LECTIO
Jesus is not teaching about statistics today.
He is revealing God’s heart — the God who searches,
lingers, waits, notices,
and refuses to give up on the lost one.
MEDITATIO
The word that rests in me today is found.
As I walked the property this morning, I noticed the crepe myrtle leaves turning red —
brilliant flame against the quiet browns of late autumn.
Their color didn’t shout — it called.
A kind of gentle ember-glow whispering:
“Even what fades is not forgotten.”
I thought of Jesus carrying the lost sheep on His shoulders —
not scolding, not shaming, but rejoicing.
I thought of the woman lighting the lamp,
sweeping every corner,
refusing to stop searching.
And I remembered:
I have been the lost one too.
More times than I admit.
More times than I even noticed I was straying.
“Though he was rich, he became poor for your sake,
so that by his poverty you might become rich.”
— Dilexi te §18; cf. 2 Cor 8:9
God comes to find me by becoming small,
entering my need,
meeting me in my wandering.
ORATIO
“The entire material universe speaks of God’s love—
a caress from the Father.”
— Laudato Si’ §84
Lord Jesus,
find me again today.
Search the corners of my heart I avoid.
Light the lamp.
Sweep.
Call my name.
And when I am found,
let me rejoice —
not in my goodness,
but in Your mercy.
Make me a person who notices the one who is missing —
the quiet soul on the margins,
the weary one on the edge,
the one who expects no welcome.
Teach me to carry, not condemn.
To seek, not count.
To rejoice, not measure.
CONTEMPLATIO
The crepe myrtle leaves glow in their autumn red.
They do not cling to the tree forever —
but they are beautiful in being given back.
So too my life —
found, held, and eventually returned to God
with joy.
I rest now in the One who searches,
who finds,
who carries,
who rejoices.
I rest in being found.
