I get frustrated when my GPS keeps recalculating. There’s something deeply unsettling about that automated voice constantly announcing “recalculating” just when I thought I knew where I was going. It can be applied to life. I used to think that by this stage of life, I’d have a clear route mapped out, but instead, I find myself on more detours than ever before.
This reminds me of an ancient story about a merchant who prided himself on always knowing the way.
This merchant had traveled the same trade route for twenty years. He knew every rock, every tree, every bend in the path.
One morning, he set out with a caravan of younger merchants who wanted to learn from his navigation expertise. But overnight, a tremendous storm passed through the region. When they reached what should have been a familiar valley, the merchant stopped in confusion. The storm had altered the landscape. The landmarks had shifted or disappeared entirely.
The merchant tried to maintain his composure, choosing path after path, each time declaring, “This is the way.” But each chosen route led to dead ends or circled back to where they started. By afternoon, the younger merchants realized what the veteran refused to admit: they were completely lost.
As the sun began to set, panic crept into the merchant’s voice. His reputation, his identity, his very sense of self was tied to knowing the way.
Finally, a young girl from a nearby village appeared on a ridge above them. “Are you lost?” she called down.
The merchant’s pride flared. “We’re not lost. We’re just recalculating our route.”
The girl laughed gently. “The storm changed everything. Your old paths are gone. But if you stop trying and follow me, I can lead you to where you need to be.”
The younger merchants immediately began following the girl, but the veteran merchant hesitated. To follow meant admitting he was lost. To follow meant his decades of experience couldn’t save him. To follow meant trusting someone else’s knowledge over his own.
With trembling steps, he finally followed. The girl led them through passages he’d never seen, using stars he’d never noticed, to a village he didn’t know existed—where warm food and shelter awaited all storm-displaced travelers.
“How did you know we were lost?” the merchant asked the girl.
She smiled. “After every storm, my grandma sends me to search. She says the ones who need finding most are those who don’t know they’re lost. You weren’t lost because you didn’t know the old way—you were lost because the old way no longer existed. Being found isn’t failure. It’s wisdom.”
This story captures a deep truth about our current moment. We’re not just dealing with occasional recalculations—we’re living in a permanent storm season where the landscape constantly shifts beneath our feet.
For example, AI has changed everything. Career paths that existed five years ago have vanished and more will vanish soon. The very assumptions we built our lives upon keep requiring updates. We’re exhausted not from the journey, but from the constant recalculating.
But here’s the profound comfort hidden in today’s scripture: while we’re frantically recalculating, trying to find our way, God has already sent out a search party. We’re actively being sought by One who knows exactly where we are and exactly how to bring us home. Let’s see how Jesus reveals to us this truth.
The scripture lesson for today is from the Gospel of Luke 15:1-10.
[Listen to the word of the Lord!]
Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. 2 And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”
3 So he told them this parable: 4 “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? 5 When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices.
6 And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ 7 Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.
8 “Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it?
9 When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ 10 Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”
[Blessed are those who delight in God’s Word. Thanks be to God.]
This passage opens with a scene of religious controversy. The Pharisees and scribes are grumbling because Jesus is welcoming tax collectors and sinners, even eating with them. In their worldview, these people are lost causes, spiritual GPS failures who should be avoided, not sought.
Jesus responds with two parables that completely recalculate our understanding of being lost and found.
First, the parable of the lost sheep. A shepherd has one hundred sheep, and one wanders off. Notice that Jesus doesn’t explain why the sheep got lost. The shepherd leaves the ninety-nine and searches until he finds the one.
In the ancient world, this was economically irrational. Risk ninety-nine for one? The GPS of conventional wisdom would never calculate that route. But divine navigation operates on different principles. In God’s economy, every single one matters infinitely.
The second parable intensifies this truth. A woman loses one of ten silver coins. She lights a lamp, sweeps the house, and searches carefully until she finds it. The Greek word here for “carefully” suggests meticulous, thorough, relentless searching. She doesn’t wait for the coin to find its way back to her purse. She actively seeks.
Here’s what’s remarkable: in both parables, the lost item cannot find its own way back. The sheep is unable to navigate home alone. The coin is inanimate—it has no capacity to return itself to the woman’s collection. Their being found depends entirely on being sought.
Jesus is addressing those who believe life is about having the right maps, following the right routes, never deviating from the prescribed path. But he reveals that salvation isn’t about our navigation skills—it’s about being found by One who never stops searching.
The celebration that follows each finding is extraordinary. The shepherd calls together friends and neighbors. The woman does the same. Jesus says,
“Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.” (Lk 15:7).
But here’s the subtle truth: those ninety-nine who “need no repentance” might be the most lost of all, because they don’t know they need to be found.
When Jesus says these parables to every one of us whose life GPS keeps announcing “recalculating,” who feel lost in the very success we’ve achieved, who are exhausted from trying to navigate a constantly changing landscape with outdated maps.
This passage calls us to completely recalculate our understanding of being spiritually lost and found through the LOST framework:
L – Let Go of Your Own Navigation
The first step to being found is admitting you’re lost. This is perhaps the hardest recalculation we face. We live in a culture that celebrates self-made success, that treats asking for directions as weakness. We’d rather drive in circles for hours than admit we don’t know where we are.
King Solomon said:
“Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” (Pr 3:5-6).
Notice it doesn’t say he’ll make your paths easy or predictable—but straight, direct, purposeful.
Letting go of our own navigation doesn’t mean becoming passive. It means recognizing that our internal GPS might be operating with outdated software. How many of us are exhausting ourselves trying to navigate life with maps drawn for a world that has fundamentally changed?
When we let go of our own navigation, we stop the frantic recalculating and create space for divine direction. We shift from asking “How do I find my way?” to “Am I willing to be found?”
O – Open to Divine Recalculation
Here’s a radical thought: what if every time your life GPS recalculates, it’s not a failure but a divine redirect? What if those frustrating detours are actually God’s way of routing you around dangers you can’t see or toward blessings you didn’t know existed?
Paul reminds us:
“We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” (Ro 8:28).
This doesn’t mean all things are good, but that Providence can recalculate any situation for ultimate good.
The woman searching for her coin lights a lamp and sweeps the house. She changes the conditions to make finding possible. When we open to divine recalculation, we allow Providence to illuminate corners of our lives we’ve kept dark, to sweep away the dust that obscures our vision, to create conditions where we can be found.
Think about your most frustrating recalculations—the job loss that led to a better career, the health crisis that recalculated your priorities toward what truly matters. Opening to divine recalculation means trusting that the One who searches for us sees the entire map, not just our limited viewport.
S – Surrender to Being Searched For
This might be the most countercultural aspect of Jesus’ teaching. We’re trained to be seekers, to take charge of our spiritual journey, to find ourselves. But Jesus reveals that we’re not the primary seekers—we’re the sought.
Ezekiel captures this divine initiative powerfully:
“For thus says the Lord GOD: I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out.” (Ezekiel 34:11).
Notice the emphatic “I myself”—not through intermediaries, not passively waiting, but God personally, actively searching. Providence is already searching before we even realize we’re lost.
The sheep in Jesus’ parable doesn’t find the shepherd—the shepherd finds the sheep. The coin doesn’t return itself to the woman—she searches until she recovers it. Surrendering to being searched for means accepting that our value doesn’t depend on our ability to navigate our way back to God. Our value is inherent, so precious that heaven itself mobilizes to find us.
This surrender transforms our exhaustion into rest. Instead of the frantic energy of trying to find ourselves, we can rest in the knowledge that we are being sought. Every person in this room who feels lost—whether in career, relationships, purpose, or faith—you are currently being searched for with the intensity of a shepherd who won’t rest until you’re found.
T – Trust the One Who Never Loses You
Here’s the ultimate recalculation of our spiritual GPS: you cannot be lost to the One who sees all. King David declares:
“Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast.” (Psalm 139:7-10).
You can be lost to yourself, lost to others, lost to your purpose, but you cannot be lost to Providence. The divine GPS never loses signal. Even when you feel like you’re in a spiritual dead zone, you’re still on God’s map.
The celebration in both parables isn’t just about finding what was lost—it’s about the relationship restored. The shepherd rejoices over the sheep. The woman rejoices over the coin. Heaven rejoices over you. Not the improved you, not the successful you, not the you who finally got it together—but you, exactly as you are.
Trust means believing that every recalculation is leading somewhere, even when we can’t see the destination. It means accepting that being lost isn’t a permanent condition but a temporary experience that makes being found all the sweeter.
So what do we carry forward from this passage?
Every person here whose life GPS keeps recalculating—you’re not broken. You’re human. The career path that keeps shifting, the relationship status that keeps changing, the faith that feels stronger some days and weaker others—these aren’t signs of spiritual failure. They’re invitations to a deeper trust.
The ninety-nine sheep still in the fold might feel secure, but the one who got lost and was found knows something they don’t: what it feels like to be personally sought, personally carried, personally celebrated. Your experience of being lost qualifies you for a unique understanding of grace.
The next time your life GPS announces “recalculating,” remember that you’re not lost in an indifferent universe. You’re being actively sought by a Providence who leaves the ninety-nine to find you, who lights lamps and sweeps houses to recover you, who throws a party in heaven when you’re found.
You don’t need better navigation skills. You don’t need a more accurate map. You don’t need to find yourself. You need to let yourself be found by the One who has never lost sight of you, even when you’ve lost sight of everything else.
The AI storm or any storm may have changed your landscape. Your old paths may no longer exist. But the One who searches for you knows exactly where you are and exactly how to bring you home. Being found isn’t failure—it’s the beginning of real wisdom.
Your GPS will keep recalculating. That’s the nature of navigating a world in constant change. But every recalculation is a chance to be found anew, to discover that you matter enough to be searched for, to learn that coming home isn’t about finding the right path but about being found by relentless love.
There we have it. Let’s put what we hear into action and be the doers of the Word. Until we meet again, keep your light shining brighter and broader, harvesting the fruits of profound freedom, felicity, and fulfillment.
Amen!
Bye now!
