Seekers

The popular four-day annual Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival has been taking place on a 700-acre farm in Manchester, Tennessee since 2002 and averages anywhere from 70,000 to 90,000 attendees. A small part of the festival is the Soberoo encampment, a meeting of alcoholics who pledge to stay sober during the four days amid a sea of users of hallucinogenic drugs and any and all kinds of alcohol.

Journalist Barrett Swanson, writing a very lengthy article for Harper's Magazine (and supported in part by the John Templeton Foundation), composed a deep dive into lives, struggles, hopes and failures as he rubbed shoulders with the group for the entirety of the festival. He has noticed a new trend in some festivals and mass gatherings:

"And so it may well be that our endless sacraments of self-care and communal transformation are nothing more than the symptoms of a deeply noxious culture, one that is desperately trying to heal itself through the ablutions of mass catharsis."
The Soberoo attendees he gets to know are searching for something "special" that can only be found in mass jubilation. A kind of transcendence. Many of the other attendees are possibly searching for the same thing. Swanson is skeptical:

"Transcendence, in the end, is not the festival’s ambition. Instead, it is to profit off a national attitude of paralytic disenchantment, an accretive, widespread feeling that late-capitalist life in this country is vacuous and without meaning, and that for reasons that pass understanding we have all come gradually to believe that our ultimate spiritual undertaking is not the cultivation of personal integrity or a system of other-directed ethics but the attainment of weekend frivolities and a glitzy, remunerative profession. It is a tacit but profound sadness—a national epidemic—one you can see in all the intoxicated faces that are roaming around this campus. It is a humiliation of consciousness in which we see ourselves as nothing more than a herd of citizen-consumers...."

The Soberoo group members have found no epiphany by the festival's end. Swanson thinks of his own former struggles as he observes many of those at the festival who, not of the Soberoo group, freely imbibe. Two drunken kids are:
"..... staggering around the vendor tents like just-debarked seamen. They are mumbling nonsense to each other that will elude their memories later. What were we even talking about, man? And, weirdly, it’s my annoyance with these kids that ends up preserving my sobriety, because in a flash of insight, I am struck by a paradox that feels like a revelation—namely, that it is the escapism of the festivalgoers themselves that is causing me to escape them, that their intoxication is making me so sad that what now seems like a spiritual solution to the problem of disenchantment would only end up being a self-defeating intoxication.

"This is how it was when I was still drinking. Alcohol felt like a trapdoor out of the meaninglessness of existence, but in my drinking the way I did, at the expense of family and friends, I had ensured that my life had lacked any enduring significance. Out of cowardice disguised as contempt, I’d thought I had escaped the disappointments of the world when in reality I had become a part of the world’s disappointments."

A writer admits that secularism still hasn’t found an alternative to belief in God. Lauren Jackson writes, “I knew the potency of believing, really believing, that I had a certain place in the cosmos. That I was eternally loved. That life made sense. Or that it would, one day, for sure. I had that, and I left it all.

I spent my 20s worshiping at the altar of work and, in my free time, testing secular ideas for how to live well. I built a community. I volunteered. I cared for my nieces and nephews. I pursued wellness. I paid for workout classes on Sunday mornings, practiced mindfulness, went to therapy, visited saunas and subscribed to meditation apps. I tried book clubs and running clubs. I cobbled together moral instruction from books on philosophy and whatever happened to move me on Instagram. Nothing has felt quite like [the religion of my childhood].

Jackson concludes:

But I don’t feel I can go back… I’ve been steeped in secularism for a decade, and I can no longer access the uncritical belief I once felt… [But] my spiritual longing persists — and it hasn’t been sated by secularism. I want a god… I still want it all to be true: miracles, souls, some sort of cosmic alchemy that makes sense of the chaos.

For years, I haven’t been able to say that publicly. But it feels like something is changing. That maybe the culture is shifting. That maybe we’re starting to recognize that it’s possible to be both believing and discerning after all.

Despite decades of medical and cosmetic innovations, we haven't quite yet reached Never-Never Land, where no one ever grows older. But we're not that far away from a related place, Never-Lost Land, where no one and nothing gets lost.

According to an article in The New Yorker by Tim Lu, we've entered an age of Never-Lost Land, where no one and nothing gets lost. Thanks to G.P.S, Bluetooth, and the Internet, it is becoming harder both to become lost and to lose things.

This generation could be the last to have a real sense of what it means to get lost or to lose treasured objects. "Get lost" will become an archaic expression. Most of us will react to that possibility with relief. Yet it seems worth wondering whether something will be lost in Never-Lost Land, in a world without such a common and universally defining experience.

Sure, it's a relief, Lu argues, but have we lost something in the process of never losing anything. Lu continues: "While no one wants to lose their dog, or treasured object, maybe there's something to be gained by losing things, in the right dosage, at least … It helps toughen us, and it helps us understand the way the world actually is, which is to say, really quite indifferent to our well-being." He also thinks that by losing things it helps us stay less attached to the material world.

But will we ever reach Never-Lost Land? Wu doesn't think so. Instead, he thinks we will live in Nearly-Never-Lost Land, "where loss will be less common, but, when it does happen, even more traumatizing." He ends by saying, "It is something of the paradox of technological progress that, in our efforts to become invulnerable, we usually gain new, unexpected vulnerabilities, leaving us in vaguely the same condition after all."

After losing his dog for 19 days, one Utah man turned heartbreak into action, using cutting-edge drone technology to help others.

Keith Anderson’s pup Oliver went missing in the Unitas last summer. The search felt overwhelming; he described it as “like losing a family member.” Throughout the search, many suggested using a drone with a thermal camera to help locate Oliver. However, Keith found it nearly impossible to find anyone locally who had such equipment. Eventually Oliver was found with the help of a trapper and the community, but the experience left Keith determined to ensure others wouldn’t face the same challenges.

Motivated by his ordeal, Keith invested in a $7,000 drone equipped with thermal detection technology to assist others in finding their missing pets. He explained, “It’s pretty easy to quickly confirm what you’re looking at and the shape and movement of a dog.” Armed with an FAA license, Keith now volunteers his drone services across Utah, helping families locate their lost pets.

Keith said, “It feels really good to help people out with something like this because it’s not easily accessible to everyone.” However, Keith emphasizes that the drone is just one part of the equation. Successfully finding a missing pet often requires a collective effort from the community, combining high-tech solutions with teamwork and perseverance.

Through his dedication, Keith is turning his personal loss into a lifeline for others, proving that technology and compassion can make all the difference in reuniting families with their beloved pets.

Possible Preaching Angle:

So also, God seeks the lost with compassion and diligence. God often redeems our pain and loss by shaping us into instruments of compassion and service, using our suffering to bless those around us.

The billionaire Elon Musk has recently been invoking Christianity as he discusses core beliefs. Raised Anglican in South Africa, young Musk got an early taste of differing religious views attending a Jewish preschool. “I was just singing ‘Hava Nagila’ one day and `Jesus, I Love You’ the next,” he jokes.

As he grew older, Musk has said, he turned to the great religious books—the Bible, Quran, Torah, some Hindu texts—to deal with an existential crisis of meaning. And he looked to philosophers such as Arthur Schopenhauer and Friedrich Nietzsche.

But not until the boy discovered science fiction, he says, did he begin to find what he was looking for. In particular, he says, it was the lesson he took away from the “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” that the purpose of life wasn’t so much about finding the big answers but asking the right questions.

“The answer is the easy part,” Musk said during a public event. “The question is the hard part.”

Recent tweets have included: “Jesus taught love, kindness, and forgiveness. I used to think that turning the other cheek was weak & foolish, but I was the fool for not appreciating its profound wisdom.”

And: “While I’m not a particularly religious person, I do believe that the teachings of Jesus are good and wise.”

Describing himself as “cultural Christian,” Musk indicated his guiding belief goes back to that of seeking greater understanding. “That is my religion, for the lack of a better way to describe it, it’s really a religion of curiosity,” he said. “The religion of greater enlightenment.”

Every year, YouVersion announces which Bible verses are the most shared, bookmarked, and highlighted by its users. The list often includes the classics like Jeremiah 29:11 or John 3:16, but this year, the app announced that Philippians 4:6 took the top spot.

The Scripture reads: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”

Yeah, that checks out for 2024.

YouVersion founder and CEO Bobby Gruenewald believes this verse’s popularity shows that people are regularly turning to God when they face stress and daily struggles.

Gruenewald said, ‘In many cases, our anxiety comes from holding onto worries that we aren’t meant to carry. To me, this verse being sought out the most this year is an illustration that our community is seeking God in prayer and choosing to trust Him to carry their burdens—and we’re seeing that supported in the data.’

Like many of the researchers who study how people find their way from place to place, David Uttal is a poor navigator. The cognitive scientist says, “When I was 13 years old, I got lost on a Boy Scout hike, and I was lost for two and a half days.” And he’s still bad at finding his way around.

The world is full of people like Uttal—and their opposites, the folks who always seem to know exactly where they are and how to get where they want to go. Scientists sometimes measure navigational ability by asking someone to point toward an out-of-sight location and it’s immediately obvious that some people are better at it than others.

Cognitive psychologist Nora Newcombe says, “People are never perfect, but they can be as accurate as single-digit degrees off, which is incredibly accurate.” But others, when asked to indicate the target’s direction, seem to point at random. “They have literally no idea where it is.”

Several cultural factors were associated with wayfinding skills. Country folk did better, on average, than people from cities. And among city-dwellers, those from cities with more chaotic street networks did better than those from cities like Chicago, where the streets form a regular grid. This is perhaps because residents of grid cities don’t need to build such complex mental maps.

Results like these suggest that an individual’s life experience may be one of the biggest determinants of how well they navigate. Support for the notion that people might improve with practice also comes from studies of what happens when people stop using their navigation skills. Researchers recruited 50 young adults and questioned them about their lifetime experience of driving with GPS. Then they tested the volunteers in a virtual world that required them to navigate without GPS. The heaviest GPS users did worse, they found. This strongly suggests that GPS reliance causes diminished skills, rather than poor skills leading to greater GPS use.

Possible Preaching Angles:

1) Guidance; Lostness - Some people are better at staying on course than others. However, in the spiritual realm, we are all hopelessly lost until Jesus came to our rescue (Isa. 53:6; Luke 19:10); 2) Believers; Direction; Sin, consequences of – Believers sometimes wander away from the truth and need the rod and the staff of the shepherd (Ps. 23:4; Ps. 119:176; Jam. 5:19).

Most people believe that evolution provides an adequate account of human origins. But for substantial numbers around the world, that doesn’t preclude divine direction. A new survey spanning North America, South America, and Europe found that 13 to 29 percent of people believe in God-guided evolution.

People Who Say Humans Evolved in A Process Guided by God:

13% Germany

22% United Kingdom

25% Argentina

29% United States

When a tornado hit Lamar County, Texas, Dakota Hudson and Lauren Patterson feared they would not survive. Hudson said, “We could feel the house start lifting up around us. We could hear the creaking and breaking.”

When the couple emerged from their bathroom, everything around them was destroyed, including their home, a family member’s house next door, and all their neighbors' homes. Hudson said, “God had his hand over our entire community. Looking at this destruction it’s hard to fathom how anyone could survive it.”

As the couple began checking on neighbors and learned everyone was physically OK, Hudson realized the engagement ring he’d just purchased to surprise Patterson was lost in the debris. He said, “Needle in a haystack doesn’t come close to what we were looking for.”

That is until the Paris Junior College softball team stopped by the property to offer help cleaning up. Once the team heard about the missing ring, they got to work. Outfielder Kate Rainey said, “I basically made my mind up. I was going to find the ring.” Rainey and her teammates searched for hours until she spotted a little miracle buried in the mud.

Though it wasn’t the proposal he had planned, Hudson decided there was no better moment to pop the question. Covered in mud, he dropped to one knee, surrounded by debris and with a team of softball players cheering him on. “We’re safe. We’re here. Everybody’s alright. It’s a miracle the ring was found. What better time to do it?” Hudson said. Patterson said “yes” immediately. “This was the light in a very dark moment. And it is still a dark moment, but this has given us reason to breathe and smile a little.”

The couple stayed in a hotel until they determined their next steps. They hope to rebuild on the same property and say they are extremely grateful for the love and support they’ve received from the community during this challenging time.

In a remarkable twist of fate, a couple from Bowling Green, Kentucky experienced the rare joy of winning the lottery twice—first by winning the prize and then by finding their lost ticket.

In November, the Kentucky Lottery announced that Mark Perdue and his wife were the winners of $50,000. Mark Perdue recalled the moment when he realized he won, recalling the store owner's words of congratulations.

“I said, ‘For what?’ And she said, ‘You won the lottery.’ I said, ‘I wish.’ She said, ‘You did, I have you on video.’”

However, the Perdue’s rejoicing turned to despair when they couldn’t find the ticket. Despite their best efforts, the ticket remained missing for several days, leading them to believe it had been accidentally discarded. His wife said, “I’ve been beating myself up for three months thinking I threw this ticket away.”

However, the story took a fortunate turn three months later in February. Mark was inspecting a company car, and found the ticket. He rarely does such inspections, but a visitor needed transportation, which prompted it.

“I don’t know how long it might have sat out there if I hadn’t needed the car,” he mused. The discovery left him visibly shaken.

With the ticket finally in hand, the couple visited the lottery headquarters the next day, and received a check for $36,000 after taxes. Reflecting on their plans for the money, the couple expressed a desire to clear debts and perhaps celebrate their good fortune with a trip.

Possible Preaching Angle:

You should use caution in using this illustration because it is not intended to encourage anyone to play the lottery. But, this does illustrate the elation of those who find what they believe was irretrievably lost, such as woman who found the lost coin (Luke 15:8-10).

Brian Grazer, Hollywood producer of such movies as Apollo 13, Splash, and A Beautiful Mind, writes:

More than intelligence, or persistence or connections, curiosity has allowed me to live the life I wanted. And yet for all the value that curiosity has brought to my life and work, when I look around, I don’t see people talking about it, writing about it, encouraging it, and using it nearly as widely as they could.

Curiosity seems so simple. Innocent even. Labrador retrievers are charmingly curious. Porpoises are playfully, mischievously curious. A two-year-old going through the kitchen cabinets is exuberantly curious—and delighted at the noisy entertainment value of her curiosity. Every person who types a query into Google’s search engine and presses ENTER is curious about something—and that happens 6 million times a minute, every minute of every day.

Possible Preaching Angle

Brian Grazer writes about curiosity in a way that might remind us of how Jesus habitually piqued curiosity in others, whether it was the woman at the well or the disciples imagining a camel squeezing through the eye of a needle. Curiosity can be what enables the searcher to find the life they are looking for in Jesus Christ.

French atheist Guillaume Bignon grew up in a loving family in France. He did well in school and landed a job as a computer scientist in finance. He also excelled in sports, growing to be six feet four inches, and played volleyball in a national league, traveling the country every weekend for the games. All in all, he was happy with his life. The chances of ever hearing the gospel—let alone believing it—were incredibly slim.

While vacationing in the Caribbean he met an attractive young woman. She mentioned that she believed in God and believed that sex belonged in marriage. This was a problem to him, so his new goal in life was to disabuse his girlfriend of her beliefs which were standing in the way of sex. He started thinking: “What good reason was there to think God exists? But, if I was going to refute Christianity, I first needed to know what it claimed. So, I picked up a Bible.” He also prayed, “If there is a God, then here I am. Why don’t you go ahead and reveal yourself to me? I’m open.”

A week or two after his unbelieving prayer, one of his shoulders started to fail, without any evident injury. The doctor couldn’t see anything wrong, but he was told that he needed to rest his shoulder and to stop playing volleyball for a couple of weeks.

Against my will, I was now off the courts. With my Sundays available, I decided I would go to a church to see what Christians do when they get together. I drove to an evangelical congregation in Paris, visiting it as I would a zoo: to see exotic animals that I had read about in books but had never seen in real life.

After the service he hurried to the exit door to avoid all contact with people and the pastor. But as he reached the door a chilling blast went up from his stomach to his throat. He heard himself saying: “This is ridiculous. I have to figure this out.” So, he closed the door, and went straight to the pastor. Bignon said, “So, you believe in God?” “Yes,” the pastor said, smiling. “So how does that work out?” I asked. “We can talk about it,” he said.

After most of the people left, they went to his office and spoke for hours. Bignon bombarded the pastor with questions, who patiently and intelligently explained his worldview. Bignon writes, “My unbelieving prayers shifted to, ‘God, if you are real, you need to make it clear so I can jump in and not make a fool of myself.’”

But instead of a light from heaven, God reactivated his conscience. He remembered a particularly sinister misdeed and God brought it back to his mind in full force. Bignon writes:

I was struck with an intense guilt, and disgusted at the thought of what I had done and the lies I had covered it with. All of a sudden, the quarter dropped. That is why Jesus had to die: Me. He took upon himself the penalty that I deserved, so that in God’s justice, my sins would be forgiven—by grace as a gift, rather than by my righteous deeds or religious rituals. He died so that I may live. I placed my trust in Jesus, and asked him to forgive me. This, in short, is how God takes a French atheist and makes a Christian theologian out of him.

Editor’s Note: Guillaume Bignon went on to obtain a master’s in New Testament studies. In the process, he met a wonderful woman, got married, had two children, and attained a PhD in philosophical theology.

A recent Aperture video gives a concise overview of absurdism: the philosophical theory that existence in general is absurd. It begins with the Greek mythological story of Sisyphus. The gods were displeased with his arrogance and punished him with the futile task of pushing a rock up a hill, then having the rock roll back down every time he reached the top.

Classical interpretations of the myth view it as an allegory for the futility of trying to escape death. No matter how powerful or clever a person is, we're all doomed to meet the same fate. More modern audiences have found something more relatable about Sisyphus' struggle: seeing it not as a simple parable about the inevitability of death but more like a metaphor for the drudgery and monotony of their own lives.

Every day we wake up, make coffee, take commute to work, stare at a computer for hours, get yelled at by our boss, stare at the computer some more, then travel back home, binge Netflix or YouTube while eating dinner, go to bed and then wake up and do it all over again. Just like Sisyphus we seem condemned to repeat the same meaningless tasks over and over and over.

Most of us do this every day for the rest of our lives as though we're sleepwalking, never waking up or stopping to ask why. For some of us, one day we're standing on a street corner preparing to go to work, when in an instant we're struck by the strangeness of it all. Suddenly nothing appears to have purpose. Life is haphazard and meaningless. You look around and you whisper to yourself: Why are all of these people even in such a hurry? For that matter, why am I? What's the point of all this? Why am I even alive?

You can watch the video here (0-1 min. 57 sec.).

Evangelicalism is now the largest religious demographic in Central America, according to a poll of about 4,000 people in five countries. More than a third of people from Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica told researchers that they are evangelical, while another 29 percent said they are “nondenominational believers.”

Only about a third of people in the region said they were Catholic—down from about 60 percent in the 1970s. Some scholars have attributed the shift to internal Catholic conflict and the long fallout from the church’s political affiliations on the extreme right and left, along with the disruptions of urbanization.

Evangelical theologian Samuel Escobar, noting the trend in an interview in 2006, said Catholics who moved to Central American cities found empowerment in their evangelical conversion. He said, “Their decision to accept Christ meant a change in patterns of behavior which helped people to reorient their lives.”

Kenneth E. Bailey, who spent 40 years living and teaching New Testament in Egypt, Lebanon, Jerusalem, and Cyprus, writes:

While living in the south of Egypt, a group of friends and I traveled deep into the Sahara Desert by camel. As our trek began, the temperature soared to above 110° Fahrenheit in the shade, and there was no shade. On our way, one goat-skin water bag leaked all of its precious contents. With consumption high due to the heat, we ran out of water, and for a day and a half we pressed on while enduring intense thirst.

The goal of the excursion was a famous well named Bir Shaytoun, deep in the desert. Our guide promised us that it was never dry — ah, but could we survive to reach its life-giving liquid silver? My mouth became completely dry, and eating was impossible, because swallowing felt like the rubbing of two pieces of sandpaper together. My vision became blurred, and the struggle to keep moving became harder with each step. We knew that if the well was dry, our armed guards would probably have forcibly seized our three baggage camels, and ridden them back to the valley, leaving the rest of us to die.

As I staggered on, my mind turned to this verse ["Blessed are those who … thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled"]. I knew that I had never sought righteousness with the same single-minded passion that I now gave to the quest for water.

Editor’s Note: The group did manage to stagger to the well, and it was full of “the wine of God,” as water is named by desert tribesmen in the Middle East.

More Americans believe their home is inhabited by someone or something that isn’t a living being. A study from the company Vivint found that nearly half of the thousand surveyed homeowners believed that their house was haunted. Another survey of 1,000 people found similar results, with 44 percent of respondents saying that they’ve lived in a haunted house.

One researcher offers the following explanations for this phenomenon. Haunted houses can be “a way to connect to the past or a sense of enchantment in the everyday world. [Younger generations in particular] might be searching for meaning in new places. If the modern world they live in isn’t providing food for the soul … it’s not hard to figure out that younger people will search elsewhere for that and find the idea of an alternate world — of ghosts, aliens, et cetera — to be enticing to explore.”

Another researcher claims that the pandemic also played a role in society’s relationship with houses and ghosts. The presence of death in our culture increased, igniting a desire for evidence of an afterlife for some people. “Think of all the sudden, and often not-sufficiently-ritually-mourned deaths during COVID. Many times, people lost loved ones with no last contact, no funeral.”

Possible Preaching Angles:

When people stop attending church or believing in Christianity they don’t stop seeking “spiritual experiences.” The spiritual hunger is still there.

In the horror of 9/11, Charles H. Featherstone turned from Islam to Christianity. In an issue of Christianity Today he shared his story:

Although both of his parents were raised as Lutherans, his mother never had much use for religion, and his father lost his faith in God in the jungles of South Vietnam. When his father left the army, the family settled down in Southern California where Charles attended school. He writes:

I had been on the receiving end of my father’s intense but sporadic violence for years. I learned to both fear and hate him. School quickly became unsafe as well: I was bullied, terrorized, and abused regularly. There was no one to trust. I was frightened, incredibly alone, and increasingly angry. Would anyone ever love and value me?

Searching for something to do with his life he began studying journalism at San Francisco State University. Charles said: “That’s where I found Islam. A friend introduced me to the Qur’an, and I was entranced by its words. The Muslims who first taught me welcomed me as no one else had before.”

But Islam also provided religious and political fuel for his anger. At one mosque he fell in with a group of jihadis. They discussed the texts of revolutionary Islam. One brother went to fight in Bosnia, and Charles wanted to join him. But there was Jennifer, whom he’d met at San Francisco State. There would be no one to care for her. He said, “I belonged to her, and she to me. This was a turning point. The anger that had burned in my soul was beginning to burn itself out.”

He started a journalistic career which eventually took him to offices in Lower Manhattan, right across from the World Trade Center. He was there on the morning of September, 11, 2001.

In the chaos and terror of the streets below, as I looked up at the burning twin towers and watched people tumble to their deaths, life-changing words came to me—words I suddenly heard inside my head: “My love is all that matters, and this is who I am.” I knew then that everything I understood about God, about sin and redemption, about the whole human condition, had changed. What happened was the kind of divine intervention that drove Abraham to leave home, trusting in God’s promises. The kind of force that struck Saul blind on the road to Damascus.

Charles and Jennifer began attending a church in Virginia.

The people showed me that it was the risen Jesus Christ who had spoken to me. They taught me the gospel, proclaiming the forgiveness of sins for the entire world. This is who I had met that horrible day in September. It was Jesus Christ who, in the midst of terror and death, assured me that his love is all that matters.

I belong to Jesus. He saw me and told me to follow. I left everything and obeyed. So, I trust God. For the first time in my life, I know who I am. I know whose I am. And that is all that matters.

Editor’s Note: Charles H. Featherstone is the author of The Love That Matters: Meeting Jesus in the Midst of Terror and Death .

Rich Gilson and his wife, Suzanne, purchased a house in Wildwood, New Jersey, about four years ago, and they have been working on additions and renovations to the home during that time. Gilson, who works in home inspections and renovations, was able to start working on the driveway of the house in the area in front of the home’s garage.

Gilson said, “So I start digging. I’m hitting concrete. I'm hitting rock. I'm hitting glass. Then I found these two things, and they look like root balls. I throw them in the soil pile, both of them, thinking they’re just roots.”

As he continued his work outside on Sunday, he came across one of the cylindrical objects again. “I pick it up, and I'm thinking what is this? Why are these things following me, right? I look at the edge, and I think ‘I can see something there.' It looked like paper. So, I started tugging at the edge, and I knew immediately what it was. I thought ‘this is money.’”

The money was wrapped in brown paper. Gilson and his wife began pulling the cylinder apart, and it amounted to rolls of $10 and $20 bills, totaling $1,000. That money would have been worth a lot more at the time: $1,000 in 1934 is the equivalent of more than $22,000 today when accounting for inflation, per the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.

Gilson said, “So I start to think, OK, either somebody robbed a bank because all these bills came from the same lot,” or he believes that someone may have taken their money out of a bank during the Great Depression in the U.S.

Gilson added that he’s still curious about the money’s story, where it came from and whether someone simply forgot about it. He also hopes that people who see his discovery don’t come looking for more of the money. Gilson said, “Please don’t come to my house with a shovel. I’m trying to finish the house, not make more work for myself.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

This story brings to life Christ's parable of the treasure buried in a field. Like the kingdom of heaven, sometimes the most precious things in the world are hidden from view for a while. God has surprising hidden treasure which only the diligent can find. The kingdom of heaven (Matt. 13:44), godly wisdom (Prov. 2:3-5), and the Word of God (Jer. 15:16) are waiting to be discovered by the earnest seeker.

Tara Edelschick was raised in a home that was loving, loud, and fun, but an undercurrent of anxiety coursed through it all. The world was seen as a scary place. Tara said, “The message of my childhood was clear and insistent: Work, play, and love hard. Stay in control at all times, because something scary is waiting to take you down. I heeded that message into adulthood.”

She went to a great college, found the perfect job, and chose a wonderful husband. She thought to herself, “Weaker souls might need a god, but I needed no such crutch. I can orchestrate the perfect life. But that belief was obliterated when my husband, Scott, died from complications during a routine surgery. Ten days later, I delivered our first child, Sarah, stillborn.”

During the next year, she began a search for God. She visited psychics, read New Age thinkers, and attended meditation classes. Her forays into faith were attempts to make sense of what had happened to her and to control a world in which she had far less control than she thought she had.

Then she started reading the Book of John with a friend. Tony was the only Christian she knew who didn’t try to explain away the loss of her husband and baby. He said that if she would just read the Bible, God would do the convincing. So, they read the Bible together over the phone on Saturday mornings.

Tara writes,

I especially loved the story of (Jesus and) Lazarus. Unlike the Eastern philosophies that maintain that suffering is the result of our attachments, this story was about a man who was unashamedly attached. A man who behaved as though death was not natural. As though everything was broken, and that the sane response was to snort and weep. I loved that man.

After months of reading the Bible, Tara had to admit what she had fought so long to resist: She was hungry for Jesus. For the Jesus who hung out with whores, who wept when his friend died, and who claimed to be the Way, the Truth, and the Life. She said, “All of my searching for something in which to place my faith … led me to God who offered me himself in the form of Jesus. I didn’t have to find him or explain him; I just had to say yes.”

After that, Tara returned to school to study childhood bereavement. She married a wonderful man, and they had two beautiful sons. After getting married, she facilitated a support group for surviving parents whose spouse had died, and taught a class at Harvard on bereavement. She often found herself the repository for stories of loss, told in lowered voices at parties and grocery stores.

She says,

I try to listen deeply as people share those stories, nodding in agreement with how awful it is. I bear their story and, in so doing, remind them that they are not alone. These days when I sit with the broken and mourning, I pray for God’s love to do what I cannot: to bind up the wounded places, leaving their scars to bear witness of the power of both loss and love.

Eden Chen was a teenage shoplifter and competitive gamer. Then he found purpose beyond possessions in Christ. He shares his story in CT magazine:

Growing up, I was something of a nomad. I spent the first years of my life in the suburbs of Washington, DC. Then, at age six, I moved to Hong Kong, where I remained until the third grade before moving back to Maryland.

My parents raised my brother and me in the church. By the time we returned from Hong Kong, both of us had stopped going. I was obsessed with four things: video games, sports, material things, and chasing women. But I really excelled with the video game controller in my hand. At one point, I was one of the top 10 Warcraft 3 players in the United States.

Meanwhile, I had begun regularly shoplifting at the mall. On a weekly basis, my friends and I would compete to see who could walk out of the mall with the highest dollar value of stolen goods. Thankfully, God wouldn’t let me drift too far down this dangerous road.

At age 16, I began attending church again. I had always believed that God existed. From my perspective, it seemed likelier that nature and human creativity resulted from creation, rather than random chance. Still, for all my curiosity, I wasn’t eager to hear the answer. I knew well enough that discovering a righteous God could interrupt my preferred lifestyle of pursuing pleasure and doing as I pleased.

Then my youth pastor invited me on a mission trip to a rougher part of Nashville, Tennessee. During that trip, I met missionaries who helped reignite my search for God. They had lived in the inner-city projects and materially speaking they had next to nothing. But they were the most joyful people I had ever met. I had always assumed that more riches and possessions led to greater joy, but these missionaries were debunking that theory.

After returning home, I embarked on an all-encompassing search for God. I studied the major world religions—Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, and Christianity. I figured that if God was real, then he would probably make himself known. I read C. S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity, the most logical expression of faith that I had encountered. All of a sudden, it struck me that running away from Christianity would require more faith than running toward it. I felt that the gospel o­ffered the most compelling answers to life’s most important questions: Where does all of the good in the world come from? Where does all the evil in the world come from? How do I deal with personal guilt over the way I have lived my life?

The gospel presents a fascinating solution. In the instant someone accepts that they are a sinner and that Jesus is Lord, they are made righteous not because of what they have, but because of what Jesus did on the Cross. That was the most simple and complete solution to the problem of how God can punish sin without crippling sinners—that is, all of us—with guilt and condemnation.

Editor’s Note: Today, Chen heads up a creative agency called Fishermen Labs. They make virtual- and augmented-reality experiences, and emerging technology for startups and Fortune 100 companies. They hope to emulate the 12 fishermen that Jesus called to follow him—the most influential band of misfits in the history of the world.