“Lost and Found” Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On September 15th, 2019 Scripture: Luke 15:1-10 This morning we continued to read from the gospel of Luke, picking up the story right after last week’s passage. And today we also begin step 2 of our 12 step sermon series, based on Richard Rohr’s book “Breathing Under Water.” In the language of the 12-step program step 2 reads “[We] came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” In our gospel story, great crowds are following Jesus through the land. He is getting closer to Jerusalem, and the cross. The religious people are annoyed. They grumble among themselves, because Jesus is breaking the rules of polite religious society. He welcomes the sinners and the tax collectors, he eats with them, and, to add insult to injury, he has a good time. This bugs the religious leaders. And so Jesus tells them two stories that highlight the joy experienced when those who are lost are restored to God’s community. The first story is about a shepherd who has lost one of his sheep. He has a herd of 100. When one sheep is lost he leaves the other 99 to search for the frightened lamb. He finds it in the thicket, panicked and silent so as not to attract the attention of predators. The shepherd is so joyful he has found the lamb he throws a party for his friends and neighbors to celebrate with him. The second story is about a woman who has lost one of her precious 10 silver coins. You can tell by the way she reacts that she is panicked. Did she drop it in the market place? Was it stolen from her pocket or purse? How could she be so careless? She has 9 more coins, but still this one coin is so precious to her. She needs the lost coin to restore the whole ten she has been saving for years. The woman turns the house upside down, giving it a long overdue deep cleaning. She sweeps every inch of her small home, every speck of dust is turned over. Every dark corner is illuminated by her lamp. Finally she finds the coin and lets out a deep sigh of relief. She is filled with joy, and calls in her friends and neighbors … this is cause for rejoicing. What she thought was lost is found. Both the shepherd and the woman experience such joy and relief at finding what they had lost. Most of all, their joy is about restoring the lost lamb and the lost coin to the whole. Jesus summarizes by telling the religious leaders, God is just like the shepherd and the woman. God rejoices over and throws a party for those who come home to God, where they belong. In the light of these stories, we return to Step 2 of the 12 Steps we are considering in this sermon series: “We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” Here in church, we might substitute some of the language. Perhaps our version might read: “When we are found, when we turn toward God, we are restored to the community of the church.” As Richard Rohr writes (in chapter 2): “The surrender of faith does not happen in one moment but is an extended journey, a trust walk, a gradual letting go, unlearning, and handing over.” [1] There may be parts of ourselves that remain hidden for years. Still our journey leads us to be found and restored as a whole. When Mary and I talked about the service this week, Mary provided me with insights into the 12 step program and what it has meant for her. She told me of the way in which desperation led her to her group, and the joy she experiences in walking the 12 step way and surrendering to God. You can see the joy in her eyes when she smiles. Mary told me that she supposed that I have also experienced my own moments of desperation. She is not wrong. Although I have not gone to a 12 step program, I have experienced some despair. And turning over to God has sometimes been that slow, painful process that characterizes us religious folk! One turning event has been in my mind this week. It’s probably been in your mind too, as we observed the 18th anniversary of September 11th 2001. 9/11 touched my community of the time in a particular way. I belonged to a circle of mothers, in our suburban town. We had mostly come together through our UCC church, and had begun to tentatively explore our faith together. We were mostly married with young children. Our spouses were in the busy early stages of their careers: doing well, but on the way. They traveled frequently to client meetings, conferences and the like. That morning my husband, like many others, had flown out of Logan Airport down to Newark Airport for a meeting. As soon as he heard about the attack on the twin towers he called a car rental company made a reservation. As he made his lonely way back to Massachusetts that evening he witnessed the plumes of smoke over Manhattan. We were so grateful to come through 9/11 with our family in tact. And all our immediate friends were safe too. We grieved for those who had not been so fortunate. Simon’s car was impounded at the airport for a few days. My parents who were visiting at the time could not fly home to the UK as scheduled. They left, stoic as always, on one of the first flights out of Logan after the attack. That was a difficult “good bye” for me. We were all safe and well, and I knew I should be grateful. But, of course, our family could not escape the anxiety of the times. In the following year Simon continued to travel to Europe at least once per month. His mom had died the previous year and so he generally included a visit to his father who was sick and lonely. I would track his flights on the airline’s website, sometimes I’d panic for a moment when the connection dropped and the plane seemed to stall over the ocean. For the following year our son had difficulty sleeping, and suffered anxiety when we left him and his sisters in the care of a sitter. I felt like the glue of the family, holding us together in some shape or form. But I wasn’t doing so well. I’d come into church each week, and when it came time for our silent prayers of confession, I’d tear up. I was so often frustrated with my husband and children. I didn’t understand it. Why did this family, the answer to my hopes and dreams, seem like a burden? Why was I so impatient, so desperate for some time for me … so exhausted at trying to hold everything together? “God forgive me.” I’d sigh. Finally the penny dropped … my confession needed to become a prayer for healing. I couldn’t simply “try not to” do those behaviors I didn’t like. I needed help, and so I began to pray for it. Gradually I discovered the spiritual resources to shine a light into those corners of complaint. I learned to honor my needs, as a mother and a child of God. I began to seek out ways to communicate better in relationships and to care for myself so that I could care for others. You might say I was “restored to sanity.” The joy of restoration has led me to some wonderful places of community. One occasion, I remember, it led me to take my children to worship with our church’s sister African Methodist Episcopal church in the city. It was Maundy Thursday evening and we washed feet together with our African American siblings. The service ran late and my son got upset that he would not be able to fall asleep that night. So, I brought him to the woman I had been partnered with and she helped us to pray. As we drove home to the suburbs after the service he looked out of the car window and watched the beautiful full moon. The experience settled him right down and he was able to sleep that night. You might say we were “restored to sanity.” And so, what is it that you need restoration from? What is it you are hiding? Are you one of the religious folk, who hide in your strict religion, fearful of hidden things being revealed? Or perhaps you bury things in the busy-ness of daily life, keeping yourself too well occupied to think and pray. Or are you someone who knows what it is to turn to God in desperation? Have you turned your life over to the way of Jesus and had your dark corners illuminated and swept? Is this something you would be willing to share one day with the congregation, to encourage all of us on our spiritual journeys? This week I heard about a series of discussions organized in Milton by interfaith clergy and community leaders. It’s called “Courageous Conversations.” These are conversations that bring together people across racial divides to talk about issues of racism in our culture today. They sweep the corners clean, opening up and talking to one another about their experiences. Some have criticized this movement as not “doing anything.” Yet the leader told me, having people open up and talk face-to-face has transformed lives. It has begun to restore the wider community. Sometimes “doing something” saves us from confronting the needs and fears in the dark recesses of our hearts and minds. Sometimes, for God to find us and restore us, we have to stop the doing and allow ourselves to be found. This is what I hope for our upcoming discussion series: on “The Reality: Where We are Now and Options for the Future.” For us, as a church, to pause for a moment in the doing of our business and ask God to illuminate the dark corners, to sweep away the dust on what is hidden; for us to face the future with God’s clarity and light. Are you ready to be found, in the deepest, darkest recesses of your heart? I hope so because it will lead to joy and the restoration of community. Let all God’s people say … Amen [1] Rohr, Richard. Breathing Under Water : Spirituality and the Twelve Steps (p. 8). Franciscan Media. Kindle Edition.
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