A question for reflection this morning:
How do you feel when you lose something?
And – following up - How do you feel when you find it again?
It depends, doesn’t it, on what we have lost – and in what context.
We lose our keys after shopping, but know they have to be somewhere close-by (we’ve just used them to unlock the door, after all.) And we may feel silly and relieved when we “find” them in our pocket.
We lose an earring – maybe from our masks – and may never find it. And we can feel saddened, as we can attach emotional connection and memory to our jewelry – and sometimes monetary value. We can feel good if we get it back.
We lose something when someone else takes it from us – a car stolen from a parking lot. We can get angry and indignant; as this can lead to a major disruption, with filing paperwork and insurance and seeking new transport.
…and we can lose something because we’re not willing or able to see it: I once “found” a stolen car when I remembered that the very muddy car I had parked had in fact been through the car wash… it had never been stolen, I just hadn’t been able to truly see it in the shiny clean car in that space. That left me feeling thankful that it was there, and more than a little foolish for my error.
Our things matter to us; we assign them meaning and value; and so to lose them – and find them – strikes a chord within us.
So now: consider how we feel when someONE is lost to us. Not a thing, but a person you love deeply. Naturally, we are grieved; we are saddened. Because we haven’t stopped loving them: grief, as C.S. Lewis defined, is love that has nowhere to go.
Now imagine how we would feel if the departure of that loved person wasn’t through death or distance, but through choice. There’s a LOT of emotions that can be attached to this loss. Fear for their safety, sadness at their absence, confusion at the situation, maybe anger or despair at the events that led up to their departure.
And imagine how we feel when we feel a loss of our sense of identity: a retirement changes our sense of self as we know that what we do is not just a title. Someone who has been ill for a long time has to re-learn identity as they journey to being well again. It’s a lot to consider. A change in marital status brings new identity as the role of relationships change.
And: as communities, we can also feel loss. Loss of connection, loss of trust, loss of engagement. Imagine if there were, for example, a 2-year period of global pandemic that caused drastic changes in lifestyle, with anxiety and confusion and ever-changing restrictions. There’s a loss of stability, a loss of the understanding of Normal, a loss of control. Imagine.
Two years ago that would have been unimaginable; and it’s no wonder that some members of our community still reject the feelings that go alongside what we’ve been coming through: they’re too much. And we don’t like change. And we don’t like to admit our own anxiety and vulnerability.
So: loss. How do we feel when we lose things – and loved ones – and our identities – and our community.
These are important things to reflect on, because as we are in the time and space now where we are facing another change: not a change back to what was; but a change moving forward into future possibility.
Our world has changed: it will never be the same.
We have changed: we will never be the same – as individuals and families, as communities – and as the church.
We are re-evaluating our priorities, our desires, our intentions. We are re-considering where and how we want to connect; the level of engagement and re-engagement we want to have.
We have the opportunity to take this time of loss, and grieve; and to be prayerful and careful about our choices today and for tomorrow.
And in these reflections, it’s good to remember and consider the constant that has been with us throughout all of our times of loss: Grace.
God’s grace has been with us the whole time.
God’s grace does not fail or falter;
It does not wane or weaken, it does not deplete.
God’s grace is eternal.
And it is for all.
…and that’s where we struggle sometimes, too – as we try to impose our own sense of who is deserving or worthy of this gift – including ourselves.
And that’s where today’s parable gently reminds us of our place and space in God’s amazing Grace.
In this well-known and often-cited parable, we see the realities of human condition and interaction:
The younger son’s desire for independence: and the breaking of family bonds, to the extreme of complete severance – as the son treats the family as dead, and tells them to consider him dead.
That son’s desire for popularity: and the loss of relationship, through fair-weather friends who demonstrate transactional relationship.
The son’s desire for identity: first as the big-man around town; which is lost when the money runs out, and then as a non-entity, when he humbly returns to his father begging for work, acknowledging “I am not worthy to be called your son.”
And of course the older brother’s desire for fairness; as he perceives his efforts and commitment have been de-valued or made in vain; until the Father reminds him that he’s not lost anything.
We have all been the young son; rejecting one another for our own preferences.
And we have all been the older son, closing our hearts when we perceive we have been wronged.
And: we have all been both sons, as our Holy Father has bestowed grace and love on us: when we’re right, when we’re wrong, when we’re neutral.
It’s also helpful to remember that this parable doesn’t say “and everything went back to the way it had been, and they lived happily ever after” – because it’s a parable, not a fairy tale.
Every person in this parable was changed; their world changed, their relationships changed, their fiscal situation changed… and they did not go back to the mythologised “before time.” There’s accountability for actions. There are real-life consequences. In fact, it’s likely that the young son did engage in the labour that he had been asking for: a very different circumstance from the one that he left.
And we know the realities of humanity when there has been conflict: there would have been a need to rebuild trust and establish healthy roles and patterns, any family system that’s gone through major change needs time and effort to stabilise and adjust.
But: throughout it all, the parable reminds us of the constancy of grace. God’s grace: that unmerited gift that God chooses to give us – and indeed LAVISHES upon us, with opulence and excess.
Grace: it’s not pie. There is no finite amount; God doesn’t take it away from one person in order to extend it to another.
We are not being denied grace just because another has received grace.
No one is ever denied God’s grace.
With grace: there is no loss or denial.
Grace comes to us all, and it affirms everything that we are afraid of losing:
Our values; our feelings. Our connections, and our love. Our safety and belonging. Our faith, and our identity as the always-welcomed children of God. Grace affirms our hope, and it paves the way for our future.
So this morning, as we continue our reflective Lenten journey, let’s learn from the gracious Father, and as we know we are receiving grace, let us also extend grace. Let’s seek new ways for healthy relationship and trust, establishing positive community and humble identity. Let’s honour what was: for grace was there. Let’s be honest in what is: for grace is here too! And let’s celebrate what is before us: a future full of grace – a grace we’re invited to share.
We know how we feel when we’ve found what has been lost:
Let’s be intentional in sharing that feeling: for the grace of God is here.
And we are blessed to rejoice in the abundant grace of God.
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