A small business owner has worked tirelessly for his family and most of his life. He is moderately profitable, he is prudent with his finances, and on top of that, he is a great employer and an even better manager. Having put in extra time to grow his enterprise at a healthy rate, he now has several storefronts throughout town that have quickly become a beloved part of the city’s culture. Despite the success of his small chain, he has one location that consistently underperforms. This location is on the edge of a dying part of town, regularly receives complaints about the staff, bounces between being in the red and turning an unjustifiably meager profit, and fails to measure up in quality of output to the rest of the chain. One could easily say it is damaging the goodwill of everything that the entrepreneur has worked so hard to build. Knowing this makes it understandable for him to close the failing location without hesitation. What good business is there in supporting something that hurts the rest of all you’ve worked for? Why keep a seemingly unsalvageable, failing part of the business? Why pour in even more extra work with little promise of return? It is frankly bad business.
So why do we see the shepherd in the Gospel today make a similar reckless and bad decision? If you’re like me, you’d think it is foolish to endanger such a large part of your livelihood for something so trivial. What are we missing? How can God, as the good shepherd, be so foolish?
In a sense, God is foolish—at least by human standards. He is ready and willing to put aside and give up absolutely everything for the sake of his beloved, with zero expectation of a return on investment. His love is so sacrificial that he would make the bad business decision to “keep the failing shop” or “go in search of the stray,” not because that “failing shop” and that “stray” are intrinsically worth saving, but because His love for them gives them value. My friends, we are not a good business decision for God; it was a scandalizing decision for him to give Himself up on the cross for us. And yet, this love is exactly what we are called to emulate.
In His seeking out those who are lost, God communicates both (1) where our value truly comes from—that is, His desire to salvage us and seek us out, His desire for us; and (2) the nature of love that we are called to—that is, a foolish and reckless love willing to give up of our own livelihood and being for another. This twofold lesson will benefit us as we prepare for Christmas:
How have I defined myself? By my successes? By my accomplishments? By my relationships? How might my life change if I see my sole value in God’s love for me? On Christmas day, God entered into this world to seek us out. What does it mean for Him to seek me out?
Christ became human on Christmas so that we can become like Him. Do I love as God does? Do I love without thought to myself, foolishly and recklessly? What can I abandon for love of Him and love of my neighbor?