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“Home Again”

September 14, 2025

Luke 15:1-10

Rev. Rebecca DePoe

Luke 15:1–10 (NRSV)

The Parable of the Lost Sheep 1 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.

The Parable of the Lost Coin 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.”

This is the word of the Lord, thanks be to God.  

Think about what it feels like to lose your phone.

Maybe it’s slipped between the couch cushions, or maybe you left it at the grocery store checkout. Panic sets in immediately. You retrace your steps, scrolling through your memory of the last place you had it. You hit the “ping” button on your smartwatch, hoping you’ll hear that little sound alerting you to the location of your lost phone. You dig through your bag three times, even though you already know it’s not there. And the longer it’s missing, the more your brain starts racing: What if someone stole it? What about my photos, my texts, my calendar? My whole life is in there?!

And then you find it. Waiting patiently for you where you left it on the kitchen counter. The relief is almost physical. Maybe you laugh at yourself. Maybe you sign in relief. Maybe you hold it in your hand a little tighter for awhile.

Because something important that was lost is now found.

And if that’s how we feel about a phone, how much more does God feel that way about us?

You know that relief when the lost thing is found again? That little rush of joy? That’s the energy of our parable today. But it’s also the energy of the church right now.

Because as disorienting as these days may feel- when the pews aren’t as full, when the budget feels tight- I believe that God is up to something. I believe God is doing a new thing in our midst.

The truth is, the old ways of measuring success don’t work anymore. But that doesn’t mean God is absent. It means God is busy searching, calling, and leading us into something new.

I’ll be honest: when I first started in ministry, I thought the “butts and bucks” model was the only story we had. I thought if attendance dropped, I must have preached badly. If giving dipped, maybe I hadn’t worked hard enough. And I know many of you have though the same thing: if the church isn’t full, does that mean we’ve failed?!

But over time, I’ve learned a different truth. God’s Spirit is not bound to our old scorecards. God is not wringing hands over numbers the way we do. Instead, God is up to holy mischief- nudging us out of comfort zones, shaking us free of habits that no longer serve us, and inviting us into something we can’t quite see yet.

I’ve seen glimpses of it lately. Not in flashy numbers or full sanctuaries, but in smaller, quieter ways.

I think of the Methodist congregation that agreed to be the host sight for the West Hills Meals on Wheels program. It started with a few dedicated volunteers and now provides meals for seniors in the Coraopolis, Moon Township, Crescent Township, and Neville Island neighborhoods.

I think of the old Anglican church up the road who sold their building to a community theater group. This past Thursday the theater produced its first show- giving a new generation of artists a sense of purpose, belonging, and community.

I think of the courage of our own people, who- despite fears about budgets, aging buildings, and the unknown future-still keep showing up.  Still keep singing hymns, pouring coffee, visiting shut-ins. Still keep believing that God has something for us.

That looks to me like God’s holy mischief.

The parable of the lost sheep is, in many ways, a picture of the church today.

Our culture has shifted faster in one generation than it did in the hundred years before. My life looks nothing like my grandmother’s. By the time she was thirty-six, she had been married, divorced, married again, and had four children ranging in age from 17 to 8. Meanwhile I am pastoring a church, working on my second master’s degree, and trying to figure out how to keep my cat alive. It’s no wonder that the church is still trying to catch up to what all this change means.

But the same God who sought out the church 2,000 years ago is the same God seeking and finding the church today. The parable isn’t so much about calling the church to repent-it’s an invitation to let God take us by the hand and lead us into a new adventure.

We are lost. But God will not stop until we are found.

One of the biggest challenges in ministry today is not scarcity of people or resources. It’s scarcity of joy.

Fear has taken up residence in too many churches. Fear that there aren’t enough volunteers to run a Turkey Dinner this year. Fear that we are one boiler catastrophe away from not being able to pay our bills. Fear that everything we’ve loved about our church is slipping away.

And when fear is in the driver’s seat, joy takes a backseat.

But in today’s parable, Jesus gives us a different picture: the antidote to fear is joy.

Joy that one sheep is carried home, even when ninety-nine are already safe..

Joy that one coin is found, even if nine others were never missing.

Joy that one life is turned toward God again, even if no one else notices.

God is asking us to make a big deal out of every single person who allows themselves to be led home.

Here at Coraopolis, we’ve seen that joy, too.

When someone new walks through the doors for worship and is welcomed by name.

When a child lights up when they receive a Gospel Gram.

When an elder agrees to serve again, even though they weren’t sure they had the time or energy.

We rejoice because God is still calling people to serve in unexpected ways. We rejoice because God’s call confirms our belief that God loves us and never lets us go. We rejoice because, time and again, God meets our scarcity with abundance.

That’s what life in God’s household looks like.

By this point in Luke’s gospel, Jesus already has a reputation: he eats with tax collectors and sinners. “Tax collectors and sinners” is code for the people nobody else wanted to sit with. Their presence was a threat to your good reputation.

But Jesus says: God is like the shepherd who won’t rest until the missing sheep is home. God is like the woman who sweeps the whole house until the coin is found. Every single one matters. Every single one is treasured.

And when the lost are found, heaven itself throws a party. Imagine the laughter, the music, the dancing- because that’s what joy looks like in the kingdom of God.

Friends, I don’t know what the church of tomorrow will look like. Some days, it’s tempting to despair when I see fewer people in worship, or more arguments about trivial things.

But this I do know: whatever the church looks like in the years to come, it will need people willing to be led by God into the unknown. People who admit they don’t have it all figured out, but who keep showing up anyway. People who can respect each other, assume the best in each other, and look out at the world every day and say: Nothing is impossible with God.

And this morning, we have the best reminder of all. Because when we gather at this table, we are living out this parable.

Here, God seeks us, finds us, and carries us home again.

Here, we remember that Christ did not give up on us, but went all the way to the cross to bring us back.

Here, our lostness is met with God’s feast of grace.

Picture it: bread broken and shared. Cup poured and passed. Ordinary elements made extraordinary by God’s presence. This is not just a ritual- it’s a celebration.

And like the shepherd who called his neighbors, like the woman who summoned her friends, Christ calls us together around bread and cup to rejoice.

At this table, heaven and earth join in the celebration. At this table, we taste joy, we taste hope, we taste grace.

And here is the good news:

Rejoice with me, for what was lost has been found.

Thanks be to God,

Amen.