I’ve heard a few sermons about the parable of the lost sheep—and to be fair, the preachers on those days did a good job—but I couldn’t help but think about one thing… well, 99 of them.
The parable was so named by us, not Jesus. He told the parable-story, and we added the title, ghost-writing it, ready for print.
The text in Luke 15:3–7 opens with Jesus sitting with sinners and tax collectors—those people, the ones everyone else avoids. And the religious leaders? They’re not having it. They’re grumbling, whispering, shaking their heads: This man welcomes sinners… and eats with them? They’re almost choking on their own bitterness and resentment, and Jesus, knowing exactly what’s going on in their tiny little minds, responds the way He often did—with a story.
It was a good story, worth pondering, and consequential in its conclusion. It was a little like saying:
“Imagine a shepherd with 100 sheep. He counts them, one by one, like always. Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. Wait. Something’s wrong. One’s missing.”
Now, hold that story for a second because here’s the twist: you and I, as a shepherd in that field on that day, might think, Hey, I’ve still got ninety-nine. 99% – that’s a good percentage, a bit disappointing but no big deal.
But not this shepherd.
This shepherd? He leaves the ninety-nine in the open country. Vulnerable. Alone. He risks everything for the one—because the one matters. The one has value. The one is worth the risk. I’m ashamed to say, by this time I would probably be back home with the fire on, enjoying a meal. Not Jesus.
Back in the countryside, the ‘good’ shepherd, when he finds the mobile lamb chops? He doesn’t scold the sheep for wandering. He doesn’t lecture it. No, he lifts it onto his shoulders, carries it back home, smiling, laughing, shouting for joy. And then? He calls his friends from across town and neighbours from his street to celebrate. Celebrate! Over one sheep.
Why? Because to this shepherd, what was lost being found is worth a party. Always. And then Jesus does the mic drop:
“Just so, I tell you, there is more joy in heaven—more celebration, more noise, more dancing—over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine people who think they don’t need it.”
What’s Really Happening Here?
I’ve dressed the story up a little, but the truth is still the same. This isn’t just about sheep. It’s about value. It’s about the kind of love that doesn’t add up, that leaves behind what’s safe to find what’s gone. It’s about the God who risks it all for the ones who feel unworthy, unseen, unloved—that’s who God is.
The God who sees you when you think no one does. The God who comes looking for you when you’ve wandered so far the map is useless, the satnav broke, Google Maps and Waze are offline, and you just can’t find your way back. He’s the God who throws a party—yes, a party—when you’re found.
Those angelic beings that encircle the throne of God celebrate the one here, the one there, and this one and that one, as second by second they come, dancing, singing, worshipping God for each one. We’ll see them one day, and who knows? They might tell the inside story of what happened on the day you were found.
Let’s not miss the ending of the parable either. Jesus is speaking to the Pharisees—the ones who think they have it all together. They consider themselves the ninety-nine. And He flips the script. Why? Because maybe being “righteous” isn’t about being perfect—it’s about recognising you need to be carried home too.
What Do We Do With This?
We live in a world of ninety-nine people. Sometimes it’s also a tired mindset in the church that says, Play it safe, don’t take risks, stay comfortable. But this parable? It’s an open invitation—or even an incitement—to leave the comfortable ninety-nine. To go after the one: the neighbour, the outcast, the stranger, the person who’s fallen through the cracks.
And when they’re found? When healing happens? When redemption shows up? When the gospel does its great and majestic work?
We party—or at least we need to learn to do just that! Proper pizza, cake, music, and even a bit of dad-dancing. Maybe that’s just a little bit what heaven is like—a constant celebration of lost people being found.
The good Shepherd sounds to great to be true – that is until you look at Jesus – and then hear His warm voice saying to you, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” (John 10:11).
It’s all about Him. He’s the One that goes after one – leaving the other 99 in the care and protection of multitude of angels that serve Him with fierce devotion and loyalty.
