One of my sons has a terrible time losing his keys. It used to be funny. Then he called one night from work, like 1:30 in the morning. The phone never rings that time of night with good news. Your mind can run marathons through hell in the few seconds it takes to say hello. My son couldn’t find his keys and, even though we didn’t have an extra set at home, he thought talking to me would be helpful anyway. At 4:30 that morning, he finally found them in a nearby dumpster. I didn’t want to know the rest of the story. I figured he’d learned his lesson.
A couple of days later, he lost them again. At first, I considered exploring what it would cost to have his key chain surgically attached to his right wrist. Then, I remembered the most basic of finding-lost-things skills. I told him to look in the very last place he remembered for sure having his keys. “Trace it back in your memory to the last place and work forward from there.” It worked. This time he found them under the pillow on his bed.
When recently preaching about Mary going to Jesus’ tomb the first Easter, something occurred to me. Mary had lost Jesus the Friday before. Was she returning to the last place she knew for sure she’d seem him last, hoping to work forward from there? The scripture doesn’t say; scripture doesn’t tell us many things. I couldn’t help but wonder. What better place to find Jesus than the last place you remember for sure having seen him?
Of course, the really good news is that Jesus never loses track of us. He is the Holy “G” in our spiritual GPS. He can pinpoint us, geographically, emotionally, spiritually in all kinds of weather, day or night, 24/7. The problem is, we can’t always find him. He gets or seems lost to us. As though Jesus’ question to his Father remains hanging all these centuries later, “My God . . . why have you forsaken me?” Translation: “God, I feel like I’ve lost you? Where are you now?”
Sometimes, in order to find Jesus again, I have to go back to the last place I remember for sure having seen him. One day that might mean taking a physical journey to a special place, like the altar of a church not many miles from where I now sit. Another day it means taking a trip down memory lane, to the Sangre de Cristo mountains north of Santa Fe, where, sitting alone atop a summit one summer afternoon, I touched the face of God if I ever did. Sometimes, I at least hear his voice in a song. As much other noise as there is in my head, the moments when I know for sure I saw Jesus, or heard him, are few and far between. They are touchstone moments for sure.
When I am lost, I like to go back to the places I knew for sure I last saw Jesus. Then, the adventure starts all over again, the adventure of working my way back from the last place to wherever I’m standing now, then just taking the next step forward.
2 comments:
It is so hard to understand why things happen the way they do sometimes, especially when we can't see a clear path to the future. It feels like we're wandering around lost when in reality we aren't lost at all when we are in the capable hands of the Father. In the midst of the hardest times of my life, I have felt the nearness of God in the most powerful and tangible ways I've ever known. In the moment, I cherished His closeness but still just longed for the pain to end. But looking back on those days, they are some of the sweetest memories because of how my faith increased, how my priorities changed and how God has used me because of them. Because I have had the experience of allowing Him to guide me from the valley to the mountaintop, I know firsthand that He is able and that He will. That is a lesson I wouldn't trade for anything because it has changed the way I view my life and my struggles.
I am excited to see what God has in store for you. You have great insight and such a heart for people, and He will use that for His glory in bigger and better ways than we can imagine! I pray that you will feel His peace, His strength and even some excited anticipation as you wait for Him to reveal His plan.
Thanks, Lori. I appreciate your encouragement. I'm also hoping that just telling the truth about my real life experience will encourage some others who think preachers are exempt from these kinds of events.
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