The parable of the Lost Coin is actually the second in a series of three parables.
SCENE: Jesus is surrounded by tax-gatherers and sinners. They know they are “bad,” yet they press in to hear all that Jesus has to say. Also in attendance are Pharisees and scribes, who are their typical snooty selves, questioning Jesus and his allowing Bad guys to be in his presence.
The first of the three parables Jesus tells in succession is the story of the Lost Sheep; the second is the Lost Coin, followed by the Prodigal Son.
We have a picture of that which is lost: humanity. And we have an illustration of Jesus’ attitude and activities in the midst of derelict humanity.
The sheep is lost through stupidity. The coin is lost through carelessness. The son is lost through deliberate, self-centered pride.
I don’t know about you, but I can see myself in all three parables: I’ve sinned because I’ve done something stupid, I’ve been careless of decisions I’ve made, and then I’ve even willfully known what I was about to do was wrong, wrong, wrong, yet I did it anyway.
Next posting I will tell you about a very special Lost Coin. You won’t want to miss out hearing about it! Check back within the week!
In the meantime, which parable do you most relate to?
A sure-fire recipe for failure to make positive changes in my life is for me to make New Year’s Resolutions. Why is this so? Hmmm, if I could figure it out, then I could fix it!
What if I changed it to New Year’s Intentions? Well, you know about the road to hell being paved with good intentions . . . not going down that road!
But what about New Year’s Possibilities? Now that sounds doable! No pressure to succeed . . . and because it doesn't involve goals, exactly, I can't fail. Possibilities seem intriguing. Kind of like the “what if” game. I could ask myself, “Is it possible to do this, or to change that?” Then if I attempt the possibility and can’t pull it off, I won’t feel like I’ve failed. Rather, I can tell myself, “Well, that didn’t work, so what if I try this?”
Yep, I think I’ll toss New Year’s Resolution making and go with New Year’s Possibilities. The possibilities are endless . . .
It’s 11 am. My office window is wide open. The cool air chills my warm skin after a workout on Wii Fit. I lean back, kick up my feet onto my desk, and grab Stephen King’s On Writing. Immersed in this prolific writer’s memoir, something in the back of my mind niggles me to awareness of the quiet. The stillness draws my attention like a bellowing foghorn. Car and trucks and milk tankers typically rush by at 45 mph this time of morning, but not today.
It’s Labor Day. And few laborers are out an about. I should be working on one project or another, but no. I’m going to rest from my labors and enjoy the peace, the calm, the quiet that will be shattered tomorrow morning by the big yellow kid transporter that rumbles by at 7:26 am, signaling the end of summer and all its fun. Time to get to work.
We think we have life under control. We make plans. We set goals. But sometimes, more times than we’d like, life throws us for a loop.
Typically, these “loops” are not pleasant. Plans fall apart, goals become unrealistic. Sometimes it comes in the form of a call in the middle of the night, telling you a loved one is sick or has died.
I thought I had prepared myself for this eventuality. My folks are aging and they live almost 1,000 miles from me. My only sibling lives in South America. So if our parents need help, I’m the one they call—and that middle-of-the-night call came several days ago.
I immediately set aside my plans and goals, contacted my sister, and hopped a plane to attend to my parents. Sounds easy, yes?
Well, it wasn’t easy, but it was doable. Especially since my sister was able to hop a plane and join me.
But some of life’s loops aren’t so “easy.” Yet most times we can’t avoid them. Some we endure; others we deal with, kicking and screaming the whole way.
My husband and children have supported me through this current loop. My sister’s family has helped her, too. And we sisters lean on and buoy each other. But most important of all, our Lord gives us the grace, strength, and wisdom to walk through the loops that threaten to strangle us and steal our joy.
I count on Him to take me through these difficult times, and He’s always faithful. Though I may encounter sadness and grief, He will never leave my side. He knows firsthand the pains and sorrows of life’s loops; therefore, He is ever-present to take my hand and walk alongside me—even carry me.
What has life thrown your way? How has Jesus comforted you?
No, not the jewelers. The lady who babysat me and my sister when we were little. Okay, I don’t remember the sitter’s name, but “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” is catchy—caught your attention.
One morning, Mom was running late for work, so she didn’t have time to feed us breakfast. She rushed us to the sitter’s house (whatever her name was!), who kindly fed us.
I knew we were in for a treat when “Tiffany” pulled a frying pan out of the cupboard, a carton eggs from the fridge, and bread from the box.
Eggs. Yum! The incredible, edible egg. I drooled as she cooked breakfast.
I sat in anticipation at the kitchen table, fork poised in my plump hand. I was so hungry, I wanted to snatch the plate from the kind lady’s hand and dive into my egglicious food.
I didn’t thank God for this blessed gift. I plunged the fork into yoke, a golden slimy stream spewed forth. I soaked up the runny treat with bits of buttered toast and stabbed the white albumin, then shoved the tasty victuals into my eager mouth. (My taste buds did the happy dance!)
Wait! I just got started and it’s gone? Surely I hadn’t eaten it already? With a final lick of egg drool off my lip, I raised by eyes and looked at my sister then to her plate of untouched food.
Why was she staring ashen faced at her plate? The two eggs stared back at her.
Ah! Poor dear. She hates eggs. The only way she can possibly worry down eggs if they are hard fried. For her to even look at over-easy eggs, much less eat them, is an invitation to hurl.
Mom would be horrified if my sister were so ungrateful as not to eat the food the sitter wasn’t obligated to provide us. At such a tender age I was forced into a difficult position. I could 1) come to the aid of my older sister and explain to our sitter that dear sis just couldn’t eat the eggs, thereby wasting the food, or 2) be heroic to save my mom embarrassment and my sister misery—eat the eggs myself.
I was about to grab the plate from my sister, when a light went on inside my greedy little head. Never one to waste opportunities to come out on top—especially when food is involved—I whispered to my sister, “If I eat your eggs, you have to do my house chores for a week.” Okay, so a three-year-old doesn’t have a lot of chores to do, but what else could I bargain with?
My sister exchanged our plates so fast, vertigo threatened to topple me off the chair.
I realized right then and there the power of food.
