14 Sep 2025, Matthew 18:12-14, Luke 15:1-24, ‘This is how God deals with us.’

Good morning, everyone. The weather is so beautiful today, isn’t it? The word spring just feels right. As everything is made new in springtime, I pray that God’s fresh blessings and peace will be with you all. Let’s turn to those around us and share a word of peace: “Peace be with you.”

Now, today I want to begin with a couple of quizzes. Here’s the first question: What were the very first words spoken by a human being in the Bible? Here’s a hint: it was Adam, when he first laid eyes on Eve. The answer is in Genesis 2:23: “This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh.” God saw that Adam was alone and said, “It is not good for man to be alone.” So God used Adam’s rib to make Eve and brought her to him. When Adam saw her, his heart must have been pounding with joy! He was so overjoyed that he gave the world’s very first, most beautiful, most pure proposal: “You are bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh.” Think about that. The very first words from humanity were words of love, gratitude, and blessing. What an incredible beginning!

Now it’s your turn. If your husband or wife is sitting next to you, have a go. Look at them carefully, with your most loving voice, and say: “You are bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh.” It’s so pure and simple, isn’t it?

Let’s move to the second quiz: What was the first recorded conversation between a human and God? Many people might guess something like, “Praise the Lord!” or “Thank you, God!” But if we look closely, the first words spoken directly to God were completely unexpected.

In Genesis 3, after Adam and Eve ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, they hid. God called out, “Adam, where are you?” Adam answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.” That was the first recorded response to God. And then God asked, “Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?” And here comes the very first excuse. Adam said, “The woman you put here with me—she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it.” Isn’t that remarkable? In just one sentence, Adam shifts the blame twice. First, “It’s her fault. The woman gave it to me.” Then he even shifts the blame to God Himself: “It’s kind of your fault. The woman you put here with me…”

It’s amazing how quickly the pure language of love can be replaced by the language of blame. This defines a fundamental aspect of the human condition. That instinct to deflect, find fault, and assure is often a sign of immaturity.

I experienced something similar just last Thursday morning. I had to drop off my daughter, Haryne, at school before rushing to a 9:30 meeting at the in Modbury Uniting Church. We got to the school around 8:40. As she was about to get out of the car, I said, “Have a nice day! I love you!” She smiled and said, “Love you too.”

But not even a second later, we both went into panic mode.

“Dad, where’s my bag?”“In the back seat.”“No, it’s not! Dad… why didn’t you get it?!”

We had left it at home.

I said, “It’s your bag; you were meant to grab it.”She said, “But you told me to get in the car first!”I said, “It’s still your bag; you should’ve taken it.”She replied, “But you told me to wait in the car first!”

You can imagine how that went. Of course, I was late for my meeting. She thought I had picked it up; I thought she had.

Whose fault was it? In truth, the whole conversation was a quick slide from “Haryne, you are bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh” to “This is your fault!”

That’s human nature. Just like Adam, we so easily shift blame and defend ourselves.

But here’s the amazing thing: God is nothing like that. God looks at us and says, “It’s on me. I take responsibility for this situation. And I will see this through to the end.”

This is how God loves us. Yes, it’s ownership of this situation.

I have to admit, I felt a lot of pressure preparing this sermon. You know why? Because this is such a famous passage. I’m sure some of you thought, “Luke chapter 15, the lost sheep, the lost coin, the lost son. Oh yeah, I know that one.”

And I worried I might lose you. So I wrestled with it. I imagined myself as the sheep, as the coin, as the prodigal son. And then I tried standing on the other side…like the shepherd, the woman searching for her coin, the father waiting for his son. I tried so hard not to lose you and your attention.

But here’s the good news: God showed us something we hadn’t noticed before. A message hidden in plain sight. And it’s this:  God does not put the blame on us.

Now you might be wondering, “What do you mean by that?”

Let me explain. In Luke 15, Jesus tells the parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son. But did you know, the parable of the lost sheep also appears in Matthew 18? And here’s something that seems small but is actually very big: the words they use are different.

Matthew says the sheep “wanders off.” Luke says the sheep is “lost.” Sounds like a small difference, right? Pretty similar. But the meaning is very different.

You probably know English much better than I do, so maybe you’ve already noticed. I was curious, so I went back to the original Greek.

Take a look at the screen.

In Matthew, the word is πλανάω (planaō)—“to wander, to go astray.” The sheep is at fault; it strayed, it was led astray. The emphasis is on the sheep's own fault for wandering.

In Luke, the word is ἀπόλλυμι (apollymi)—“to be lost, to perish, to be ruined.” The focus is not on what the sheep did, but on the anguish of the one who lost it. The sheep didn’t run away; the shepherd lost it. It’s about a state of being lost, not a choice.

Do you see the difference? Matthew says, “You wandered off, but I’ll still come find you.” That’s beautiful. But Luke goes a step further: “I won’t blame you.. I didn’t watch carefully,  I lost you, so I will search until I find you. I take responsibility” That completely changes the dynamic…. That is a deeper, more profound love. A love that goes far beyond our understanding.

Matthew emphasizes the sheep’s responsibility. Luke emphasizes the shepherd’s heart. For God, the reason the sheep is lost doesn’t matter.

The shepherd says, “I must not have kept a close enough watch—I lost it.”The woman says, “I didn’t take care of my coin—I lost it.” (The coin didn’t walk away on its own!) And the father… maybe he thought, “Perhaps I failed to guide my son well, perhaps I didn’t teach him right way, perhaps that’s why he left.” And so he waits, day after day, for his son to come home. This is how God deals with us.

The powerful evidence for this isn’t just in the word “lost.” It’s in what happens after. The stories always end in joy.  The shepherd finds the sheep and joyfully puts it on his shoulders. He shouts for joy. The woman calls her neighbours together to celebrate. She is so joyful that she spends even more than the value of the coin. The father throws a huge party and says, “My son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” His immediate reaction was not “okay, let us talk about what you’ve done!” Just pure joy! They all end with joy.

The point of these parables is not really about the “lost” itself. The true hero is God. We often see ourselves only as the lost sheep or the prodigal son, and of course, that matters. But if we stop there, we miss the deeper truth. Luke shows us that God is the main character of the story.

Even though the fault is clearly ours, God treats it as His own burden and keeps looking for us. That is His love. This is the true meaning of Jesus’ parables about the “lost” in Luke—not simply our return, but God’s caring heart, His patient search, and His great joy.

Dear friends, we talk about the love of God so often. In fact, everything in the Bible comes down to His love. He created the world out of love. The cross itself was an act of responsible love. And God is love. The love that Matthew speaks of is beautiful: “Even though you messed up, I will find you.” That is God’s love, and we desperately need it. But Luke goes one step further: “I won’t point a finger and say, ‘It’s your fault.’ Instead, I say, ‘I lost you. I take responsibility. I will not give up on you.’”

Jesus pressed this point home by telling not one, but three parables. This is the profound love of God that Luke wants us to see.

And that love is described so powerfully by one of my favourite preachers, Tim Keller. In his book The Prodigal God, Keller writes of the father’s heart: “When the son comes home, the father does not assign blame. He absorbs the son’s lostness as his own pain, and the son’s sin as his own agony.”

That love is not a cheap love. And that’s why we are here today. The reason we…who have run away like the prodigal son and wandered far like a lost sheep are able to come home to the Father’s house and rest in the Shepherd’s shoulders is because of that love. He cries out, “I found my sheep! I found my coin! I found my son who was lost, who was dead!” The joy over even one lost person is greater than all the rest.

I want to encourage you to let that love fill your heart this week. God’s love is more than we can imagine. And when we lose our way, His love comes searching with a heart full of pain. When we don’t know what to do, His love does not hesitate to find us. May that love grow deeper in you.

And so today, I don’t want to send you away with a command to “go and do something.” Instead, for this week, I want you simply to be still and look. Look at your own life, look at your neighbours, and look at this messy, chaotic world—and then ask:“Where is God’s searching love being revealed right now?”

My hope is that you will be filled with the very heart of God that Jesus revealed—the heart for the lost sheep, the lost coin, the lost son… the heart that bursts with joy when they are found.

And even if you are in a season when you cannot feel that love, take comfort: God is still searching for you with a longing and patient heart.

This is how God loves us. This is how God deals with us. Amen.