.
Today’s parables are a direct response to the grumblings of the Pharisees and the scribes, as they were upset with the conduct of Jesus around people that the Pharisees perceived as “no account, good for nothing reprobates.” These are two of three parables that deal with being lost in one fashion or another. For us this morning, we need to figure out “who” it is that is lost with respect to how it relates to us. Are we the shepherd or the woman who leaves what she has to go and search for that one lost sheep or lost coin? Or is Jesus referring to the Pharisees and the scribes as being the lost? After all, they are the ones who would know the law, they are the ones who are suppose to be “welcoming” and “administering” to the needs of those who are in need, and they were, as it says, “grumbling about whom Jesus was willing to hang out with. Would these stories be relating to those who had come to listen to Jesus, where he is able to have one of those “teachable moments”, where Jesus is able to present a case for their “salvation?” Or is it possible that “we” are the ones being referred to as the ones being lost? Is it even possible for those of us that call ourselves “disciples of Christ” to actually be or become lost for that matter?
When I get to reminiscing about my childhood and try to tell whomever it is that I am sharing stories of my childhood with, I generally am trying to convey what a model child I was, and how I rarely gave challenge to my parents. But then there are stories that start to come to the forefront of my mind that might give a different perspective than how I tend to view myself.
One such story deals with my desire to go visit my cousin who lived on the other side of town. I lived in a small community of about three thousand people. I lived just one block away from my grandmother’s house, and actually all I had to do was cut across the yard on the opposite side of the street that I lived on, and then I was at my grandmother’s. I visited my grandmother every day without fail. I hadn’t seen my cousin for what felt like weeks, while in truth it was probably just a couple of days. After all, when you are four years old, time holds a different standard than it does for grown-ups.
As I was saying, I had been missing my cousin for some time and for whatever reason, my mother wasn’t willing to take me over so that I could visit and play with him. I had even been talking to my grandmother about this situation, hoping to enlist her sympathy, to where she would either make my mother relinquish her position or grandmother herself would drive me over so I could see my cousin. That didn’t seem to work very well either, so one particular afternoon I decided that I was going to go on my own to see my cousin.
Now I was a pretty smart kid, I knew Mom expected me home from grandmother’s each day at a certain time, so I on the day that I decide to take matters into my own hands, I left my grandmother’s house about an hour early, telling her that I was going home. I had full confidence that I would be able to walk over to my cousin’s house, have time to play with him and be back home within that hour. After all, when we would drive from our house to his, it took only a matter of minutes. Of course, at the age of four, you also don’t realize that a ten minute ride in a car could equal several miles in one direction. My home town may have been small, but it had big yards and long blocks!
When I started out on my little adventure, I had full confidence that I knew my way to my cousin’s house. I knew that I needed to get onto the street that had the courthouse on a corner of an intersection. I also knew that I needed to go past my Aunt and Uncle’s tavern. Well, go past might be understating it just a bit. The reality was, I needed to sneak past it and not be seen by my great-auntie, otherwise, she would call my mom and I wouldn’t get to visit my cousin. Well, I managed to do that, or so I thought. Over all, I was doing pretty well until I got to a street that I didn’t quit recognize. Then there was another street that I didn’t recognize, but I knew that if I just continued in the general direction of West, even though I had started to zig and zag around streets that didn’t seem familiar to me, I would eventually get to his house, or at the very least, find the edge of town, which was just as good, since the street he lived on was the last street in town.
At some point there came the realization that it was taking me a lot longer time to get to my cousin’s than I had previously thought. I also don’t mind sharing that it was at that point that I started to worry about whether I actually was going to make it to my cousin’s house. Finally, after a very long time, I came upon a street that did look familiar and in fact I could actually see my cousin’s house on the top of the hillside. It was also about that time that my mother pulled up beside me in the car. I could see in her eyes a certain relief that she had found me, safe and sound. After I had gotten into the car and had assured her that I was all right, we started to have a discussion about my being lost and how that made my mother feel.
In many respects, my mother was like the shepherd, who had left the rest of the flock, meaning my sister and infant brother, to come and search for me. Although I wasn’t aware of it, I had wondered off like that one sheep told in the parable. I have to tell you that once my mother found me, I was very surprised that I didn’t receive a spanking right there and then, which was the usual mannor of swift justice and retribution. Rather, I recall my mother asking me what I thought she should do to me as a way of deterring this or similar behavior in the future; a behavior that wasn’t just disobeying the authority of my mother, but behavior that could truly be harmful to my health. I remember telling her that I suppose I should receive a spanking, as I did realize this was a major breach of conduct. I don’t really remember if we went with my suggestion or if mom was just so glad that I was safe and knowing I had actually learned a valuable lesson, that I never received that spanking.
I think one of the things that we can learn through this parable is that even those of us who call ourselves “Christians”, members of the flock, so to say, are capable of wandering off and becoming lost, and not even know we are lost at the time. “What if it is our faith that we have lost? Do we not sometimes find ourselves in the place of the seeker, not exactly seeking God, but seeking the faith that has become lost to us? What is it to “lose faith”, but to lose the conviction that one has been found, to begin to wonder whether one is sought at all – whether there is in fact a shepherd or a peasant woman tracking us down? To those who are lost, object is faith itself, these parables whisper that losing faith – that is, becoming like the tax collector and sinner rather than the Pharisee and scribe – is to have wandered into the place where one can be found.” Scott Bader-Saye, Feasting on the Word, YR C
In this week’s UCC reflections, Rev Kate Huey shares this story: This week, I watched a segment of Primetime Live in which Diane Sawyer was revisiting – eight years later – several young people she had interviewed on the streets of a city in Oregon. These kids were definitely lost children. At least two of them were gay, and one can only imagine the terrible rejection that drove them from their homes and families. One young boy was asked to describe his dream home. He answered quickly, as if he had dreamed of it often; his dream home would have a marble staircase and a big entrance hall (doesn’t that sound like someone who feels the need to be welcomed?) Asked to describe his dream parents, he said, “They would have their mouths taped shut so they couldn’t yell at me and their hands tied so they couldn’t hit me.” Years later, this same young man looked back on the years he spent as a runaway; when Diane Sawyer asked him, “Is that what you wanted – for someone to come and find you?” His response: “Yes, that’s what I wanted – I wanted someone to care enough to come looking for me.”
This morning’s sermon title “Caring Enough“, was inspired by this story about the young man who had been a runaway. All he wanted was to know that someone cared. We all have times in our lives when we feel that no one cares about us, whether that is real or falsely perceived, the fact that we feel this way, means that it is real to us. We just want to know that someone cares. That someone might not be able to do anything to physically improve our situation, but just knowing that someone does care, many times is enough to help us get past that feeling of being lost.
The important position that these two parables present to us, is that our being found is not by our efforts. Like the sheep and the coin, we are found – and found in a way that is not dependent on our seeking but only on our being sought. The good news is just that – we are sought, and more, we have always already been found. Scott Bader-Saye, Feasting on the Word, YR C This is one of the most important facets of what we as a church or as an individual follower of Christ can provide for everyone that we meet. We can provide that care, a sense that each person we meet is important, because we ourselves at one point or another have been lost but then found.
Today’s lesson is one that lets us know that we are that lost sheep or that lost coin at some time in our lives, and we might not even realize this condition. It is a lesson to those who already have that sense of belonging to learn to rejoice in the recovery of those who have been lost in their journey. It is a story about celebration for those who have been found and brought back home. It is a story of assurance, that no matter what happens along life’s pathway, we are so precious that if even one of us seems to find ourselves lost, God’s love is so great, that we will be sought after by God, no matter how far gone we think we have strayed. That is truly the resurrection story: that God so loved the world that he sent his son into the world that none may be lost! Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah! The message today is a resounding: GOD CARES ENOUGH! Amen