Sermon – Whose Fault is it?
Sermon Preached by Reverend Tracey Gracey on Sunday, 14 September, 2025
Luke 15:1-10
Have you ever wondered whose fault it was that the sheep and the coin were lost?
Was it the sheep’s fault? Or was it the shepherd’s?
Was it the coin’s fault? Or was it the woman’s?
Most of us would assume that the fault lies with the shepherd and the woman.
Something was placed in their care, they had responsibility for it, they became careless and lost them.
But they did redeem themselves; they realised how important these items were and were willing to search high and low to find what they had lost.
These items weren’t just possessions—they defined who these people were.
The sheep shaped the shepherd’s identity; it was his livelihood, his purpose.
The coin shaped the woman’s identity; for many theologians say this coin was part of her dowry, which defined her future and who she would become.
The traditional way of reading the parable of the lost sheep is to imagine God as the shepherd and us as the sheep. We matter so much to God that God will look everywhere, high and low, until we are found and returned safely home.
And when we are found, God does not judge, punish, or condemn. Instead, God rejoices and celebrates our return into the heart of God’s community.
If we imagine God as the shepherd searching for the lost sheep, then we can also see God in the second parable as the woman searching for her lost coin. Here, God is doing exactly what the shepherd does—relentlessly seeking what is precious.
Feminist theologians note that this is the only parable in the Gospels where God is portrayed in distinctly feminine terms.
By connecting these two stories, the parables invite us to experience God as whole and complete—both masculine and feminine—reminding us that God’s love and care are not limited to a single image or form.
The shepherd and the woman have something else in common: in their society, both would have been seen as unimportant or of low status. Yet in these parables, they are given a central role.
They show us that every person matters in God’s community.
When everyone—no matter their status—is welcomed, included, and cared for, God’s community is complete, and there is genuine cause for celebration.
That is the traditional way of understanding these parables. With this in mind, let me ask you another question:
If God is the shepherd and we are the sheep, and if God is the woman and we are the coin, then whose fault is it that we are lost?
Is it our fault, or is it God’s?
If I previously cast blame on the shepherd and the woman for losing what is precious to them, I now have to cast blame on God for losing me. But that does not sound like the God we know—a God who never gives up on us, who searches tirelessly, and whose joy is made complete when we are found.
What if God is not the shepherd or the woman?
What if we are the shepherd and the woman, and God is the sheep and the coin?
What if we had lost something of utmost importance—our God-centre—and found ourselves searching high and low to reconnect with the God who is at the heart of our being?
What if we were the ones seeking to find the parts of ourselves that are lost, to embrace them, and to claim how God sees and loves us?
All of us, at some point in our lives, have felt emotionally or spiritually lost. We have taken wrong turns, sometimes by mistake, sometimes deliberately. We have been at odds with others. We have distanced ourselves from God.
These feelings can consume us. We can become trapped in our own negativity, beating ourselves up for the things we are not, and losing sight of the gifts, the love, and the presence of God already around and within us.
Yet even in our lostness, our seeking is a sign of hope—a willingness to be found by God. When we sit with our feelings of being lost, when we ask questions, reflect, and notice where we are, we are taking steps toward God.
St. Augustine said, “You have made us for yourself, O God, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you.”
Our seeking is our willingness to be found so that we can rest in God’s care—and that is cause for celebration.
These parables invite us to step into the role of the shepherd and the woman: to keep searching for the God who is already near, to notice where God is hidden in our lives, and to rejoice when we rediscover the One who gives us life.
For when we take up the work of the seeker, we discover that we are never truly alone. The search itself draws us deeper into God’s presence, and the joy of finding God renews us again and again.
So let us be seekers who find, searchers who celebrate, and followers who never stop looking for the God who is always looking for us.
This is the cultural world in which Jesus lived, and in today’s Gospel reading, it is this world that he challenges.
- In the previous verses, Jesus has healed a man with dropsy on the Sabbath.
- He’s been seen eating with tax collectors and sinners.
- He has challenged the hierarchy.
And now, Jesus is invited to dine at the home of a Pharisee, which is quite odd, as it is obvious that he is not interested in playing the cultural status games, so why invite him?
Scripture suggests that the Pharisees are watching Jesus. Closely. Hoping to catch him out. Hoping to shame him, but Jesus doesn’t play along. He doesn’t try to impress. Instead, he uses the occasion to turn their whole honour-shame system upside down.
He points to the vying for the best seats at the table and bluntly [some scholars say, even rudely ] tells a parable which was Jesus’ favourite form of storytelling.
And through it, he lays down a challenge.
Stop chasing honour. Stop worrying about status. Don’t invite those who can repay you. Invite those who can’t: the poor, the crippled, the blind, the excluded.
To those at the table, this would have sounded outrageous.
To welcome the outcast was to risk your reputation.
But Jesus insists in God’s Kingdom, that is the very path to honour.
And Jesus doesn’t just say it; he lives it.
Ultimately, he bears the greatest shame of all — crucifixion.
In Roman eyes, crucifixion was utter humiliation: stripped naked, mocked, executed publicly. But God transformed that shame into glory. For the cross and Jesus’ Resurrection become the place where honour and shame are reversed forever.
We don’t live in an ancient honour-shame society, but we know what it feels like to measure our worth by other people’s opinions — by seeking popularity, success, image, achievements, social media likes.
Our culture still values recognition, just in different ways.
And today Jesus speaks the same truth to us. Your worth doesn’t come from status or reputation. Your true worth comes from God.
For God’s banquet isn’t about competition; it isn’t about who deserves to be there.
It’s about grace. A gift freely given through the person of Jesus.
And because of Jesus’ free gift to us, we are all invited to sit and dine with him at his table.
Where we don’t need to prove ourselves.
Where we don’t need to fight for our reputation.
Where we don’t need to fear being overlooked.
Because in Jesus we are already honoured. Already welcomed. Already given a place at God’s table.
And from that place of belonging, we are free to welcome others to God’s banquet, where everyone has a seat at the table and everyone belongs.
Amen