The other day, God answered a prayer I had been praying for about a month. I had lost a letter. Such a small thing, and yet it was priceless to me. It was old, yellowed, and crumbling. I was a letter from a law office, sent in 1933, informing my great-grandmother that her long-lost great-granduncle had died in California. He had not made a will, so his fortune was to be divided between any of his surviving relatives. The law office had found 36 such relatives, one of whom was Lila Green, for whom I am named. The “fortune” had been greatly reduced by the Great Depression– his stocks were worthless, and his properties greatly reduced in value. Still, the share that came to my great-grandparents allowed them to pay off debts, keep their farm, and even invest at a time when others were destitute.

I had intended to scan the letter and include it in a book I am writing about the lives, times, and families of my great-grandparents. But I had put it aside and misplaced it.

Such a dingy, yellowed, fragile letter– just a single sheet in an equally yellowed and fragile envelope with a three-cent stamp still clinging to one corner. I could not remember where I had placed it for “later.” I looked everywhere, or so I thought. And I had prayed that God would show me where it was. It seemed as though God might be telling me to “just let go” of the letter. That it wasn’t necessary for the book, and I was wasting my time looking for it. Still, it hurt to think that my great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother had preserved the letter, just to have me lose it when it could be useful again.

And then, my husband asked me to look for some paperwork to finish our taxes. Oh NO! Surely I could find important papers from the past year– I was pretty certain I knew where they would be. Still, I prayed that God would help me find them quickly. And I did! But as I was putting the financial papers away in the aftermath, I found a book bag behind the box of receipts and tax papers. It looked empty– no books inside– but it wasn’t. There, waiting patiently, was the letter, along with some other old papers I wanted to keep in my family history files!

I was so thrilled! I danced around, thanking God for His answer to my prayer. I was far more thrilled, in fact, over finding that letter, than I was about finding the tax papers!

But what about the “lost” people I encounter each day? When was the last time I put aside my other tasks and spent time “searching” for ways to share the gospel? How much time have I spent reaching out to “find” the hurting, the needy, the hopeless? Have I done more than just say a quick prayer, or shed a couple of tears? Have I even prayed consistently for weeks or even years?

Of course I pray for family members I know and love; for old friends and classmates who are struggling; even for people groups or nations where Christians are being persecuted, and the Gospel is being hindered. But that’s not the same.

This letter reminds me that there are people– many of whom “look” rather worn or worthless– people for whom Christ gave His life to save. People who need someone to listen, and offer hope. They need to be “found.” Even so, not all of them will accept the Gospel message. I can’t force them to see God for who He really is; I can’t make them choose to follow Christ. But I can do a better job of letting them know how very much God loves them, and wants a relationship with them. Yes, even those who feel yellowed and used; even those who have been sitting, forgotten, lost in the shuffle.

15 ^1-3 By this time a lot of men and women of questionable reputation were hanging around Jesus, listening intently. The Pharisees and religion scholars were not pleased, not at all pleased. They growled, “He takes in sinners and eats meals with them, treating them like old friends.” Their grumbling triggered this story. ^4-7 “Suppose one of you had a hundred sheep and lost one. Wouldn’t you leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the lost one until you found it? When found, you can be sure you would put it across your shoulders, rejoicing, and when you got home call in your friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Celebrate with me! I’ve found my lost sheep!’ 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. ^8-10 “Or imagine a woman who has ten coins and loses one. Won’t she light a lamp and scour the house, looking in every nook and cranny until she finds it? And when she finds it you can be sure she’ll call her friends and neighbors: ‘Celebrate with me! I found my lost coin!’ Count on it—that’s the kind of party God’s angels throw every time one lost soul turns to God.”

Luke 15:1-10 (The Message)

I thank God that He helped me find the old letter. But I am eternally grateful that He seeks out and saves people like me, and like you. I pray that today, I will have eyes that see, and a heart that reaches out to the “lost.”