Alex didn’t realize how lost he was.  What had started out as a weekend beach retreat for my little friend, his family and church group turned into moments of panic when he went missing.  Alex had intended on staying close to his older brother, as promised, for any excursions away from the hotel.  However, with the budding curiosity that only a five-year-old boy can embody, he had been lured by the mesmerizing sand and waves.  He began inching his way towards his tropical destination for a few moments of thrilling exploration.  But inches turned into feet and feet turned into yards.  Soon, Alex was absorbed amidst the towering expanse of condominiums and oceanfront dwellings.

When the realization of Alex’s unknown whereabouts became apparent to his family and friends back at the hotel, all activities ceased.  Instantaneously, the agenda shifted to an all-out search and rescue effort with the hope that Alex would be found unharmed.  The 200 individuals who had come to the sea for study and respite now fixed themselves on combing the landscape for some sign of the adorable blond-haired, blue-eyed boy. 

One full hour of frantic uncertainty ticked by before word came that all was well.  Alex had indeed been found safe, stationed at a lifeguard tower almost half a mile from his original starting point.  He had wandered quite a bit further than he had meant.  Later he explained, somewhat exasperated, that the journey back had been made all the more difficult due to the resemblance of his own hotel to the countless other buildings along his route.  Needless to say, all those involved in the search celebrated Alex’s return, especially his mother.  Her tight clasp as she cradled her son on her lap indicated that she would not soon let him out of her sight. 

Many lessons were learned on that weekend beach retreat, but perhaps the most memorable were those learned through the course of Alex’s unplanned expedition.  Unknowingly, he had vividly depicted the Christian story.  Like Alex, there is part of us that just can’t help wandering from the side of the One who would keep us from harm.  In this regard, we are a bit more like sheep than we’d like to admit.  We strain to look in every direction for a path that will yield irresistible delicacies, not knowing that their indulgence will make us weak at best and more certainly ill.  When we become aware of our dire condition, we may try to make our way back to the last place where we knew safety and health.  But each landmark looks a bit like the one before and we begin to grow faint, even panicked.  When we look up, we realize that we are not only far from the side of our most valiant protector, but we are also distanced from those with whom we once heartily supped.  Feelings of dread and hopelessness sink in and compound an already bereft sense of being. What is worse, the consciousness of our state captures only a fraction of the severity of the situation.  We are more lost than we realize. 

If this were the end of our story, we would be most pitied.  But there is One who has organized a contingency led by Himself to come for the wayward in the most obscure places.  He is like a relentless hound who will not abandon His pursuit until all those who are lost have been rescued.  When He finds one who has gone off course, He scoops up the lame, tenderly places him on His shoulders and carries him home.  Not wanting to celebrate alone, the Rescuer restores the wounded to his family where a cacophony of rejoicing bursts forth.  The choicest cuisine is once more prepared and all that belongs to the Father is now bequeathed to the returnee.  In the midst of the jubilee, some may protest the vast beneficence of the Father thinking that such a party is their due.  But the Father looks in at the celebration, fixes his loving gaze on the recovered, tattered lad, and replies: “We had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again.  He was lost and is found.” 

© 2007 Melissa Kurtz