How much more?

I lost something precious.  Actually, let me rephrase.  I LEARNED this week that I lost something precious.  My baby sister got married a few weeks ago.  As part of the celebration, I loaned her my pearl earrings for her “something borrowed.”  Jerry, my husband, gave them to me the night before our wedding and I knew it would be an extra special touch for both my sister and I to have worn them in our weddings.  The morning after the wedding, there was much shuffle and packing up and repacking.  Lauren, the Bride, brought them to the rental house that morning and thought she gave them to me.  I don’t remember having them when we left.  My Mom had several other things I’d brought for use in the rehearsal dinner, wedding and reception, so I wrongly assumed the earrings were with those things, and she would bring them to me this weekend.  When the earrings weren’t there, I searched everywhere that I knew to search.  Every bag. Every pocket. Every lining. Every. Single. Place.  I cried and sobbed and panicked as I looked.  Surely, they would appear.  To make it worse, it has been weeks since they’ve been gone.  At the time of this writing, I am mourning that they still have not been found.  I know they are a material possession, but they were special.  My heart is broken to have lost this tangible piece of memories.  And we are continuing to search.  

I haven’t slept well since I learned they were gone.  My subconscious worries about lost earrings through the middle of the night.  In the pre-dawn hours this week, I began to remember two parables Jesus told.  In Luke 15, we first read Jesus’ story of a shepherd with 100 sheep.  He loses one, leaves the 99 to search for the one.  When he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and then calls friends together to rejoice with him.  In the verses immediately following, we read of a woman with ten coins and she loses one.  She looks all over, finds it and then calls her friends to celebrate with her.  As I lay there thinking about those stories, I thought of a third verse.  In Matthew 7, Jesus compares us as parents to God and says,

“How much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” 

Though the final verse is in a different context, I think we could apply it to the story of both the lost sheep and the lost coin.  The words could say, “If a shepherd searched for one sheep, how much more will God search for us?” Or “If the woman will look for one coin, how much more will God search for us?”

The answer to the “How much more?” question is answered clearly in John 3.  He “loved us so much he sent his only son so whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life… not to condemn the world, but that the world may be saved through him.”  How much more does the Father love us?  The answer is clear in Holy Week.  He loves us so much He didn’t call angels to protect Him in the Garden of Gethsemane.  So much He stood quiet in front of Pilate.  So much He endured flogging, a crown of thorns, the nails, death.  Until “It is Finished.”  Our debt paid. 

How much more does the Father love us?  He loves us so much that Death is not the end of the story.  Yes, Jesus died, but y’all! He came back.  For deserters.  For doubters.  For the scattered.  For the lost sheep.  For the lost coin.  For us. 

If the Shepherd rejoices over finding one sheep and places it joyfully on his shoulders, and the woman rejoices over finding one coin, how much more will the Father rejoice in finding one of us?  How much more will He call together the heavens to rejoice in our belief?

Sadly, I may never find my lost earrings as the shepherd found his sheep or as the woman found her coin.  I may not be able to celebrate the found, but I can and WILL celebrate the “how much more” love of my Savior Jesus and my Father in Heaven.  I hope you’ll join me in those celebrations in this Holy Week.

Many Blessings, Bethany