The sweet refrains of Amazing Grace, the grand old hymn written by John Newton in 1779, have become so well-loved that we rarely stop to think about the lyrics.
John Newton worked in the slave trade, buying and selling human beings at a time in history when such practices were common and accepted. He even captained slave trading ships for several years, delivering hundreds of miserable iron-clad prisoners from their homes to their destined lives of bondage.
It was during one of these perilous voyages that Newton experienced a spiritual awakening. In a ferocious storm, faced with the imminent threat of death, he began to question the morality of his actions and pondered the consequences of his involvement in slave trading. This marked the beginning of his journey toward faith and redemption.
Eventually, John Newton abandoned the slave trade and underwent a dramatic personal and spiritual transformation. He denounced his former way of life and became a prominent abolitionist, vehemently advocating for the abolition of the slave trade.
Considering Newton’s past in the troubling world of human trafficking, it makes sense that when he penned the hymn “Amazing Grace,” he saw himself as a bit of a wretch. That’s likely how he genuinely felt. When he talked about feeling lost, he was sharing his own journey. It was a personal lightbulb moment — owning up to his mistakes. And that’s what makes it okay.
It’s fine to say you’re feeling lost about your own path. But labeling others as lost? Well, that’s a different story.
Strategic Planning for Saving the Lost
When I was neck-deep in evangelical church culture, I would participate, along with other church leaders, in semi-regular strategic planning meetings on how to save “The Lost.”
Yes, we would refer to them as “The Lost.”
In the evangelical church world, “The Lost” referred to anyone who was destined for Hell, which meant anyone who had not accepted the Lord as their personal savior by praying a prayer of repentance and salvation — basically, anyone different from us.
These meetings would often involve a whiteboard and a free-wheeling brainstorming session on how to make the rest of the world believe the same things we did.
Door knocking?
Street preaching?
Dropping pamphlets in letterboxes?
Some kind of whizz-bang community outreach program?
In these meetings, the urgency was palpable. There was a genuine belief that we held the keys to eternal salvation, and it was our duty to unlock the gates of Heaven for “The Lost.” If we didn’t save them, we were responsible and even be held accountable by God.
The Problem of “The Lost”
Labeling people as “The Lost” made it easier to organize our mission. It organized “The Lost” into a homogenous group, creating a clear distinction between us and them and simplifying a complex world into two distinct categories.
If Newton’s “lostness” was a personal recognition of past mistakes, the church took that concept and institutionalized it, transforming personal “lostness” into a collective label it applied ad nauseam to everyone outside of the church.
For the church, reducing personal belief to a binary classification was helpful. To the rest of the world, it is insulting. Only now that I am outside the church system can I see just how condescending it is to call someone else “Lost.”
For it implies that the “found” person has the answers, and the “lost” person is in need of them. It is to say: “I have the truth. You don’t have the truth. You need what I have. You are walking around in the dark. I am enlightened. You need to learn from me. You have nothing of value to say to me, but what I have to say to you is of infinite value.”
A person doesn’t take directions from someone who is blind. In the same way, to believe that another is lost and blind is to believe that whatever they might share with you is not something you can learn from but merely an opportunity for you to fix them, correct them, and help them know what you know.
There is an arrogance about it.
Besides this, while the church might believe that its core business is the process of reaching and converting those it considers “lost,” I’m not even sure that you could mount a robust Biblical justification for such behavior.
In fact, let’s take a look at the Bible now…
Lostness in the Bible
The word “lost” only appears in the New Testament about 20 times. Half of those occurrences come from one chapter of the Gospel of Luke, where Jesus tells three stories about three lost things.
So, let’s zero in on the passage in Luke 15.
Here, there are three parables that revolve around the theme of loss and the subsequent joy that accompanies the act of recovery.
The first parable, the Lost Sheep, depicts a shepherd with a flock of 100 sheep. When one goes missing, the shepherd leaves the 99 to search for the lost one. Upon finding it, he invites others to share in the rejoicing.
The second parable, the Lost Coin, introduces a woman who loses one of her ten silver coins. Diligently searching for it, she rejoices upon finding it and calls others to partake in the celebration.
The third parable, often known as the Prodigal Son, centers around a father and his two sons. The younger son, feeling the itch for independence, asks for his share of the inheritance and heads off into the world. There, he squanders everything in wild living, finding himself destitute and desperate.
As he hits rock bottom, a pivotal moment occurs. The son comes to his senses and decides to return home, not as a son expecting favor, but as a servant, recognizing the gravity of his mistakes. However, the father, who had been eagerly watching for his return, sees him from a distance and runs to embrace him. Instead of scolding or rejecting him, the father orders a lavish feast to celebrate his lost son’s return.
The older brother, who has been dutifully working in the fields, struggles with resentment upon learning of the festivities. But the father, overflowing with compassion, explains that it’s only right to celebrate the return of the lost son, for he was lost and is now found.
What We Learn About Lostness
The three stories are similar in some ways and different in other ways, but taken together, they paint a complete picture of what lostness is and is not. What is more, it explains how we ought to approach those who are in a season of lostness and how they ought to be treated.
The immense value of the “one”
First, these parables highlight the immense value of the ‘one.’ One sheep among many, one coin among many, one son among (presumably) a whole family. Each entity represents a singular soul of immeasurable worth in the eyes of God.
The celebration that occurs when the lost “something” is found underscores the profound joy and significance attached to the recovery of an individual.
The personal nature of lostness
While the church went and applied the term “lost” to large swathes of the population, the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the prodigal son embody singular narratives, showcasing the diversity of individual circumstances, struggles, and realizations that define personal journeys toward or away from God.
The lost sheep might have wandered off due to curiosity, distraction, or a host of personal reasons. The lost coin could symbolize internal struggles, emotional turmoil, or a feeling of spiritual disconnection unique to each person. The prodigal son’s story unfolds as a complex interplay of personal choices, circumstances, the desire for independence, and the power of self-realization.
In essence, these parables, by highlighting the personal nature of lostness, call us to step away from oversimplified labels. They invite us to adopt a more compassionate and tailored approach, recognizing that each person’s journey toward or away from God is as unique as they are.
Let the Lost Label Themselves
These parables teach us that recognizing our own lostness is a personal journey. Take the prodigal son, for instance. The moment he “came to his senses” wasn’t forced upon him; it was a realization he owned.
Those of us who have worked with broken people know for a fact that it is nearly impossible to help a person who does not want to be helped. Arriving at the place of recognizing one’s need for help is rarely expedited by the evangelistic efforts of another trying to convince them that they need help. True transformation often begins when individuals, like the prodigal son, have their own revelation.
Not a Test of Belief
In the evangelical church, whether or not one was “lost” or “found” was based entirely on what one believed. If you believed in Jesus in the Evangelical way, you were “found.” If you did not believe in Jesus in the Evangelical Way, you were “lost.”
I see no such test of belief in the parables that Jesus tells.
Whether or not a person was “found” was dependent entirely on the seeker. The father did not ask the prodigal what he believed. In fact, he didn’t even make the son grovel and beg for forgiveness. He actually stopped him from doing this. And, in each of the parables, no one else died to pay the price to make the “lost” person “found.”
Make of that what you will.
“Found,” it seems, is a spiritual proximity to God based solely on the goodness of God, not adherence to doctrines, beliefs, or statements of faith.
Our response to the “lost”
What we glean from these parables is a nuanced understanding of the nature of lostness and the responses it elicits. In the case of the lost sheep, it recognizes its predicament but lacks the knowledge or means to find its way back. Here, the shepherd takes the initiative, symbolizing God’s active pursuit of those who may feel disoriented or lost, even when they might not fully comprehend the way back.
Conversely, the lost coin, devoid of consciousness, remains unaware of its own lost status. Yet, the woman diligently searches for it. This underscores a different facet of lostness — one where the seeker takes on the responsibility of finding what is lost, regardless of its awareness. It reflects God’s thorough and relentless search for those who may be oblivious to their own need for redemption.
The Prodigal Son’s narrative adds yet another layer. Here, the son recognizes his lost state and, crucially, knows the way home. In a departure from the other parables, the father doesn’t actively pursue him. Instead, the father patiently waits, keeping the door open for the son’s eventual return. This highlights the distinctive aspect of human agency in the process of finding one’s way back, where the individual, having realized their lostness, plays an active role in the journey of redemption.
Just as John Newton did.
In essence, these parables offer a profound lesson on the diverse experiences of lostness and the responses they demand. Whether it’s the lost sheep, the lost coin, or the prodigal son, each story emphasizes God’s unwavering commitment, illustrating that in our various states of realization, God is there — seeking, waiting, and ready to celebrate the moment of return.
But note that God is the seeker in each scenario.
The Last Word
So, let me decide for myself if I am a wretch.
I don’t need to be told by an eager evangelist.
I have the answer already, just as John Newton did.
His personal transformation from a slave trader to an abolitionist strikes a chord with me. Yet, in the corridors of organized religion, the conceited habit of labeling others as “The Lost” persists. It’s time for a radical change.
No more cookie-cutter salvation tactics; these parables tell a story of a relentless seeker, the joy over a singular soul, and the distinct paths toward or away from God. Recognizing lostness isn’t imposed; it’s an individual’s self-discovery through the work of the Spirit of God — a personal “aha” moment.
There’s no litmus test for beliefs in these parables, just the seeker’s fervor and the goodness of God. In fact, Jesus’s full stop at the end of Luke 15 is this: “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”
That’s his job.
My job, on the other hand, is not to hold strategic planning meetings on how to forcibly bring home “prodigals” who already know the way. It is to keep my doors and arms wide open and be ready to throw a big party when they come of their own accord.
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This post was previously published on Backyard Church.
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