I lost my glasses.
It's been four days, and I can't find them.  The absurdity of my current state of visual affairs just struck this morning.  How can I find my glasses when I can't see?
"Well, where did you last put them?" asked my in-house analyst. 
Formulating a response, I nearly lost my temper.  "Right here," I smiled, pointing at my nose. 
"I don't see them."
"I don't see anything past my arm's length," I smiled again.
"How could you lose them?" she asked, sincerely bewildered.
 "Because I hate myself," I told her.  "I did it only to undermine my inner peace."
"You ought to be more careful."
"Did you hide them?" I countered.
She claimed innocence – again:  "Have you lost your mind?"
I have no platform from which to argue.  I have no defense.  I simply managed to accomplish the foolish impossible.  For thirty-some years I have tried everything possible to lose my glasses, and then when I least expect it – victory over all that is reasonable and rational.
It could not have happened without outside help.  Someone, or something, kidnapped my glasses.  I'm guessing it's the same evil forces that occasionally misplace the remote and stuff my car keys into previously unexplored places.  They want me to think I'm losing my mind.
I'm at a loss for any other explanation. 
I need a miracle.  For all you brethren out there not too proud to pray for an emergency spirit of discovery, please come to my aid.
How can important things disappear without a trace?  I'm baffled.
"Why aren't you dressed and in the game?" I asked my pre-teen son one time.
"Because I lost my uniform," he explained.
"Wait a minute," I interrupted him, "where did you last put it?"
How does a boy lose his uniform?
How does the American military lose 200,000 AK-47's and matching pistols in the most dangerous and volatile region in the world, without serial numbers, registrations, or clues? 
"Where did you last put them?" President Bush asked his Secretary of Defense last week.
I'm feeling better about my personal stupidity.  I've misplaced one pair of glasses; the military stationed in Iraq has lost 200,000 very dangerous weapons.
Talk about shooting ourselves in the foot!
It's conceivable we could lose this war.
If the world's great Superpower can lose a cache of guns the size of Gettysburg, what makes us think the Russians might not misplace a nuke or two?
"Sorry, Comrade Vladimir, I can't seem to find those big missiles or the submarine they are traveling on…"
"Well, Comrade, where did you last put it?"
"Somewhere in the Atlantic, I think… and by chance, have you seen my glasses?"
Is it any wonder that reasonable people are losing patience with the knuckleheads running the world?  They've apparently lost their way.
What are we going to do?  How can we combat our stupidity – at an individual level as well as the universal?  Are we really any better than Homer and Bart?   Do we have any realistic shot at redemption?
Well, yes, and here's how.  We begin by acknowledging we are lost.  I'm not talking here in terms of glasses, keys, watches, wallets, self-respect, opportunities, or wars, but instead in the terms of spiritually lost.
Never underestimate the genius of the language used by scripture.  It's no accident that Jesus defines humanity outside of Him as lost.  He could have employed a different term; He was not at a loss for words.  However, He purposely labeled us as lost because, I think, we could relate to the being and the feeling.
In Luke chapter fifteen, Jesus gently told three parables that flowed from everyday experience.  They were events and scenarios to which every individual can relate.
In the first, a hard-working shepherd lost one of his precious sheep, and he risks the flock to find and rescue it.  We feel the urgency, the desperation, and the relief.  We've been there and done that.
In the second story, he provides an account of a poor woman losing a coin.  She doesn't quit until she finds it.  Nothing can stand in her way.  She refuses to lose.  Again, we know the feeling.  We know her pain and her joy.
Have you ever lost your purse or your wallet or your debit cart or your passport or your daily heart medicine or your puppy or your grandmother?  Panic best describes the moment. 
In the final story, Jesus gets more personal with a made-for-television story about a father losing his precious son.  It has it all: intrigue, betrayal, scandal, jealousy, suspense, and a happy ending.  The lost son finally returned home to the immense joy of his waiting father (and scornful big brother).
The point is clear.  We are the lost sheep, coin, and son.  The Good News is we have a relentless shepherd, steward, and Father in pursuit!  We're lost, but Jesus wants us found!
Consider the many implications.  They all end in hope.  Panic is but for the moment for all those trusting in Jesus.
Life is in large part punctuated by devastating losses.  We lose our teeth-- twice.  We lose our innocence. We lose our job. We lose our parents.  We lose our hair.  We lose our spouse. We lose our sanity.  We ultimately lose our life.
But none of it really matters as long as we don't lose our soul.  Thank You, Jesus!
Eternity – the forever of never losing anything!