Day 23 - Monday, December 23
Title: Christ Came to Seek the Lost
Scripture #1: Luke 19:10 (NKJV)
“For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost.”
Scripture #2: Luke 15:11–24 (NKJV)
Then He said: “A certain man had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the portion of goods that falls to me.’ So he divided to them his livelihood. And not many days after, the younger son gathered all together, journeyed to a far country, and there wasted his possessions with prodigal living. But when he had spent all, there arose a severe famine in that land, and he began to be in want. Then he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would gladly have filled his stomach with the pods that the swine ate, and no one gave him anything. “But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.” ’ And he arose and came to his father. But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight, and am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ “But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet. And bring the fatted calf here and kill it, and let us eat and be merry; for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ And they began to be merry.”

Poetry:
“Portrait in Night Shade and Delayed Translation”
by C. Dale Young

In Saint Petersburg, on an autumn morning,
having been allowed an early entry
to the Hermitage, my family and I wandered
the empty hallways and corridors, virtually every space

adorned with famous paintings and artwork.
There must be a term for overloading on art.
One of Caravaggio’s boys smirked at us,
his lips a red that betrayed a sloppy kiss

recently delivered, while across the room
the Virgin looked on with nothing but sorrow.
Even in museums, the drama is staged.
Bored, I left my family and, steered myself,

foolish moth, toward the light coming
from a rotunda. Before me, the empty stairs.
Ready to descend, ready to step outside
into the damp and chilly air, I felt

the centuries-old reflex kick in, that sense
of being watched. When I turned, I found
no one; instead, I was staring at The Return
of the Prodigal Son. I had studied it, written about it

as a student. But no amount of study could have
prepared me for the size of it, the darkness of it.
There, the son knelt before his father, his dirty foot
left for inspection. Something broke. As clichéd

as it sounds, something inside me broke, and
as if captured on film, I found myself slowly sinking
to my knees. The tears began without warning until soon
I was sobbing. What reflex betrays one like this?

What nerve agent did Rembrandt hide
within the dark shades of paint that he used?
What inside me had malfunctioned, had left me
kneeling and sobbing in a museum?

Prosto plakat. Prosto plakat. Osvobodi sebya
said the guard as his hands steadied my shoulders.
He stood there repeating the phrase until
I stopped crying, until I was able to rise.

I’m not crazy, nor am I a very emotional man.
For most of my life, I have been called, correctly, cold.
As a student, I catalogued the techniques, carefully
analyzed this painting for a class on the “Dutch Masters.”

Years later, having mustered the courage to tell
this ridiculous story, a friend who spoke Russian
translated the guard’s words for me: “Just cry. Just cry.
Free yourself.” But free myself from what, exactly?

You see, I want this whole thing to be something
meaningful, my falling to my knees in front of a painting
by Rembrandt, a painting inspired by a parable
of forgiveness offered by a father to his lost son.

But nothing meaningful has presented itself. Even now,
after so much time has passed, I have no clue
what any of this means. I still haven’t figured out
whether or not I am the lost son or the found.

CHRIST CAME TO SEEK THE LOST

Here, straight up, is the bottom line of today’s good news: God, who created us, desires for us to be with Him. He intently attends to us every day, all day long. We are never lost to Him, though we may run and hide and say “no” to Him. We may even be lost to ourselves! But we are never lost to Him. He inclines toward us and initiates with us. The Father’s love is steadfast. He finds us when we are lost.

Our human condition is lostness. Since the Garden of Eden, we have been running and hiding from the One who loves us most. The younger son in Luke’s story ran away—he thought he wanted the “goods,” not the father. Functionally, he said to his father, “You are dead to me. Just give me my inheritance. I don’t want you—I just want your stuff!” So, the stupid boy left his home country, full of “stuff,” and joined himself to other prodigals. This did not work out well for him. After the stuff was gone, he found himself starving, empty, alone, and lost. Without the status or the resources of a son, he joined the alien culture as a hired hand; he ended up feeding pigs (the Jewish hearers would have gasped at this lowly position—eww, pigs!), and found himself starving—too lost and low to even be given pig food.

Empty and right-sized at last, the young man found his true estate as a son: he came to himself and remembered his father. His attachment was secure because he remembered what his dad was like. He knew that his dad would fill the emptiness in his belly. So, he turned around and went home, went to find his father, planning his penitent petition. He practiced what he would say to convince his dad to sustain his life—though he deserved nothing.

Picture this: finally facing the right direction, the empty vagabond returns home. And the father is looking for him. The father has never forgotten this one; he has held him in his heart and in his mind’s eye constantly. This well-off Middle Eastern landowner, with robes flying, runs to meet his bedraggled, starving son. He runs out of love and the desire to have his son with him. He runs to meet his son’s needs. Mind-blowing picture here! I mean, when have you ever seen such a man drop his dignity and run to embrace a dirty, unhoused beggar?

But wait, there’s more! The father welcomes him not as a servant, but back into his full position as a son! The young man is now being served by servants. He’s given the best robe, sandals for those bare, worn-down feet, a ring for those dirty calloused hands…and food for his empty belly (the best food!). And the father says, “Let’s party! Let us eat and be merry; for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.” And it happened—they began to be merry!

Sit with the sturdiness and the intent gaze of the father in Van Korzhev’s sculpture and be embraced by Martin Smith’s glorious homecoming music. Bask in the love of a welcoming Father who runs to hug and kiss His lost children.

Presence, provision, fellowship, friendship, mutual affection, closeness, and love. This is what your father desires to have with you. So much so, that He sent your big brother Jesus down here to rescue you and make a way back home to the Father.

Repent and come home for Christmas this year—the Father is looking for you.

And then,

Rejoice and be merry this Christmas!

Merry Christmas, indeed!

Prayer:
"O merciful Lord, grant to your faithful people pardon and peace, that we may be cleansed from all our sins and serve you with a quiet mind; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen."
     Book of Common Prayer, 2019, Proper 21

Betsy A. Barber, Psy.D.
Faculty Emerita, Institute for Spiritual Formation
Talbot School of Theology
Supervisor, Biola Counseling Center

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