Lost

I can still remember the day I got lost.  I was seven years old and we’d just moved to Germany, to the Army post that was home for nearly three years.  There was another family, one of Dad’s high school friends, who lived about 30 miles from us at a neighboring post.  They had three girls, just like my family, and somehow I was left with them for the weekend.  I was brand new to Germany, didn’t know these people, but did what I was told.  As most of the kids on post, we got dropped off at the Saturday matinee by their father.  We girls would all be walking home after the movie was over, a safe venture at that time.  It sounded like a great plan.

When we walked out of the theater, all going every direction, I was separated from my friends.  All I knew was that her name was BJ (Beverly Jean, I found out later), no last name, no address.  I wandered around, trying to find something that looked familiar.  Nothing.  I began to cry, so afraid and alone.  A German family rode by and saw me, stopped and talked to me, and kept saying, “Police,” so I got in the car with them and they took me to the MP station (Military Police).  I knew I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere with strangers, but I was hopeless, I was desperate.

In the MP station, I was met by a number of young men asking lots of questions.  “What’s your name?  Where do you live?  How old are you?”  I could answer those questions, but I didn’t know who I was staying with, I didn’t live here, and all I knew was “BJ.”  We rode around in the MP jeep, looking for their apartment, but government housing all looked the same.  I had only been there for less than a day, I had no idea which building they lived in.  So we went back to the MP station, they bought me ice cream, a Coke, and a comic book.  These were mostly young guys, 19- and 20-somethings, and they had no idea what to do with a lost seven-year-old girl.  I remember sheer relief when BJ’s dad came rushing in and claimed me, and then we went back to their apartment for the rest of the weekend. 

I remember another day I realized I was lost.  I was just out of junior college, and we were having a revival at my home church.  One of the guys in my youth group had really challenged me for several years with his devotion to reading the Bible every day.  He’d tell me what he’d read and ask me what I thought.  I’d never THOUGHT to think about what the Bible said, as odd as that may seem.  At the time, I had been searching for whatever it was that was missing in my life, knowing it existed somewhere.  It surely wasn’t in achievement or talent, and it couldn’t be ignored.

I don’t recall what the message was about that particular night, I just knew I was lost.  I didn’t have what Charles had, and it seemed so valuable to him.  He was at peace.  Never had anyone my age been so convinced of truth, of who God is, and confident in his faith.   Old Sunday School verses came to me--“All of us like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; but the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him.”  (Is. 53:6)   “For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost.”  (Luke 19:10)  I’m so thankful He found me! 

We see people all around us every day who have no idea what is wrong, what is missing.  “It must be everyone else,” “If only I had _______,” “If only….”  What is missing in their lives is JESUS.  Are we looking for ways to reach into their pain and show them the way?  Do we see the look in their eyes that says they want/need help?  Do we live in expectation of being used by Him to be that ambassador?  Or are we so self-focused that it doesn’t even occur to us?  Have we forgotten what it felt like to be lost, and to be found?

May we have eyes wide open to the people God puts in our lives so that we can truly SEE.  And may there be MANY lost people who are found!