Loose Change

Luke 15:8-10

Having torn apart more than one room looking for lost money, I can relate to the woman at center stage in Jesus' parable. Worse yet, I have suffered the humiliation of arriving at the cash register suddenly to find that my wallet--ALWAYS in the front pocket of my book bag--is suddenly gone. We can lose money creatively in a variety of ways--from having it fall into the void between the seats in the car, leaving it somewhere it need not be, or making really poor investments and watching a future nest egg vaporize in a market report. It hurts, too. We had plans. We had commitments. We really wanted that cup of coffee. To have the rare experience of FINDING money is a miracle akin to the blind seeing--at least to us. To reach into that same pocket on my book bag and find a ten spot--wow!--glory days are here again! To get the bank statement and see that the counsel to buy into the widget company was explosively good--angels sing and for a moment we walk on water!

Jesus knows his audience. If you want someone's attention, start talking money. It grabs them every time.

But then he starts messing with them.

He transitions to a moment of God's joy. God rejoices when a lost child is found.

Just like we do when we find "free money."

Okay.

The contrast is obvious and it is shaming--no way around that. We rejoice over profit, God rejoices over people--which one is more important? Well, of course, the reclamation of a human being is ALWAYS more important. Ergo, we need to be more aware of reclaiming lost souls than we are lost coins.

Got it.

Now what?

Now, we need to really consider why Jesus would tell such an obvious parable.

The main reason is because we never really let go of that obvious level. As I said, Jesus knows his audience. He knows how easily and readily we will gather here in worship, nod our heads, and say, "Yes, yes," to the call to seek the lost with compassion, mercy, and reclamation; how easily and how readily we will concur that materialism leads to problems as large as selfishness, greed, and a widening gap between "haves" and "have nots;" and how easily and readily we will immediately forget these high ideals come Monday morning.

I include myself in that recognition. I never have liked the old saw to practice what you preach, namely because I know how bad I am at actually doing that. It so much simpler to stand up on Sunday morning, preach high ideals, and then conveniently compartmentalize them, moving into the work week leaving them firmly fixed in Sunday morning, walled off from Monday through Saturday.

Jesus, rather annoyingly, truth be told, won't leave us alone. Instead, he hits us where we live. To be with God is to learn to see with the eyes of God. To see with the eyes of God is to realize there is no greater treasure, nothing more valuable, nor anything worth more of our time and consideration than another human being. Being able to see a human being come to recognize and then to realize their worth as a child of God is beyond value.

It is also our hope.

I fret over young people a great deal. It is with real sorrow that I read about adolescents lost in a maze of trouble. Stories of a child lost in sex, drugs, or drink abound. They abound in the kids' groups, as well, often with the air that to spend a weekend drunk at mom and dad's lake house is not bad, but the pinnacle of joy. They do not see the danger lurking until it devours them. Some do not even see it then. They will stand in the cemetery at the grave of a lost friend, then be right back partying the same night. Sadly, a good many parents miss their job, too. They assume that providing every material want, comfort, and toy is parental success. They miss completely that what their children really need is them. They need parental presence that sets limits and boundaries. They need guidance, direction, and shepherding--even as they rail against it. They need love. Kids who find such love do better. They find their way. They find help. They learn. The toys, they can live without; without love, they could well perish.

I know that sounds dramatic--some might even call it melodrama--but it is no less true. Human beings need love more than all else to make it. We need love to live.

Money may well make the world go around. We cannot get along without it for very long or very well. But it cannot become the core of our existence. It is a tool. It is as good as the use to which it is put. Jesus knew that, too. He told a parable that everyone listening would immediately relate to, but there were implications. The woman--being a woman in 1st Century Palestine--would have especial reason to celebrate finding a coin, a day's wage. It could well keep her alive. That she exists in this way--hand to mouth, surprised by the joy of finding a surprise that will keep her alive--should serve as spur for us to love. Maybe our money needs to be used on something other than a triple mocha. Maybe we can use it to care for someone, to fill their emptiness with what they need. Maybe we can use it to alleviate suffering.

But be careful--there is more to this than throwing money at problems, then walking away. True stewardship--and that is what this parable is really all about--means following the money into the lives of other human beings. With children, it means not just buying toys, but using our resources to teach them the ways of love, spending time with them as we spend money. With others, it means not just writing a check to the charity of our choice, but meeting needs with the intention of directly engaging in the lives of those whom we seek to love.

That means practicing what we preach. Sunday is the instruction session--Monday through Saturday is making it real.

And there will be joy as we find lost souls, maybe even our own.