"Nothing He'd Rather Be Doing"
#92-42Presented on The Lutheran Hour on June 15, 2025
By Rev. Dr. Michael Zeigler, Lutheran Hour Speaker
Copyright 2025 Lutheran Hour Ministries
Reflections
Text: Psalm 8:4
Gilbert tells a story about a stray dog his family took in, years back, when they still lived in Africa, in Tanzania. When they found the dog, they were living in the city of Dar es Salaam, the largest city in Tanzania, known for its busy streets and bustling marketplaces. Gilbert and his family were walking back home from one of those markets one evening when they stumbled upon the stray. He was huddled under a baobab tree, his fur matted and dirty. His eyes were a mix of fear and curiosity.
Gilbert's son stepped forward and offered the mutt a piece of his chapati bread. For a moment, it wasn't certain whether the animal would bite the boy or take the gift. The dog approached, cautiously, took the piece of flatbread, and wagged his tail ever so slightly.
They named him Simba. "You mean, like after The Lion King movie?" I asked Gilbert. "Yes, and no," he told me. Gilbert explained that Simba means "lion" in Swahili, the national language of Tanzania. They chose the name, not so much for the movie, but because the dog had a regal presence about him and looked like a little lion.
Once Simba the dog adjusted to life with Gilbert's family, they noticed he was no ordinary stray. Now that he had a pack again, he took to navigating the streets of Dar es Salaam like a duck to water. His breed was mixed, but he behaved like he was bred for this. He was always a bit restless when stuck in the house. But out on the streets, out on patrol—that was all he wanted.
One night, Gilbert's family was getting ready for bed, and they hear Simba barking at the front door. Barking, barking. Gilbert tried to quiet him. But something had gotten into the animal—the dog wouldn't quit. So, Gilbert opens the door, and out darts the dog into the night. Curious, they follow him—jogging across streets, jaunting through alleyways, zigzagging through an open-air market that was winding down for the night, until they come to a small boy sitting alone in a secluded spot, holding his knees to his chest, head down, crying. Simba trotted over and nuzzled him gently.
Later, after they were able to reunite the boy with his family, Gilbert learned the backstory. The mom and dad had been at the market, shopping earlier that day, when their five-year-son had wandered away and got lost in the crowd. When Simba found him, they'd been searching for the boy for five or six hours already. And so, that night, Simba, with his keen tracking skills, became something of a local hero, known for his uncanny knack of reuniting lost things and lost people.
A few months later, Gilbert's son was giving Simba a bath, and something odd caught his eye. The dog had been wearing a worn-out weathered collar when they'd found him, but until then no one had noticed the faint engraving, a sign of an old calling. Gilbert's son carefully held up the tag to the light and examined it. He could just make out the lettering. It said, "Dar es Salaam Police K-9." Intrigued, Gilbert did some research. He confirmed it—that Simba had been a police dog, trained in search-and-rescue missions. Apparently, there'd been some undercover operation in another part of the city, but plans had gone awry, and the dog got separated from his team. Dar es Salaam is a city of several million people, and Simba got lost in the confusion. And, incidentally, at that time Tanzania was transferring its capital from Dar es Salaam to another city 300 miles west, and the K-9 unit was transferred along with it. And the dog had been written off, missing in action, making his separation final and irrevocable. And so, you might say that Simba had developed a special affinity for the lost.
Have you ever felt lost? Lost, like how Lorraine our family friend felt when she lost her husband to dementia; or Joe, when he lost his wife to divorce; or Danielle, when she lost her baby after the miscarriage; or Carlos, when he lost his grandson in a tragedy. Julie lost her home in a fire. Gentil lost his in a war. Courtney lost a friend through a misunderstanding. Jim lost his job in a downsizing. Carolyn lost her mobility in a bad fall. Brian lost his in a bad decision.
Those are people I know who've experienced loss and have felt lost, people I've sat with, talked with, prayed with. I can still see their faces. I can hear their voices. And, although not completely, on some level I can relate to how they were feeling. You probably can, too.
Sometimes the feeling comes suddenly, when our plans go awry. Sometimes, gradually—as the years wear on, and you go through the motions. People move on. What used to get you moving, doesn't anymore. You wonder, "Who am I? Why am I here?" In the human experience, lostness is as common as strays on the streets of Dar es Salaam.
That feeling, that question, "Who am I? What am I?"—it's captured in a line in a 3,000-year-old poem, in a psalm from the Bible, Psalm 8. The author, a man named David, wonders, "What is man? Who is he? Why does he matter?"
David had been a shepherd. Maybe the question came to him one night, out in the field with the sheep. He looks up into the canopy of the starry heavens above him, twinkling lights that seem to go on forever in every direction, as far as he can see. And he feels small, insignificant, forgotten, lost in all the vastness of space. He feels lost. But then he also recalls the account of Who put him here. He remembers why he's here. See, David is a worshiper of God—the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. David's people were heirs of a great promise from God, of an old calling, lost, but not forgotten. David recalls the account recorded in the Bible's first book—in Genesis—how God created and called His people, all people. The voice of the One who called them was also the voice that had created everything. Simply by speaking, God filled the earth the seas and the heavens with creatures great and small, innumerable. Then, amid that vast army of creatures, God created and called one set to something special, set apart—the first set of humans. God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them. Husband and wife, God created them to be His reflection, a living picture of Him, so that they could partner with God to care for His creation, so that they could be one flesh and have babies—and make more humans and extend God's care for the world.
And David, lost in all the wonder of it all, he opens his mouth and speaks these words, words that move from praise, to wonder, and then back to praise again, as it's recorded in Psalm 8:
O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is Your Name in all the earth—You have set Your majesty above the heavens. Out of the mouths of babes and nursing infants You have established strength on account of Your enemies, to silence the enemy and the aggressor. Whenever I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have set in place—what is man that You remember him, the son of man that You visit him? You have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings, a little bit lacking from God. You have crowned him with glory and honor. You have made him to have dominion over the works of Your hands. You have put everything under his feet—sheep, cattle, even the beasts of the field, and the birds of the heavens, and the fish of the sea that pass along the paths of the sea. O LORD, our Lord, our Master, how majestic is Your Name in all the earth."
Psalm 8 sets our sense of lostness in the larger account of God's greatness. God has a place for us, each of us on His team, because He wants partners in his creative operation.
We learn later in the account of the Bible that God is not a solitary Being, but communal in the fullest sense: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. God is a God of community and conversation, team-orientated from eternity. God creates and delights to share His operations with us, His creatures.
Although, somewhere along the way, we got lost. We got separated from the team. It wasn't like with Simba the dog; we weren't simply caught in the crossfire of a mission gone awry. That's part of the truth, but it's not the whole truth. It's part of the truth, because the Bible says that we did go missing in action, in a sense. We were casualties of a war, because there is a spiritual rebel out there older than us; stronger, more cunning than us: the devil. He broke up the team. And he did it, not by force, but by words. He persuaded us, he got us to believe, and still gets us to believe that we can all be our own top dog, that we don't need a Master. And we believed it. We believed the lie. That's how we got lost. And getting lost changed us. Like that stray dog Gilbert's family brought home. The animal was fearful and distrustful. He'd suffered badly on the streets alone, and it changed him for the worse.
And in similar terms, but more severe terms, the Bible describes the distortion human nature has suffered. We were created and called to be God's partners, but we've since become God's enemies. That ideal held up in Psalm 8—that humans are created to be God's wise and honorable partners in caring for His creation—that ideal shows how far we've fallen, how much we've gotten lost. But there, in the middle of the psalm, there is a faint inscription, like an overlooked engraving on the collar of a stray. It's a sign of God's affinity for lost things and lost people. It's this phrase, the "son of man." Who is the son of man that God cares for him?—Psalm 8 asks in verse 4. The "Son of Man" is the title Jesus of Nazareth used most frequently to refer to Himself. Jesus said of Himself: "Everything written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished." He said, "The Son of Man is going to come with His angels in the glory of His Father." He said, "The Son of Man must suffer and be rejected." He said, "The Son of Man came, not to be served, but to serve and give His life as a ransom for many." He said, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified." He said, "The Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins." He said, "The Son of Man came to seek and save the lost."
Eighty times, Jesus calls Himself "the Son of Man." And among other Old Testament passages, we can surmise that He had Psalm 8 in mind, and the New Testament Book of Hebrews confirms it. Hebrews 2 explains how Jesus fulfills the promise of Psalm 8. Hebrews says that Jesus is the eternal Son of God, that God the Father created the world through His Son, that the Son is the radiance and glory of God the Father, the exact imprint of His nature, who upholds the universe by the word of His power. And then, to save us, God's Son was made man, a "Son of Man." He was made to be "lower than the angels"—lower than God, according to His human nature. Why? "So that by the grace of God He might taste death for everyone," Hebrews 2:9 says. In other words, in Jesus' suffering and death on the cross, He embraced us in our lostness. He tracked us down. He suffered the consequences of our sin—separation from God—and He died for us. And then He rose again from the dead. He proved that our separation is not irrevocable. God's promise is not forgotten. Our calling is not lost. Jesus is alive, and He lives to dispel the disorientation. And now, because of everything He's been through, we can say for certain that Jesus—being both God and Man, that Jesus, crucified and risen, Jesus, once abandoned to death, but now found forever, Jesus has an even more profound affinity for the lost.
Not only does He know exactly how you feel, not only does He know what it's like to be where you are, He's been there. And He has the street smarts to find you. He has the wisdom to be your Lord and your Master, to make you into what you were made to be.
And today, He has found you again with His Word, wherever you are. Whatever you've been through, whatever you're going through, right now, He is calling you up again, bringing you home, nourishing you, nurturing you, rehabilitating you. By faith, He's reinstating you to be on His elite team. He is reenlisting you in the mission that He had planned for us from the beginning. And it's even bigger than search and rescue. It includes that, because seeking the lost is a crucial part of the mission, because Jesus doesn't want anyone to be lost. But there is an older mission, an engraving on our collar that goes back farther and deeper. It's the ongoing calling to care for God's creation and God's creatures. Not just finding the lost, but making a home for them, and with them.
That's what God did for you and me. That's what He will do when Jesus comes again to raise you from the dead and to renew all things. And until then, He will go on calling you and finding you and tracking you down and caring for you, because there's nothing He'd rather be doing.
I heard Gilbert's story about Simba the dog when he shared it with a group of fellow pastors in training that I was blessed to work with this last spring. As I mentioned, Gilbert was born and raised in Tanzania. He worked there as a civil engineer, and then for over 20 years as a project manager working for a U.S. government agency based in Tanzania. Then, in 2018 he and his family had the opportunity to emigrate to the United States, in Virginia near Washington D.C. There, he worked a few more years in that capacity as his family got resettled in their new home. And then, just as he was reaching retirement age, Gilbert sensed God calling him to serve in another field. Over the years, he'd taken various roles as a spiritual leader, as a layman in the church, both in Tanzania and in the United States. But now there was a need for a bi-vocational pastor in his local congregation. And so, with the encouragement of his family and others in his church, he enrolled in this distance-learning seminary education program, which is how I met him, and was blessed to be one of his instructors.
Gilbert has seen a lot over the years, from the streets of Dar es Salaam to the beltway of D.C. He may be old enough to retire, but he says there is nothing he'd rather be doing—serving God's people, seeking the lost in the Name of Jesus, praying with them, reminding them who they are, and why they're here. "Endless possibilities ... unfold," Gilbert said, "when we say yes to the call of God."
I asked Gilbert, whatever happened to Simba the dog? He says Simba stayed with his family for ten years after they rescued him, that he especially loved children, and truly became part of their family. But he was never quite content to be the lapdog. He was always a work dog. Simba wasn't able to make the trip to the U.S., so another family in Tanzania adopted him. Last Gilbert heard, Simba was still wearing his old police-dog collar, patrolling the streets of Dar es Salaam, as though there were nothing he'd rather be doing.
In the Name of Jesus. Amen.
Reflections for June 15, 2025
Title: Spanish-language ministry
Mark Eischer: You're listening to The Lutheran Hour. For FREE online resources, archived audio, and more, go to lutheranhour.org. Once again, here is Dr. Zeigler.
Mike Zeigler: Thank you, Mark. Today I'm visiting with Pastor German Novelli, our co-worker here at Lutheran Hour Ministries, director of the Hispanic ministry, speaker of our Spanish- language program, Para El Camino. Welcome, Pastor Novelli!
German Novelli: Hi, Mike. Thank you for inviting me. I'm very happy to be here with you.
Mike Zeigler: What have you learned so far about the opportunities and the challenges that this new calling present to you?
German Novelli: Yeah, my first day working here at Lutheran Hour Ministries, after all the introductions, all the orientation, I remember going back home or the place where I was staying, and I said, "Oh my goodness, what I have done?" because I said this is completely different to the church context or the parish context.
I have learned so many things from people or congregations in Mexico, listening to my sermons and using my sermons for Bible studies for children, or being able to provide resources to congregations here in the United States and beyond. So those are wonderful opportunities, especially when you realize the impact of our ministry here from The Lutheran Hour, when you know the impact you are having, the thousands of people that are listening to you every week, all the lives that are now being transformed in the power of the Spirit of God. You say, "Wow! It's wonderful." Challenges, especially adjusting to a new role, learning a lot of things. I always say that I'm blessed because I'm coming to continue the work that was beautifully done by the people that were before me in this role. And also I'm coming to a great team. LHM is a beautiful family, and I'm trying my best to learn from each person I meet along the way because this is a wonderful team, and that's something I'm grateful for.
Mike Zeigler: So there's this great need for Spanish-language ministry resources that are sound, that keep Christ at the center, that teach the Bible. I'd heard a statistic that it's something like four out of ten elementary school students in the United States are Spanish speakers. As we look forward to the future, there's going to be even a greater need for good Spanish-language ministry resources.
German Novelli: Yeah, they say that there are about 65 million Spanish-speaking people living in the United States. There are more people that speak Spanish here in the United States than in Spain. So that shows you the importance of the ministry you are doing and all the audience. Because, of course, when we see the numbers, we [just] see numbers. But when you transform those numbers in lives, in needs, in challenges, in opportunities, everything changes. And then you say, "Hey, let me bring the Gospel to all these people, and let us do it. Let us do it together."
Mike Zeigler: What have you learned about some of the needs of the people that you're seeking to serve and reach out to through our Spanish-language programs at Lutheran Hour Ministries?
German Novelli: Yeah. I think that we live in a world these days where people are walking in darkness. There's a lot of hatred messages or fake messages out there. The devil is at work all the time. And also there are a lot of challenges in people's life. People are starving. They're thirsty for the Gospel. And we need to keep that in mind every morning when we wake up and we start a new day, we have to remember to pray for them and then do our best to serve them. Even though we don't know their names; we might not see their faces; we don't know their stories; we know that they need Jesus, and bringing Jesus to them is what we do here.
Mike Zeigler: So you talked about the darkness and the work of the devil. This is a little, well, what you're going to be speaking of next week is our guest speaker for The Lutheran Hour, a passage from the Gospels and how Jesus confronts the power of the darkness and the devil. What's something that the listener could do to prepare their heart or mind to receive this message?
German Novelli: Well, the first thing is not to fix your eyes on the devil. Fix your eyes on the One who defeats the devil and cares for us.
Mike Zeigler: That's good. Yeah. If you think of you're riding a bike, you don't look at the thing you don't want to hit, look at the thing you want to go around, look at the pathway, not at the obstacle. It's a good piece of advice. Well, thank you for joining us, and we look forward to hearing your message next week.
German Novelli: Thank you, Mike. Have a great day, and thank you everybody. And yes, I look forward to meet you again next week.
Music Selections for this program:
"A Mighty Fortress" arr. Peter Prochnow. Used by permission.
"Crucifer" by Sydney H. Nicholson, arr. Peter Prochnow. Used by permission.
"Come, Holy Ghost, Creator Blest" From The Concordia Organist (© 2009 Concordia Publishing House) Used by permission.
