Thought for the week: To God, every soul matters; every life counts; one is too many to lose
Tomorrow’s gospel reading in many churches relates two of Jesus’ shortest stories: a shepherd, with 100 sheep, one of which goes missing, and a woman with 10 coins who loses one.
The world of each is turned upside down until the missing is found. Then both end with a happy celebration. I’m sure there were those who thought, “One sheep out of 100? One coin out of ten? Why not cut the losses and move on?”
Jesus, however, does not see it like that at all. To God, even one is too many to lose. Every soul matters. Every life counts.
As one of our lecturers in the New Testament used to point out in Trinity College, just look at the extravagance in both parables. The shepherd risks the 39 in the wilderness to chase the wanderer. The woman sweeps and searches with a persistence that borders on obsession. Their hearts are fixed on the missing, and when they succeed, they don’t just smile quietly – they gather everyone together for a celebration.
This is Jesus’ way of telling us something astonishing about God. God is not the detached book-keeper in the sky, keeping tally of good deeds and bad. God is not the stern teacher waiting for us to get it right. God is the one who goes looking, searching, sweeping, calling. God is restless until the lost are found - and when they are, Heaven itself rings with laughter and music.
It’s a picture of God which may come as a shock to the religious mind. In Jesus’ day, it scandalised the respectable people who thought they had God sewn up in rules and rituals. Why should tax collectors, cheats, and sinners be welcomed? Why should God care so much about the disreputable? The answer, according to Jesus, is simple: because God’s heart always practises mercy, not exclusion.
That leaves us with a challenge. Do we share that divine passion for the lost, or are we secretly content with our little circle of the 39? Do we celebrate when the prodigal returns home, or do we fold our arms like the older brother, grumbling about fairness?
The Gospel won’t let us off the hook. It dares us to imagine a church that does not just tolerate the returning sinner, but throws a party in their honour. It asks us to look at our own hearts: do we believe we are loved like that? Do we dare to see ourselves as the sheep carried home, the coin held up in triumph? Tomorrow, the message is clear and thrilling.