“No matter who you are, or where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here.” We say this every week as part of our welcome, as part of the description of who we are and who we are striving to become as a faith community. It is not an Edgewood catchphrase, but rather part of our denomination’s, the United Church of Christ, promotion of extravagant welcome as a pillar of our faith and practice.

We say this every week and for some of us it is a relief, a reaffirmation that yes, we are welcome, yes we do belong here. Yes, God is wider and larger and more full of grace for all, even us. And it is also a challenge, a reminder that God’s grace is poured out on all people, even those radically different than we are.

The early church community really struggled with this. Who was counted as a Christian? What did it mean to be a ‘real’ Christian? Were Christians Jews who believed in Jesus, a Jew himself, or should the Christian community be open to gentiles? Paul, in letter after letter, wrote to the churches speaking about inclusion and grace and the ministry of Jesus being open to any who found Jesus, believed in Jesus, followed Jesus…. Even those who sinned.

We don’t talk about sin much at Edgewood. Or in most of the United Church of Christ in general.  What is sin anyway?

Sin can be defined as anything that separates us from God. This can be going against the law of God or moral wrongdoing.

Sin is both active—you can commit a sin, do something--called sins of commission, and also passive—you can sin by doing nothing--called sins of omission. As the Anglican book of prayer liturgy expresses it “ we ask for forgiveness for things we have done and things we have left undone.”

We can deliberately, maliciously, or just lazily go out and sin. Or we can passively or even ignorantly sin.

The letter from 1Timothy addresses sin right up front, within the first ten verses. Paul says I was the worst, the very worst sinner. I turned away from God, I denied Christ.

We know from other sections of our New Testament that Paul was present and certainly culpable in the stoning of Stephen, a prominent Christian disciple. So Paul was a murderer. Paul also admits that he persecuted Christians. I was the very worst said Paul, even if I did it in ignorance. And yet Paul continues Jesus Christ embraced me, loved me, called to me, and accepted me. As Jesus says in today’s parable, there was more rejoicing over one sinner repenting than ninety nine righteous men.

Jesus says that the love of God is like a shepherd who would leave the ninety-nine to go look for the one who was lost, the one who sinned, the one who wandered in the wildernes.

Do we really believe that?  Do we who think we are terrible sinners really believe God would come looking for us-- not looking for us to punish us, guilt us or berate us, but to gather us up with love, sins and all, and welcome us home?

And for those of us who think we are the ninety-nine, how do we feel about the shepherd leaving all of us “good ones” to go look for the rotten, irresponsible, sinful one and leaving us on our own….?

In some ways I think we need to take a good hard look at ourselves and realize that no one is ever always part of the ninety-nine. We all sin. We do. Inadvertently certainly, but knowingly as well. Ignorantly, yes, but ignorance is not an excuse. Claiming ignorance only gives us a shaky alibi as to why we did nothing, or continued  in our wayward behavior.

At one time or another we have all been the one and God has coming looking for us. But God doesn’t come to rescue us or buoy us up just so we can lock the gate behind us. We then have to look after each other for God is always out looking for the next lost one.

Paul carries around enormous guilt and shame about his former years as a persecutor as Christians. We may say at some point, “enough already, we don’t need to hear the litany of shame once again,” but Paul’s confession is powerful. Paul, this icon of the church, this founder of churches and the Christian tradition, Paul who is one of the reasons this church is even here today, still at his core remembers himself not as the powerful speaker and leader that he is, but as the weak, sinful, angry man he was.

I wonder how many of us project a great, proficient, capable exterior yet inside the critical voices, the internal jury, is constantly tearing us to shreds?

It’s only as I’ve gotten older that I have come to a greater measure of compassion for those highly critical, unhappy people who can poison the atmosphere in a room with just a few remarks. How hard it can be to love that person as Jesus asks us to love. What has become clear to me though is that folks who criticize others often have an even more brutal critical voice inside—a shaming, blaming, jeering voice from which there is no respite. 

As “good, church-going, progressive” Christians we are all set to love Palestinians, and homeless folks, and people with ethnic or racial differences. Enthusiastic, even. But then there is how one mom responded to her 10 year old son who was saying after church one day that he thinks he could love everyone, surely he could love everyone, how hard could it be? The mom says with some irony, “ok, honey, why don’t you start with your sister?”

Why don’t we start with the person who is driving us crazy three pews behind us? And then let’s take a good look at our own selves…

The good news is that God always, always, always is waiting for us to return, is hoping for us, seeking us out, trying to show us the way back to love. Always. There is no sin that can permanently separate us from God. There is nothing that can separate anyone from God. And as the church, part of our call, what Paul is trying to instill in the early churches, is to be the ones welcoming in sinners as we have been welcomed in.

Some churches in this country in the nineteenth century saw themselves as lighthouses, a place where the light of God shone out into the community. This light was a beacon so that those who were lost could come in from the storm and find refuge from the wilderness and tragedy and sin of their own lives. It was an apt analogy and pointed to the fact that churches were not only a place where we rescue those who are oppressed by the systems of this world, but churches also offered a place for folks to reckon with their choices and choose a new path in the midst of a supportive and compassionate community.

It can be hard to remember this in the midst of team meetings, funding new heating system, and the weekly rounds of worship and coffee hour. It is not to care for the sinners “out there” but to welcome them in here and to know, to really know, that we are welcome too no matter what we have done or left undone.

For Jesus tells us God is like the shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine and goes looking for the one who is lost. And we are to do likewise.

• We are not asked to evaluate whether the lost deserves saving.
• We are not asked to judge whether the lost person brought their current predicament upon themselves.
• We are not asked to rate their sin as lesser or greater than our own.
• We are not asked to turn away lest we ourselves be revealed as just as sinful a person as the one we are asked to help.

As the letter to Timothy states, Jesus came to save sinners—that being all of us—and Jesus has utmost patience, not only with Paul, but with all of us. Thank God.

Kate Braestrup is a chaplain to the Maine warden service, the men and women who go out into the woods when there is a boating accident, lost hiker, snowmobile accident, shooting, or suicide. They seek the lost under frigid water, through wilderness in coming darkness, or as someone is walking through the dark night of the soul.

She shares the story of a young woman named Betsy who had struggled and struggled with depression and mental illness and finally one day took enough sleeping pills and stumbled off into the woods to die. Her brother got very worried and called the warden service which started looking. It took many hours to find her and she was not found in time. Her death was ruled a suicide.

The brother was called, who was then immersed in grief and loss. And as he was talking to Kate Braestrup the chaplain who’d been called to the scene, he asked what would happen to the body. She explained the coroner’s procedure. Then a few minutes later he said that wasn’t really the question he was asking. What he wanted to know was can the church bury her?

The brother explained that his sister had gone to church the previous week and the pastor’s message had been that suicide was the one sin that God never, ever forgave. So, the brother thought that the church would not allow a funeral nor a burial for his sister. He waited, despairing, for her confirmation.

After a moment Braestrup said to him, “look around,” and pointed to the wardens still clustered around the scene.

“The game wardens have been walking in the rain all day, walking through the woods in the freezing rain trying to find your sister. They would have walked all day tomorrow, walked in the cold rain the rest of the week, searching for Betsy so they could bring her home to you. And if there is one thing I am sure of—one thing I am very, very sure of, --it is that God is not less kind, less committed, or less merciful than a Maine game warden.” (Here if You Need Me, Kate Braestrup)

Which is not to say that suicide is a sin. I do not believe that is true, though some Christians do. But it is to say that no matter how lost we get, no matter what we do or leave undone, no matter who we are or where we are on life’s journey, God is always out looking for us.

Paul was a terrible person in his early days. No, let me revise that. Paul did terrible things, made terrible choices, in his early days--murder, oppression, intolerance, elitism. And yet Jesus sought him, found him, chose him, loved him, rescued him. God went looking for the one instead of the ninety-nine. And then told Paul to do likewise.

When we wander into the wilderness, when we are lost, whether in a murky mess of sin and bad choices, or in the darkening pit of despair, God goes looking for us, seeking us, offering us a hand, and forgiveness and mercy and a new chance. Always. And asks us to do likewise. Thanks be to God. 

Amen.