We live in an evil age. One generation always seems to think it has a monopoly on dissipation and ugly behavior. Perhaps ours is no worse than that of the early church, or that of Gomorrah’s era.
As many of us flounder in our own misbehavior, our affluence drives from our minds the thought of being lost or in need of rescue. “Lost? Who, me? Certainly not. I am educated and accomplished and successful. Others may be lost, but not me. I am a good citizen.”
One doesn’t need to feel lost in order to be lost. Someone can be lost and oblivious to it. Ask any man who is driving his car during vacation if he is lost. He will deny it with every fiber of his being. No, he planned on going that 300 miles out of his way so he could test the odometer on the new car. He was lost. His wife knew it. The kids knew it. The dog knew it. His wife also knew better than to try and persuade him of his condition.
Jesus came to rescue what was lost. That includes every one of us.
Since that infamous ejection from paradise, humans have been in need of a Savior. Ruined by insubordination toward God, in his mercy we were provided a means of escape. In spite of the denial by many, and the indifference by others, we are lost in our own undoing and hopeless without the sacrifice made by the Christ at Calvary. This is the gospel. This is good news. Embrace it. Cherish it.
We were in the Danner’s Dime Store on Indiana Avenue. I was three. Mother was thirty. I was lost. She knew it. I didn’t. She found me. Lost and found was I. Thank you, Jesus.
“For if, when we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!” (Romans 5:10)