Estimated reading time: 5 minutes:-)
“Now the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear him. And the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, ‘This man receives sinners and eats with them.’
So he told them this parable: ‘What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing.'” ~ Luke 15:1-5.
There are days, even as a child of God, that I feel very lost. But I’m thankful that when I am lost, I at least have a North Star to follow.
This summer, I stumbled across a beautiful song that put this topic of lostness in my heart. You may have heard, but on America’s Got Talent, a young woman battling cancer auditioned on one episode. She said her name was Nightbirde because she wanted to be like the birds, singing before the sunrise, singing even though they don’t see the light yet. They say she has a 2% chance of survival. And she came with a message that I think rings true in the hearts of every human being.
“We’re all a little lost, and that’s alright.”
I don’t watch AGT, so I stumbled upon this song in a bible study with my old theology teacher. But as we listened and talked about it, we realized:
People these days don’t understand sinfulness. You can’t go up to someone and say, “have you ever felt like a worthless piece of crap because you’re so sinful?” That’s just weird. And until someone understands what sin is, they’ll think you’re just accusing them of being awful.
But people understand lostness. They know what it’s like to have no direction, no compass, no North Star. They know what it’s like to live in a fallen world.
So I’ve learned lostness is universal. But I’ve also learned it doesn’t necessarily end when you become a Christian. It just changes.
Before I knew Christ, I felt like a piece of driftwood, thrown into a frothing sea, a starless sky above me. They was nothing to cling to. Nothing to grasp.
But now that I know Christ, I didn’t suddenly find shore out of nowhere. My struggles didn’t just end right then and there. I’m still that piece of warped driftwood, tossing at sea, except now the sky has stars in it. And now, the sun is rising on the horizon. And now, I’m fastened to an anchor that reminds me: He won’t let go no matter how much the ocean rages.
Being in that sea is still uncomfortable though. We all long for shore. We all long for heaven. But until then, sometimes we still feel a little lost. And that’s alright.
Recently, I’ve had a lot on my mind. A lot of things I can’t really share yet, a lot of things are too big to share on one blog! But to keep it brief, I just haven’t had a ton of clear direction for my future and that’s terrifying.
I’m lost. Lost for words to say sometimes, lost to make a decision. The path beneath my feet is winding into the thicket, and the brush makes it hard to pick out.
I don’t know what God is doing in my life. I know whatever He’s planning is good, but sometimes it’s hard when you simply have no idea. When the timing of things doesn’t make sense. When things are falling apart that you built up, or things are rising that you leveled a long time ago.
The landscape is changing, all for God’s glory. But it’s still terrifying.
I just wanted to encourage you this morning, though. If you feel lost, it’s okay. If you feel unworthy to be in God’s presence, I’m right there with you. If you feel incomplete, confused, questioning, and unfinished, that’s human. If you’re utterly sick of yourself sometimes, praise God that He isn’t.
Luke 19:10 says, “the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” We’re all lost without Christ. Whether our endeavors are planned and profound or unplanned and messy, if they aren’t anchored in Christ, then they amount to nothing. But anchored in Christ, even the humblest of endeavors can further God’s kingdom and bring Him glory.
Breathe. In that dark sea, He is there. He is there.
And one more thing. As I struggle with all the unknowns in my life right now, I found myself slipping into a mental state of just bracing for the next thing. Gripping onto that anchor and squinting my eyes shut as the waves pound me. But there is room for joy even in the dark. There is room for joy even when you have no idea what the heck is going on.
It’s okay to be excited about the next thing, even if you don’t know what the next thing is. Or if you’re a little scared for the next thing. Let joy paint the path ahead.
Psalm 16:11 says, “You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your righthand are pleasures forevermore.”
Psalm 30:5 says, “Weeping may tary for the night, but joy comes with the morning.”
And that anchor?
Romans 8:38-39 says, “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
That is our anchor.
Sometimes things don’t make sense. God’s plan doesn’t make sense, His love for us doesn’t make sense. God doesn’t make sense.
But if God made sense, would He truly be God?
When we know Christ, even our most lost moments have direction and foundation. So listen to this beautiful song and remember: We’re all a little lost, and it’s alright.
The level I relate to verse 2 is astronomical it’s not even fair. What the heck.
Also, here’s a blog by Songbirde. She’s an amazing writer, give it a read here.