“The church is starting a Reclamation ministry,” he says, his eyes are searching mine.
The Saturday sun is awake and glowing. And I turn my eyes away from the glare, “hmm, interesting.” It’s all I can muster. I’m curled in a fetal position, under a black camping bag. I’ve turned the couch into a bed and my stomach is churning from what I do not know.
He returns my grunt and lifts himself off the couch. I wonder in the silence that he leaves behind what a Reclamation ministry is exactly.
After lunch my eyes open and he’s back on the couch beside me–his legs stretched out in front of him, he is now sleeping. And the only sounds are the cheers of an Olympic audience from the television screen.
Reclaim–it’s the root word. And most of the world expects Phelps to do just that. To reclaim his fame for another four years.
I cheer for Lochte on the edge of my seat–hope with each stroke that he will win. Hope that someone will be brave enough to make winning mean something different. Something that doesn’t sound like entitlement but evangelism.
He smiles when I tell him what I am thinking. Because sheep beget sheep. And shouldn’t the whole world join in the search for the lost ones.
4-7“Suppose one of you had a hundred sheep and lost one. Wouldn’t you leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the lost one until you found it? When found, you can be sure you would put it across your shoulders, rejoicing, and when you got home call in your friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Celebrate with me! I’ve found my lost sheep!’ Count on it—there’s more joy in heaven over one sinner’s rescued life than over ninety-nine good people in no need of rescue.
He speaks above the whooping for the winner, that Reclamation is the ache of everyone that has ever been found. To unite hearts with His Holiness. Because Christ has never offered anything short of reconciliation.
Friends flash in my mind, others that once shared pews, sheep that were my sisters. When did I stop searching? When did being found become my end?
The world watches while athletes grope for a win–except we are all losing. One sheep goes and another follows and most are wandering lost.
Today, reach out to one wandering–reclaim a win?