Lost things

Today's gospel left out a bunch of verses. It said (from Luke) Jesus told them this parable and then jumped ahead to the parable of the Prodigal Son--or as I like to say it: The Lost Son.

What was missing was two more parables about lost things--the lost sheep, which the shepherd sought while leaving behind the 99 that weren't lost and the lost coin--where a widow swept her floor looking for her lost coin.

When the sheep and the coin were found, there was rejoicing and celebration, just as there was when the lost son returned home.

Lost things take on a great meaning.

Lost keys cause you to tear the house apart looking.

A lost pet causes you to make posters and call the pound and walk the streets calling.

A lost child is a time of terror and profound worry.

Lost things mean a lot.

And when they are found, safe and sound, we rejoice and celebrate and give thanks to whatever we think of when we think of God.

To me, the shepherd and the widow and the father are stand ins for that God.

It is the 'lost' that God values most of all. It is the 'lost' that God wants devoutly to find. It is the lost coming home that is the root of God's joy.

Think about that.

God worries about the outcasts, the off the grid, the 'lost ones'.

And so, perhaps, should we.

Something to ponder at any rate.