"The Lost Ones" | The Rev. Heidi Thorsen | September 14, 2025
Sermon Preached: Sunday, September 14, 2025 at Trinity on the Green (Parish Picnic)
Year C, Proper 19: Exodus 32:7-14 | Psalm 51:1-11 | 1 Timothy 1:12-17 | Luke 15:1-10
Between the words that I speak and the words that are heard, may God’s Spirit be present. Amen.
Jesus told many parables throughout his ministry. For example:
The kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed that starts small and grows incredibly large— as large as the trees that surround us in the park today.
In other parables the kingdom of Heaven is compared to yeast in a bowl, or a treasure hidden in a field, or a banquet full of people brought in off the streets.
To all of these excellent parables, I would like to add a modern one: the kingdom of Heaven is like a toddler’s bed, overflowing with stuffed animals.
Now hear me out.
My daughter S. loves to sleep in a bed that is full of stuffed animals. Some of you may be familiar with Matt the Cat, from a previous sermon. He was one of S.’s first favorite stuffed animals. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. These days Matt the Cat is joined by a pantheon of friends, including (but not limited to):
Hayden the unicorn
Fern and Skippy, the bunnies
Baby Oakley, Baby Coco, Baby Broccoli
Several plushie dinosaurs
An octopus
A highland cow
Clifford the big red dog
Brown teddy
Eeyore
Bulbasaur
And countless others
I’d like to add that several of these stuffed animals technically belong to S.’s younger sister, the baby, and that S. is “keeping them safe” for her at the moment.
The kingdom of Heaven is like a toddler’s bed, full of stuffed animals– where there is somehow, impossibly, room enough for everyone.
One of my daughter’s favorite delay tactics, when it comes to bedtime, is reminding me of one particular stuffed animal or object that has somehow gone missing from this fluffy communion of saints. For example, maybe it’s the blue dinosaur— and my daughter cannot go to bed until the entire house has been searched and the blue dinosaur has been restored to its place of honor in her bed. This is where today’s Gospel passage comes into play. If you want to understand the parable of the lost sheep, or the parable of the woman and the lost coin, just stop by my house for bedtime around 8pm on a weeknight. When my daughter loses track of even one of her precious friends, she lights a lamp, sweeps the house, and searches carefully until she finds it. Then, when the blue dinosaur is found, she calls together all of her friends and neighbors (yes, the fluffy ones) and she proclaims: “Rejoice with me! For I have found the dinosaur that I had lost!”
The next night it’s not the blue dinosaur, but something else. It’s her favorite soft green blanket. The next night it’s her Bluey water bottle. The next night it’s the twin bunny rabbits… and so on, and so forth.
This lived experience of my daughter’s precious stuffed animals has helped me to realize one critical way that I have misread the parable of the lost coin, and the parable of the lost sheep, in the past. In the past I read these stories as if there was only one coin that would ever go missing; or only one lost sheep that always needed to be found. In my mind it was always that one sheep; the reckless one that strayed too far from the flock. While I thought it was admirable that Jesus, the Good Shepherd, would go and find that one stray sheep, I mostly think of myself as one of the herd. Obedient enough to be kind of boring. Competent enough that the shepherd would never notice me, let alone seek me out.
But as the great parable of the toddler bed shows us: it isn’t just about that one sheep, or that one coin, or that one stuffed animal. Instead it is about every sheep, and every coin, and every stuffed animal, babydoll, blanket, and figurine. Each of us can become lost, at different times and in different ways. And each one of us deserves the extravagant love and attention of a God who will seek us out, and hold us close, and return us to a community where we can be seen, and known, and loved.
It is so easy these days to feel lost. We are lost– in the endless onslaught of news that leaves us fearful for ourselves, and for the world. We are lost– in the endless posts and photos of social media that sometimes help us feel closer to our loved ones, and at other times make us feel so very far away. We are lost– in the busy schedules of work and school and family and commutes. We are lost– in the less scheduled times of our lives, when we long for purpose and connection but aren’t sure where is best to put our time and energy.
Whenever you feel lost, remember that you are not the only one who feels that way. And remember that there is only so much you can do on your own to get yourself out of that lost place. Thankfully, it isn’t only up to you. God is always there, searching for us. Jesus, our Savior, is shining a light into every corner, every valley, every shadow, until each one of us is found.
In the eyes of God every human being is precious. May we live our lives with that same spirit, honoring the dignity of every human life. Shining our own light into the shadows so that we might find one another, welcoming each other back into the heart of this community. Welcoming each other back into the heart of God.
The kingdom of Heaven is like a toddler’s bed, full of stuffed animals– where there is somehow, impossibly, room enough for everyone. The kingdom of Heaven is like a toddler’s bed, where all of the lost ones are eventually found. Amen.