"Seekers and Rejoicers"

(Please read Luke 15:1-10)

I love Jesus’ parables (well, sometimes, I do). They never seem to be about the lost sheep, the lost coin or the prodigal, as much as we would like to make them be or even as clearly as they pass through each parable. The focus always seems to be something else - another focus other than the ones we know so well. We personally identify with lost sheep, the lost coins and prodigals much more than we identify with the actual subject of attention in Jesus’ parables. The words “Which one of you” in the Luke 15:1-10 Scripture reading point me toward who I am to be. I am to be the seeker and the one who rejoices! “Rejoice with me” the Scriptures read. Jesus is saying, “This is what the Kingdom of God looks like. Be a part of it! Be in partnership with God!” He is saying this within earshot of all. The words are that of hope for the downtrodden and sinners, for the lost and the alone. Yet, perhaps they, too, are also called to this kingdom partnership as well, just as much as are the Pharisees and scribes. The law-driven, grumbling Pharisees and scribes are called to move beyond the laws toward becoming a reflection of God on earth - to come into this “Kingdom-come-on-earth” way of welcoming, reaching out, persistence, seeking and rejoicing. It seems too much of a shock for them, I’m afraid. Is it too much of a shock for us as well? Would we rather remain lost sheep, rolling coins, or prodigals? How can we grow to become one of those “Which one of you’s” of Jesus’ parables? How can we become seekers and rejoicers?

This morning, allow me to share with you one of the most important moments of my life. It seems fitting today because it happened on the evening of 9/11, nine years ago. Unlike many of you, I had no access to TV that morning. The receptionist where I worked had a small radio, our only source of news. The day flowed with a combination of deep emotion and that of responsibility to what I must do at work (life at work must go on in the midst of this time when lives of so many stopped or changed forever). I drove home at lunch. The sky was bright blue and cloudless. I looked toward a green hill where children were rolling down it, having a grand, giggly time. I wept for them, strange as it might seem. They were so oblivious to hate and fear and this kind of deep pain that will never be erased in its entirety from so many hearts. I wanted to protect these little ones forever from such things but knew that would be impossible for any of us to do. And so I felt alone and helpless, knowing that somewhere the skies were filled with dust and debris and death and my skies were cloudless and beautiful; somewhere there were tears and fears and unbelievable grief and yet in these children, there was only joy and giggles.

At the time, I had no church that I called "mine" in this city where I lived and worked. I had no church to run to that evening, yet I knew that I had to go somewhere. I sought out First United Methodist Church only because I am Methodist. I knew no one there. There I sat, in a sanctuary that was filled, yet I probably had never felt so alone in my life. When we sang, I only heard my voice. When we prayed aloud, no one else could be heard. Certainly others were singing and praying but this is the type of aloneness that I felt in this sanctuary filled with a church "family". As I sat at the end of the pew, listening to the pastor stumble through words that he could barely find, I felt a hand on my shoulder. A man had left his seat from across the aisle. He had walked down the aisle to me. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I didn't want you to think that you are alone." He squeezed my shoulder, patted it, smiled and quietly walked back to his seat. He was a stranger to me as I was to him. But he sought me out. Very deliberately, he sought me out. After the hastily-put-together worship service, I pushed my way through the people, trying to find this man. I couldn’t find him. I walked out of the church, down the steps and saw the young man with his wife and little girl. I went over to him, to thank him for seeking me out, for touching me, for assuring me that I wasn't alone in the middle of so many strangers, even as the pastor was speaking. I asked him why he felt such a need to do that. He couldn't really explain it beyond that I looked so alone even in this sanctuary that was standing-room-only that night and he felt very lifted out of his pew to walk toward me. He then turned to introduce his wife and child. I can't remember his wife's name but I do his only child. Her name was "Anna". I told him my name. He hugged me and said, "Maybe that's why I felt a need to whisper to you." There was a moment of rejoicing in the way that God nudges a person. We both felt as if we were the subjects of God's attentions that evening.

My remembering of that day 9 years ago is certainly of the horrific events. But it is also one of a stranger specifically seeking me out, touching my shoulder, smiling and whispering "I didn't want you to think that you are alone." That night, I learned how to be a seeker, how to touch, how to smile, and how to whisper to someone alone in a crowd of people, "You are not alone." That night, on a night that seemed as if no one was rejoicing, there was one such moment of rejoicing by a seeker and by one sought after.

Oh God, you seek us out when we are most alone, when we are that lost sheep, when we are a lost coin that has rolled across the floor and fallen through a crack, even a crack in a sanctuary. You climb through thorny brush to pull us out of our lostness. You throw us across your shoulders, holding us tightly. You sweep up dust to find us. You rejoice and rejoice and rejoice. But you also look at us and ask “Which one of you will do this as well?” Nudge us. Move us from our comfortable places. Place a broom in our hands. Lift us from our pews and walk with us down the aisles or out the doors. Give us hearts that are that of the seekers and rejoicers. Place “I will” on our lips when you ask “Which one of you will walk through a wilderness or sweep up dust or walk down an aisle for another?” Rejoicing God, thank you for inviting us to rejoice with you. Amen

anna