Lost

In my family, I was always the responsible one. I rarely left things, misplaced things, or lost things. And on the off chance that I did, it was rarely something very important. However, since moving away from home, I have discovered that I am much more apt to lose things than I ever was before.

Lately I've been losing all kinds of things. Important things. When this happens, I am in complete turmoil. Gnawing anxiety takes over and I feel myself shrinking in fear of the consequences of the lost item. But in this new season of losing things, I have also discovered something very interesting about myself:

I often do not look for the lost item because I am afraid I won't find it.

One time when I lost my ID badge, I was pacing around asking myself about its whereabouts, all the while refusing to scour my bedroom for it. I knew I should look for it. But I was overwhelmed with fear of what would happen if I did and it wasn't there.

It sounds absolutely ridiculous as I type it out now. It sounds pathetic and silly and foolish.

But I am discovering this personality flaw in myself... and it doesn't just have to do with lost things. Fear of failure continually paralyzes me from doing the next thing. I'm afraid that my efforts won't be enough. That even if I do my absolute best, it won't be good enough. That I will fail anyway. Perhaps it's easier to give 99%, and attribute failure to the 1% I didn't put forth.

It's true for missing things, and it's true in my relationship with the Lord.

In a dry spell, when my desire for His presence is lacking, I avoid doing the one thing I know will get me back on track. I avoid Him. I avoid Him for fear that if I do give Him my time, perhaps He won't show me new things, He won't encourage and strengthen me, and He won't speak to me. And the terror of His silence keeps me at bay.

This week I read Luke 15. All about lost things. And all about what (normal) people do when they lose something. They go out and look for it. The shepherd looks for the lost sheep. The woman searches for the lost coin. The Father watches for His prodigal son.

So often I am that sheep, that coin, that son... wandering away. But I am so thankful that the Father is not me. That the Father goes out and looks. He searches. He leaves the ninety-nine to find the one. He cleans the dust and filth to find the one. He celebrates with joy when He finds the one.

I know He will not let me stay lost, He will search for me and find me.

But I also know that sitting in my puddle of anxiety about lost things is foolish.
After an entire weekend of agonizing over where my ID badge was, I finally stood up, marched to my bedroom, moved a pile of clothes, and found it there on the floor, all along. How much anxiety and fear I could have avoided if I had simply done the next thing. If I had simply looked for it. It reminds me of the words to an old hymn I used to plunk out on the piano, "What a Friend We Have in Jesus:"

Oh what peace we often forfeit, oh what needless pain we bear. All because we do not carry, everything to God in prayer.

Though the Lord will pursue me and search for me, He also says, "You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart" (Jer. 29:13).

It's time to quit worrying, quit fretting, and quit being afraid. It's time to lay aside my pride and my fear and come to Him. It's time to put in 100%, knowing that my God is able to do immeasurably more than I can ask or imagine.

I am never enough. But He is everything.