Confessions of a Lostologist

In my lifetime I have been lost more than most people-- in the physical sense as well as the spiritual. I am, in fact, what is called “a lostologist.” 

There are good reasons for this. I am a spiritual questor who always wants to be part of something mystical, something bigger than myself, something that matters. I long for purpose and vision.

My life goals were (1) Avoid dreariness. (2) Be constantly forced to seek God. (3) And color so far out of the lines that only He could make the picture into something beautiful.

The problem of course, is that sometimes I get lost.

To some extent we are all lostologists with a deep need to discover who we are, why we are, and where we are going. These are big questions and important ones. Also, we must learn what to do when we get lost.

When I was in East Africa we had a “safe house” where each of us went one day a week for rest and a toilet that sometimes flushed. I was heading back to camp one morning when it occurred to me that I’d never driven there all by myself.

There was no road. We navigated for several hours using vague landmarks.

Had I written down the directions they would have looked like, “At the tree with the monkeys, turn slightly to the left. When you come to the 3 giant ant hills, veer to the left again. When you see Toucans in a tree, turn right and cross the dry creek bed.”

An obvious predicament was that the monkeys and Toucans moved to different trees. The real problem was that I had never paid attention.

Nonetheless, at dawn I headed into the sub-Saharan desert. Less than an hour later I had no idea where I was, what direction to drive, and I wasn’t even sure I could get back to the little town with sometimes flushing toilets.

I was completely lost.

In Luke Chapter 15 Jesus did a teaching for lostologists. At the end of his parable about the lost sheep, he said, “Count on it—there’s more joy in heaven over one sinner’s rescued life than over ninety-nine good people in no need of rescue.”

Could the sheep have found itself? Of course not. And neither can we. Fortunately, we delight God every time we call to Him, “Help me. I’m lost again.”

There are pitfalls that lead into the wilderness of spiritual lostness. First is a lack of preparation. I took off with no map and no directions. If sojourners want to stay the course it is essential that they know the Word of God and exercise their faith.

Second is faulty equipment. The Holy Spirit is our working compass, but sometimes our reading breaks down. It happens to all lostologists. A broken compass can be the best thing that ever happens when it reminds us how desperately we need God to find us.

I finally stopped driving. All I could do was pray, pour out my heart, crying in fear, loneliness, despair, and confusion. It was an honest prayer-- not always respectful, but spoken from the depth of my spiritual lostness. In anger I irreverently called God a “turkey.” Even more than safe passage, I wanted a supernatural revelation.  

When I looked up, a huge flock of wild ostriches were running across the road-- giant turkeys on stilts. Also, an approaching jeep of relief workers who led me all the way to our camp.

God delights when our lostness leads us back to His life-saving grace time and time again.