Lost and Found

“For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost.” Luke 19:10

The black box lay just past the center line, crumpled from a hard landing but still intact. A lone car in the other lane dodged the obstruction and continued on its way. I jabbed my driver-son. "We should move that."

We slowed to a stop on the gravel shoulder and I hopped out to investigate. It was a shoe box, the kind with a hinged lid. A few small items crouched on the floor of the box: a Webkins tag, a couple of dinosaur Silly Bandz, and a Lego minifigure.

Other small trinkets lay spread around the road. I scrambled about, collecting as many items as I could before the next car came by to crush them.

Back in the van we investigated the objects I'd picked up. A scratch-art pen, a shell casing, an inch-high trophy, a clay bead. We tried but couldn't imagine the chain of events that led to the box lying on the road. But I couldn't help feeling a twinge of sadness. Somewhere, some little boy was missing his treasures.

I couldn't help thinking of Teddy.

Years ago, our then-little girl and Teddy were inseparable. He was present at every bedtime, along for every outing, a companion at church and the park and the grocery store. In the course of his time with us he was stepped on, smashed, and on the receiving end of the stomach flu, but through it all he gazed happily up at us through his little black eyes, glad to be a part of the family.

And then we lost him. We don’t know where or when it happened. He could have been left anywhere – in an obscure corner of the house, at the bottom of Grandpa’s toy box, under a bush at a campground, in a cold, dark, wet parking lot.

Time has passed. But I'm still sad when I think of Teddy.

He was just a stuffed toy. We have had dozens of other animal friends since then. But I still miss Teddy. My child loved him. And so I sigh and get a little moist in the eyes when I think of our lost bear. He’s our Teddy, and I want him back.

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If I cry over a bear, surely God must weep for His lost ones.

If I love my child’s toy, surely God loves, with a love of unfathomable depth, the ones for whom His Child gave His very life. Surely He hurts when He thinks of those who are far from Him, whose hearts are alone and cold and held by no one. Surely He aches to have His lost ones back.

In the years after we last saw Teddy, my daughter would ask about her little lost friend. Most of the time she would calmly wonder when he would come back. Sometimes, though, the loss filled her. I can still see her dark eyes as she said in a small voice, “I bet Teddy misses me.”

Lost ones, do you miss your Father? Does part of you ache for something it once had, something you can’t name? Does your heart long to be held, to be loved? Little bear, searching soul, know that someone is looking for you.

The Father’s heart breaks for His lost ones. He knows the trials that life apart from Him brings. He sees the searching heart, the yearning soul unfulfilled. He longs for the lost, and with all His heart He wants them back.

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I look into the shoebox and think of that little boy who has lost his treasures. He can't possibly know where to look for them. Surely, if he is looking for them at all, it is with drooped shoulders and a feeling of hopelessness.

But there’s nothing hopeless in God’s pursuit of those He has lost. He looks into every corner, digs into every hole. He reaches and calls and hunts and offers, relentlessly, steadfastly, lovingly seeking the lost, seeking His loved ones . . . seeking you.

It is not only in the deepest shadows that the lost ones hide. In my waywardness, I’m the lost. And you’re the lost. We are the ones separated by sin from our eternal home. You. Me. We are the lost.

But in the cross...we are also the found. With Easter joy we are scooped up from the mud and carried to where we belong, reunited with our Father, washed and cleaned and warmed by His love. It is over us that He rejoices, it is us that He rushes to embrace.

Imagine the joy of a small girl clutching her found friend, the reunion of a boy with his treasure box. This is your Father, holding you. His found one.

Lost ones, Someone is loving you. He will always wait for you. He will always come for you. And He will always, always, always want you back.

First published in The Alpena News, April 2, 2016