I fondly remember my years as a Boy Scout. For the most part. I paid my dues, aquired my merit badges, and eventually attained the rank of Eagle Scout, one month shy of my 18th birthday. Then there was that one time when I got lost at Boy Scout Camp.

I know what you’re thinking. Aren’t Boy Scouts supposed to be really good at directions and reading compasses and finding their way around? Not me. I am both directionally-challenged and compass-deprived.

I just remember the hopeless feeling of not knowing where I was or how to get back to where I wanted to be. I can think of few times in my life when I felt as helpless and terrified as I did in that moment.

I think a lot of people are spending their lives like that. They don’t know where they are in life or where they’re going, but they know for sure it isn’t where they want to be. They’re lost and scared that they’ll never be found.

I’m thankful God isn’t one to wait around for us to finally get our acts together and start heading in the right direction. Before you and I knew we needed help, God already was down here looking for us. We were as important as the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son in the eyes of God and he went to extravagant lengths to find us and rescue us.

Maybe you remember what you were like before Jesus changed you. I know I’ve seen enough glimpses of what I could have been without Jesus to be immensely grateful for what he’s done in my life. I am reminded every day that no one is better than God at finding those who are lost and bringing them home. He won’t ever give up at any point seeking his lost sheep and lost sons until he brings every last one of them home.

That’s what I love about God.

By the way, my Scout troop found me and brought me back to camp. I probably lost my Scout-cred for good that day, but I didn’t care. I was just glad to be found again.