When I think of our mission and vision, it is really easy for me to get excited. Often, we think about the person who is surprised by the story of Jesus coming to Earth as a baby. We delight in letting them know, for the first time, that someone is pursuing them, someone who is real. That Christmas is more than just a tree and presents. Introducing Christ can be such a thrill!

For many of us, it is almost easier to think about introducing Jesus for the first time. It is easy to invite a stranger at the coffee shop to an outreach. Or my favorite waitress to a longer faith conversation at my dining room table. Our hearts might get tight and our mouths get dry when it is a sister who won’t come to the party “if you bring up Jesus again”. The son who comes late to dinner because he doesn’t want to hear you praying over the meal. Your heart may feel tender and anxious, even afraid or angry making that invitation. I get it.

The holidays have a way of amplifying all of that. We are encouraged to walk bravely across the room to the stranger yet feel immediately conflicted about inviting a wandering loved one. Do I just pray quietly if they come? Do I invite them to church? Will I push them farther away? What do I do?

We are called to the work of reconciliation, as a ministry and as followers of Jesus (2 Corinthians 5:18). It is a privilege to make places of gathering with seats at the table. However, when it’s someone we love and we fear losing them, it can be hard making a courageous invitation. We are afraid they will say no, or this might be the last holiday we see them.

We want those we love to be reconciled to God. We want them to be reconciled to us too. We want them at the table.

When Jesus is asked about the tables he chose to sit at, Luke 15 tell us he responds with stories of finding three lost things: a sheep, a coin, and a son. Who hasn’t lost something and turned the house, the car, their life upside down to find it? Jesus wastes no words naming the desperation, the urgency, the sacrifice of looking.

The man losing the sheep goes into the wilderness to search. Finding the sheep, he joyfully carries it home on his shoulders, saying, “Rejoice with me because I have found my lost sheep” (Luke 15:6). The woman who has lost her coin lights a lamp, sweeps her home, carefully searches for it. Finding it, she calls her friends and neighbors over to say, “Rejoice with me, I have found my lost coin! (verse 9)”. We are reminded that there is joy when one lost one “is found.” There is work to being reconciled with something that is lost, but also great joy.

Then there is the lost son. Disrespectful right from the beginning. Foolishly wasteful. It is a gripping account of an unruly and wild child who becomes poor and hungry enough to eat pig food. He becomes desperate and makes his way home.

What do we know about the dad? He sees his son far off and begins to run. He’s not waiting to hear why he came, how long he will stay, or if he’s sorry. He’s been watching. With a heart bursting with “love and compassion”, he runs to him and hugs him (Luke 15:20).

Searching, finding, rejoicing. All three stories were never about the thing that was lost. They were about the courageous love of those that were searching. They kept looking. It is why Jesus sat with “notorious sinners”. It is why he found us.

It is hard to know where to start as we think of our “lost” ones. However, we can lead with love. If there is anything the Christmas story tells us, it is the incredible sacrifice God made to come find us. It is how He “so loved the world” (John 3:16). He was motivated by love. I want that for my “lost” ones too.

The mission of reconciliation is tough. It can feel hopeless and hard. This Advent season, if you are waiting for a wanderer, ask yourself what leading with love might look like for you.

Know we are praying with you and cheering each other on, in the hopes that one day we all can say, “Rejoice with me! The one that was lost is found!”