Scripture: Luke 15:1–5
“Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’
Then Jesus told them this parable: ‘Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders…’”
There’s a kind of holiness that keeps its robes clean and its hands in its pockets — the kind that crosses the street when it sees trouble limping along the sidewalk. That was the religion of the Pharisees. They drew lines in the sand and dared sinners to cross them. But then came Jesus, wild-eyed with mercy, calling the unworthy to dinner, and kicking over the chalk lines of respectability.
Jesus didn’t just welcome sinners. He ate with them. In the ancient world, sharing a meal wasn’t just about food. It meant friendship. Acceptance. Solidarity. And to the pious onlookers, that was scandal enough to grind their teeth to dust.
So Jesus flipped the script.
He told a story. A shepherd — gritty, wind-chapped, tough as barbed wire — notices one sheep gone missing. He doesn’t sit there counting his losses or figuring percentages. He goes. Through thorns, over hills, across ravines. And when he finds the lost one, he doesn’t scold it. He lifts it. Joyfully. Slings it across his shoulders like a precious burden.
It was the same with the woman and the lost coin, and the father with the prodigal son. Same story, three times: God isn’t waiting for you to grovel your way back. He’s coming for you. With love that hunts. A joy that lifts. A grace that refuses to give up.
The world still hasn’t caught up. We keep drawing lines — between the holy and the broken, the worthy and the shamed. We act like we’ve earned our place at the table, when the truth is, not one of us got here by being good enough. As C.S. Lewis once said, “A cold, self-righteous prig who goes regularly to church may be far nearer to hell than a prostitute.”
I remember when I was a young seminary student, there was this heated debate about something called “second-degree separation.” It meant not only should Christians stay clear of the world, but they should also avoid other Christians who weren’t separate enough from the world.
I saw this play out firsthand when I was heading off to study at the University of Jerusalem. One of my closest friends — a man whose heart was cracked wide open by a brutal divorce — came with me. Some folks who believed in second-degree separation wouldn’t talk to me because I was still talking to him. As if grace had limits. As if mercy had conditions. At the time, I thought, This can’t be what Jesus meant by holiness.
This Sunday, Pastor Mark is leading us in flipping the script. Reclaiming a Jesus-shaped vision of love — the kind that doesn’t flinch at messiness, doesn’t pull away from the hurting, and doesn’t treat people like spiritual contagions.
So come. Bring your bruises, your doubts, your weariness — and maybe a friend or two who’s felt left out of church too long. Jesus has a seat at the table for them. For you. For us all.
And remember: even sheep who wander off still belong to the Shepherd.
Oh, and if you’re worried about being the one lost sheep, just know — you’re in good company. At least you’re not the guy who tried to baptize a cat. That didn’t go well. (Don’t ask. Trust me.)
See you Sunday at 10:30.
Your friend for the rest of my life,
Pastor Tim White