You Will Be Found

Friends, this is my last sermon at Germantown Mennonite Church, and it’s based on Luke 15:1-10.   In a few days, I begin a new ministry with the people at Frazer Mennonite Church in Malvern, PA.  

 

I know a bit about being lost.  

The first thing I know about being lost is that I really don’t enjoy it.  I’m not one of those folks that is like, “We’re lost! That’s great! Adventure time!”

I’m usually more like, “I’m lost?  What’s wrong with the GPS? How can this happen?  We’re gonna be late!”

The other things about being lost is that I’m usually the last to realize that I am lost.  And I will not ask for help. Charlie McGloughlin can testify to this, as can John Bergen. I’m sure I know where I am until I’m absolutely sure I don’t know where I am.  And then it’s a crisis.

When I prepare to lead a Christian Peacemaker Teams trip, I spend a lot of time making sure I know how to get where we’re going.  That’s not an easy task because using google map in Palestinian territories is nearly impossible. Many of the locations I visit literally can’t be found on any GPS, because Israel only recognizes Israeli territory on the GPS systems.  So I take a lot of notes about which bus to take, landmarks and anything else I can find to make sure I know where I’m going.

But even with the best of directions, and the best notes, sometimes I take the wrong bus.  

The first day of the delegation this year was my worst nightmare as a leader.  I got us on the bus headed to Anata road. But the bus was actually to the village of Anata, more specifically the refugee camp of Anata, outside the city of Jerusalem and through a checkpoint.  

The bus driver dropped us off in the center of this town that we weren’t supposed to be in, and sped off, and the group looked at me expectantly.  I looked around for someone that could speak English. By the way, even though I hate asking for help, it’s an amazing experience to ask someone, “Do you speak English?” and have that activate an entire group of people to help me.  This sort of thing never happens in this country.

One of the men in the group contacted his cousin, who spoke English, and I talked to him on the phone.  I told him where I wanted to go, and he instructed me on how to get there.

So, I confidently began to climb a steep hill with the delegation.  And a block in, I knew that I was in the wrong place. So, I started to look for help.  “Do you speak English?” “Do YOU speak English?” I was hot, exasperated, and really embarrassed to be leading my delegation astray on the first day, when I found someone to ask….one more time.  “Please…..do YOU speak English?”

The man didn’t speak English, but jumped into his car, began backing up the hill, and motioned for us to follow him.  

What choice did we have?  We were at his mercy. We were lost, and he found us. So, we followed.

The man excitedly backed into the driveway of his home, jumped out of the car, ran up the stairs to the entrance to his home, and then wildly gestured for us to come in.  

In the United States, this is the beginning of a horror film.  Cue the stabby music. But, what choice did we have? We were so lost.  

We reluctantly entered the house and found this man’s family in the living room.  They jumped up, offering us comfortable chairs, bottles of water and fans. And still, no one spoke English.  

And then Islam entered.  She was 22, beautiful in her colorful hijab, and radiating joy.  She greeted us in perfect English, introducing herself, and all the other members of her family.  The father, who brought us to the house, the mother (Reem), the sisters, brothers and Aunt.

Her family offered us classic Palestinian hospitality–tea, then coffee, then grapefruit juice, and sweets.  Then, once we were all comfortable, hydrated and smiling, Islam asked, “Now where were you going?” I showed her the website for the organization we were visiting, and she called them.  She laughed and said, “You are nowhere near where you are supposed to be”, which I knew. Islam instructed her father to call a van to pick us up, and we prepared to leave.

But this family was not done showing us love and hospitality.  Islam’s mother, Reem, said to me, through her daughter, “Can you all come back?  For dinner?”

By now we were all practically family.  So how could I say no. We arranged to come back in a few days for dinner.  

And as, you might imagine, the dinner was amazing, the hookah was top notch and the kinship was easy.  The Issa family, even though we haven’t known them for long, are connected to me now in deep ways.

And this family that found us by pure accident is now our family.  A few of us are hoping to be in Palestine next summer in time for Islam’s wedding.  Because that’s what family does.

I don’t like being lost.  Because I am not in control.  But I can’t think of a better way to begin this year’s trip than to get lost in Anata.  I can’t think of a better way to begin this trip than to be out of control, to be at the mercy of strangers, to be forced to rely on people and relationships rather than my GPS and my good planning.  

Because when we are lost, we will be found.

This experience in Palestine this year feels very familiar to me.  Because it reminds me of the ways I have felt found by this congregation.  

I arrived here at this congregation in 1996, and I was very lost.  And angry. And overhwelmed. I had just moved to Philadelphia with Charlie, and made big plans to do a rational, reasonable church search in Philadelphia. But, all that changed when I walked into 21 West Washington Lane.  

I felt at home here the moment I stepped into this building.  And there’s no reason I should have. There was a lot of crying that first Sunday.  The kind of crying that should scare off new folks. The kind of crying about personal pain that leaves strangers feeling awkward and uncomfortable.  But all I could think was, “My people! I found them!”

To try to describe the feeling of being found by this congregation only makes sense to a small group of people–usually it’s folks like me that have walked through these doors and described this place as “home.”  I can look out into this room and see plenty of folks that have no other word for this feeling than…home.

This is home.  

And it feels good to have been found by you.  It feels good to know that even when I was busy making rational, reasonable plans, God laughed and dropped me at the door to this community.  God showed me the green doors of Germantown Mennonite, and I knew I was home. I knew i was found.

And not just found, but celebrated, loved and cared for.  

Y’all have celebrated with us when our babies were born, you rejoiced with each new job we’ve taken on, you’ve made us food (Rita–that chicken salad is legendary in our home, and Ruth Marino, your pies–delicious!), brought us flowers from your garden.  You’ve sent cards, which in my opinion is an underappreciated spiritual gift. Beth Sutter remembers me on Mother’s day every year, because she knows how hard it is for me.

When I was lost, you found me.  You showed me the way of Jesus, a way that is risky and daring doesn’t care what others think.  And you celebrated with me, just as you have celebrated each other here.

Being found by all of you 22 years ago gives me the courage, the strength, and the certainty to get lost again.  You give me the courage to get lost in a denomination that I’ve been taunting from the sidelines for the last year.

Because I know you will be here, finding each other, looking after each other, feeding each other, celebrating and grieving with each other.  I know that you will be found.

And I know that I will be found.  Wherever I go. Whether it be the suburbs, the village of Anata, or some other place I didn’t mean to end up.  God will keep finding me, and God will keep finding you. And God will celebrate us all!

I don’t like getting lost.  It’s a terrible, out of control feeling.  But I have enough past experience to know that God’s going to keep finding me.  And I have enough experience here at Germantown Mennonite Church to know that God will find you in this transition, in our national uncertainty, and in the chaos of our personal lives.  God will find us. God is finding us. God will rejoice in finding us. AMEN.