Lost Things

May 31

In most areas of my life, I would judge myself as average. I’m quite a bit less than average musically. I fiddle around with the bassoon, am passable on electric bass (although I can’t slap it or do complicated runs), a rank amateur on upright bass. The latter I love far beyond my abilities. As a mechanic, I can change spark plugs, oil, tires, and brakes most of the time. Other than that, I’m the guy who lifts the hood, looks around knowingly, and takes it to the shop. 

People have told me I’m a pretty good preacher; I’ll have to let others be the judge of that. I’ve heard too much really good preaching to rank myself with the masters. I would like to think I was a good pastor, but when I look back, it’s easier for me to see missed opportunities and wasted efforts than wild (or even mild) success. At least I was able to present my successor with a healthy congregation. 

My cooking is legendary. As in, you don’t want anything I’ve cooked anywhere near your mouth. Except for omelettes and cranberry scones. I’m pretty good with those. And with hot dogs on the grill, as long as you don’t mind the bits of char on your teeth.

But I am coming into my own when it comes to losing things. If losing stuff were ranked like the martial arts, I am close to becoming a multiple black belt. From temporarily misplacing keys or tools, I have graduated to completely losing track of my favorite Bible, an English/Spanish bilingual volume that I had in our men’s Bible study two weeks ago, and haven’t seen since. And as I write tonight, I notice that somewhere, I’ve lost two days this month. I haven’t a clue as to where I mislaid them, but as I scroll down the days, they are definitely gone. How is it possible to do this? It’s not as if I can look around the house for them, lifting cushions on the couch or rummaging through my closet.

Though it might not make any difference relative to my Bible or these two missing days, I am grateful that our God specializes in lost things, specifically, lost people. He spares no effort, shrinks from no risk in his quest for lost souls. I am grateful tonight that this is the kind of God I serve; he kept looking even while I was running, and didn’t give up until he found me and brought me back to himself.