Lost and Found
Posted on July 1, 2009 12:00 AM MDT by Tiffany Kinerson
“…Suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one…. And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice…I have found my lost coin.’ In the same way…there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one…who repents.” Luke 15:8-10
I arrived home from vacation, full of memories and fun. But without my luggage. At first, we laughed, talked about whoever might pick it up and discover nothing but our dirty underwear. But then, as time wore on and the possibility of recovering the bag grew less and less likely, I remembered my favorite earrings stashed in my jewelry bag. Oh, and the necklace Rob got for me when he was deployed to Afghanistan. Then I remembered the quart of maple syrup from Vermont that I’d picked up. And the quilted make-up bag I’d bought for my cousin. Then the next morning I woke up to blindness and realized that I had no glasses. The laughter ended.
My loss had become staggering. I’d have to make doctor’s appointments and catalog orders, send cards of regret. And how on earth could I ever recuperate the golden necklace with my name inscribed in Arabic—the one that I keep as a reminder of the times that God indeed stood by me, even when I felt most alone? A shame.
So I called the bag claim at the airport, armed with my claim number as a shield, but expecting the report to be nothing but daggers of loss. My amber earrings from Greece were also in the bag. How would I get those back? The agent keyed in my information, held me in silence, then tapped a little more. Had I also left my new bathing suit in there or had I shoved it into one of the other bags at the last minute? I couldn’t remember.
“We picked it up last night. It should be at your house today.”
The words sailed through the lines and lighted into my brain. “It will?” Hope fired through my chest and my insides jumped for joy. “Oh, thank you so much!” Then I hung up and called my husband to tell him the great news. I called my in-laws who I’d visited to tell them, too. I yelled up to the boys to let them know: my bag that was lost was now found. My glasses, my jewelry, my make-up, even my dirty laundry was coming home. All of it. Oh, happy day.
Think of it. All I was excited about were a couple of trinkets, maybe a prescription or two, an intended gift. Nothing compared to the importance of a human. Nothing compared to God’s joy in welcoming us home when we were mistaken. How much more does He love each golden jewel He calls His children? How much wider is His smile, how much louder is His voice when someone turns to Him and asks to come home?
He’s there, waiting. He checks out His holy window, anticipation lighting His eyes. Oh when will my child come back? “I’m back, Father, and I missed You.” Then the gates of heaven fling open and out rushes the sound of a thousand hands in applause. The child that was lost now is found. Everyone rejoice.
Imagine it.
