I hate lost things, I muttered to myself as I slouched across our bed for the umpteenth time today, tears making my cough worse. It started with a lost library movie. Which I found lying nonchalantly under someone’s bed. Then when we were finally ready to actually GO to the library I noticed the keys we needed were not on my carabiner. Thus began lost things, take two. An hour later and still no keys, but plenty of tears, I gave up and plopped across our bed again. Everything lost perspective, became a blur, and I could only see annoyance, not providence.
Elijah said to me, Mom, do you think that maybe God has a reason we can’t find the keys? I prickled at his astuteness amidst my tearing apart of our house. Yes, I’m sure He does, but I have no idea what it is. My voice was not exactly dripping with grace.
Yeah, He always has a reason, Elijah remarked calmly.
I wasn’t really listening to my nine-year-old and his wisdom, but I’m listening now.
My mind also wanders to a song known by many.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found; was blind but now I see.
I’m so glad Jesus doesn’t hate lost things. He has a mind-blowing purpose for each and every one of us: lost and ugly sinners. When we let ourselves be found by Him, we become part of the biggest search and rescue effort ever launched. The key to getting found is to recognize you are lost. And you know what? He never, ever, gives up.