"Which of You?" given 9/11/16

William Willimon is now a retired Bishop in the South East Jurisdiction. But before that, he was Dean of the Chapel at Duke University for quite a number of years. He tells the story of the time he took a group of students on a retreat on "Exploring the Christian Faith." The retreat was designed for young people who may know something about Jesus and the church, but are not quite ready to commit.

When asked what would happen on the retreat? The future Bishop explained that he intended to use any means at his disposal - films, arguments, worship, music,

Bible study - to arm wrestle them into following Jesus. But he reassured them,

“..don't get anxious. I am a United Methodist and the chances of my succeeding are fairly slim. However, that depends on how insecure you are in your disbelief."

Apparently the retreat was a moving experience for the students. On the first night, he showed the students a video of an actor reciting the Gospel of Luke. At the end of two hours, after the video had ended, a dozen students sat there in stunned silence. Then one said,

"it is a great story, a really great story." Another said,

"I just can't figure out why all the Christians I know are so boring."

It was that same young man who, at the end of the retreat, came forward for baptism. After another month of instruction, on the weekend of graduation, Willimon baptized him. The rest of the group were invited to witness his baptism. The day arrived and one of the members of the group phoned and said,

"Dr. Willimon, just to put your mind at ease, I want you to know that I have already gotten a keg of beer for the post-baptismal party."

"A keg of beer?" he asked. "It never occurred to me to get beer for a baptism."

"And you call us irresponsible?" asked the student. "See? You didn't even think about the beer." Willimon comments that was probably the first baptismal keg party in the history of Methodism.

Today's Scripture begins by saying that Jesus' critics sneered,

"This man, this Jesus, receives sinners and eats with them, that is, he parties with them."

It reminds me of a moment, elsewhere in the Gospels, where his critics come to Jesus and say, "The disciples of John the Baptist fast often and say long prayers. But your disciples are always eating, drinking, and partying."

In other words, we can tell the disciples of John the Baptist are religious, because they look so miserable! But as for your disciples, why do they seem so joyful? Why are they always partying?

In response to all of this, Jesus told two little stories about lost sheep and a lost coin. We all particularly love that sheep story—but ask yourself---how realistic is it really? Would any us go so radically out of out of our way for one who is lost?

"And which teacher among you, if you have a student who is having difficulty in class, will not cancel all of your appointments and projects for the coming semester and go search out the student, and spend every evening, late into the night, working with that student, until, on the day of the final exam, the student makes an A? And when that student makes an A, will you not run to all of your colleagues and say, "Come party with me! The one who was a dum-dum in physics has now made the best grade in the class!"

Now which one of us would do that? We all know the answer. What! I’ve got students who want to learn! I’d be shortchanging them!

Which of you women, when you have lost a quarter, will move all of your furniture out of the house, rip up the carpet, move all the heavy appliances out in the yard, and, when you have found your lost coin, will run out and shout to the neighbors, “You’re all invited to a party such as New Haven has never seen! I found my quarter!”

Now which one of us would do that? We all know the answer. What! Mess up my nice clean house, schlep all that heavy furniture, tear up my expensive carpets just to find a quarter? I may be on a fixed income, but I think I can afford to lose a lousy little quarter!

What! Leave a bunch of poor stupid sheep alone and unattended in the field, vulnerable to wolves and rustlers, while you go traipsing off to find one little lost lamb?

That's bad shepherding. That's bad business. Better to write off that lost little scamp. Too bad, but that's life. Gotta watch out for the bottom line. Well, you can always put it down as a business loss on your Schedule C. Guess you can't save 'em all.

Of course, even when it’s not practical, even when it’s bad business, human beings are capable of putting aside the bottom line, and reaching out to save a lost sheep--sometimes. A child falls down a well, and a town mobilizes, businesses shut down, volunteers leave their jobs to try and rescue the little one. Right now, in Portugal, a bunch of miners is trapped by a cave-in. And the rescuers are now digging another tunnel that will take weeks to complete, just to save their colleagues.

We’ll go out and put our own lives on the line to physically rescue a lost sheep—especially if we see them as innocent, or attractive, or vulnerable and blameless—especially if we can form an emotional connection or identification with them.

But God doesn't work that way. Our Maker doesn't think that way. God is connected to all of us! Jesus, the Good Shepherd identifies with and cares for every single one of God’s flock. Whether we’re innocent, or attractive, or vulnerable and blameless or not has nothing to do with God’s care for us all. Each lamb is as precious as a lost silver coin, worth a tenth of her assets, is to a poor peasant woman.

If our child’s dog runs away, we’ll chase her all over town—put up signs, post a reward, ask everyone we know to keep an eye out for her. Would we do the same for one of Christ’s lost sheep? How willing are we to rescue the little lamb who is morally, or spiritually, or emotionally lost?

How willing are we to forgive the wayward teenager yet another time, and help them find counseling instead of our wrath—or our indifference? How willing are we to take that addicted relative into detox—even if it isn’t the first time we’ve done it? How willing are we to reach out to that neighbor we’ve been feuding with—even if we know it probably won’t be the last time we have to do so?

How willing are we to be the first one to seek reconciliation with that estranged family member? How willing are we to tolerate that obnoxious jerk who thinks she knows it all? (Especially when we know perfectly well that the person who knows it all is ourselves!) How willing are we to forgive the mistakes of others, to make and accept amends, to give someone a second, or third, or even fourth or fifth chance?

The world is full of lost sheep-- lost people. They're everywhere. They look at you with hollow eyes on the street. They slink into alleyways so you won't notice them. They hunch over as if they are carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. They dwell in nursing homes and just down the street. They hang around in the Corner Tap, and at the water cooler at your office. They’re in your classroom, or your workplace, The church of Jesus Christ will never go out of business for lack of prospects.

And we are the ninety-nine who have been found. We come together here in this safe sheep fold called the United Methodist Church every Sunday. You and I have followed Jesus in here. We listen to the music, hear the word preached, partake of cup and bread, maybe learn something. We donate to help the needy, we visit with friends, we fellowship with one another.

All this is intended to renew us, to refresh us, to revitalize us. All this is intended to inspire us and empower us to split up and follow Jesus out there into that broken, bleeding world to seek the lost, the broken, the bleating, the alone.

Mike Yaconelli tells a modern parable.

A cow is nibbling on a tuft of grass in the middle of a field, moving from one tuft to the next. Before you know it, she ends up at some grass next to the fence. Noticing a nice clump of green on the other side of the fence, the cow stumbles through an old tear in the fences and finds herself outside on the road. “Cows don’t intend to get lost,” the farmer explained, “they just nibble their way to lostness.”

The farmer didn’t know it, but he was talking about more than cows. None of us intends to have our souls wander onto the dull and listless highway of the American way. First comes the tuft of education, then the tuft of marriage, then children, a new home, and one day we wake up to discover that we have nibbled our way to lostness.

Jesus seems to care inordinately about those of us who have nibbled our way to lostness—the ones who aren't here. This weird interest of Jesus in the absent lamb, might seem puzzling to us. .After all, why should Jesus bother caring about them when He's got us? But the message of Scripture is clear. The author of I Timothy said it. "The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance. Christ Jesus came into the world to rescue sinners."

He came for sinners--the lost-- lost sheep, lost coins, lost brothers, lost hookers, lost fishermen, lost tax-collectors, lost jerks and weaklings and addicts and bar-flies. He came for the unemployed and the physically and mentally challenged, the migrant workers and the immigrants—no matter if they’re documented or not. Jesus came for the former friend who we’re no longer speaking to, and for our irritating neighbors and all those hypocritical fellow church members.

All those who we in the ninety-nine have given up on, or dismissed as unworthy, or forgotten about, or simply written off are the very ones that Jesus has headed out to look for. He’s going to be looking back over his shoulder to see if we're following him.

"Which of you....?" He seems to be asking. "Which of you...?"

Remember what happens every time somebody who was lost gets found? Rejoicing in Heaven! Celebration for all of us ninety-nine because we are so bound up with one another-- church leader to stranger-- hungry to full-- joyous to mean-spirited-- faithless to faithful, child of God to child of God,

What happens when the lost sheep gets found is contagious. And the ninety-nine sheep have an excuse to throw a party. Which is exactly what we come together to do each and every week., Remember what happens? It’s every body’s all time favorite hymn. “Amazing Grace!”