Today a friend reminded me of the story of the lost sheep. He reminded me because right now, I’m grieving over one who is lost. This one’s old enough to be on his own, but not wise enough yet to manage his independence. He’s cocky and tough on the outside, but his heart is like wax. He knows just enough about the things of the world to endanger himself, and just enough about the things of heaven to run from danger. I have no idea which way he’ll turn, or when.

He knows where I am, and he knows that he’s loved. I only know he’s lost.

Luke the apostle tells the story of the lost one like this: “Suppose one of you had a hundred sheep and lost one. Wouldn’t you leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the lost one until you found it? When found, you can be sure you would put it across your shoulders, rejoicing, and when you got home call in your friends and neighbors, saying, “Celebrate with me! I’ve found my lost sheep!’ Count on it–there’s more joy in heaven over one sinner’s rescued life than over ninety-nine good people in no need of rescue.” (Luke 15:4-7, The Message)

I can’t find my lost one. I have no idea where to begin looking. I don’t even know if he wants to be found. I want to protect him and plead his case and call him back home, but none of those options are open to me. The choices are all his now.

I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true: until this lost one disappeared, I had no idea how my wanderings must have pierced the heart of God. I do now.

I know that His eye was trained on me, and that He knew my whereabouts all along. I know He watched each step, and that He called to me in a voice I barely recognized, but one that beckoned me just the same.

There is a place, a point in time, a moment – where the heart becomes too hard to hear the loving voice that whispers “please come home.” I’m begging God to hold that moment at arm’s length just a little while longer, and to keep following my lost sheep for as long as it takes. I’m praying that his heart stays soft for another day, another night, another hour.

I wish I had done more. I wish I had been wiser. I wish I had called sooner; stayed on the phone longer. Asked more questions. Demanded more answers.

But more than anything, I wish to see my precious Shepherd walking toward me, carrying on His shoulders this sheep I love named Sean.

“GOD, the Master, says: From now on, I myself am the shepherd. I’m going looking for them.” Ezekiel 34:11, The Message.

© Leigh McLeroy 2003