I just hate it when the remote control for the TV is lost. I start yanking out sofa cushions, sliding furniture around and accusing family members of negligence. This scene played out this past Sunday night with an unexpected outcome.
One thing I have learned when going on a remote control search: Even if you have searched through the sofa and you are sure it’s not there, look again. It’s probably in the sofa. We lost the remote control for the VCR one time. It was missing for a year. We looked through the sofa multiple times during that year. Then, a year later, while moving the sofa, we found the remote. In the sofa.
Such was the case this Sunday night. As I fumed about the missing remote, Sam came down to help look. He started looking in the sofa. “I’ve already looked there,” I said with frustration. Knowing “the one truth about missing remotes,” he just kept looking in the sofa anyway. And sure enough, we finally found the remote . . . in the sofa. But not before finding a car key, a Fisher Space Pen, and a cell phone with eight missed calls on it.
I never promised that everything I write about will have some spiritual meaning. Perhaps this little incident was just what it was: A search for the remote control. But I was reminded of it this morning while reading about the Prodigal Son. He was lost, then found. Perhaps in some small way, the world is like a giant sofa. We are at times like the lost remote. And Jesus, like Sam, just keeps on looking in the sofa until He finds us.
Luke 15:24 ‘for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ . . .