Saturday of the 2nd Week of Lent
Mic 7:14-15,18-20
Lk 15:1-3,11-32
“He was lost and is found.”
How do we manage people’s reactions when we get ‘lost’?
Not simply those who are geographically lost. Like flying to Austria instead of Australia. Or confusing Marina Bay MRT station with Bayfront MRT station to get to Marina Bay Sands.
But existentially lost.
When I read the parable of the Prodigal Son, I used to contemplate the younger son’s recklessness and dramatic return.
This time, I found myself thinking about the many kinds of ‘lost’ in Singapore today. People who have been incarcerated. People who have gone through abortion, divorce, or lost their loved ones. People battling addictions. Young adults who haven’t achieved what society defines as ‘success’. People who don’t meet their parents’ expectations.
Recently, I was watching a YouTube video by the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Singapore, of a former sex addict speaking about his journey of redemption. I admired his courage, and he gave a truly vulnerable testimony. I also wondered — How did people react to him? Did everyone celebrate like the father in the gospel? Or were there people judging him quietly from a distance?
Because not everyone rejoices when someone returns home.
And that hits close to home for me.
Several years ago, I graduated with a law degree from a local university. In Singapore, that usually comes with a clear script: practise law, climb the ladder, become ‘successful’. However, my journey didn’t follow that path immediately. I worked in journalism. I worked in marketing. I explored spaces that were not ‘law-adjacent’.
Again and again, I was asked by my colleagues and employers. “Why didn’t you do law? You’re overqualified. You don’t fit here.”
I was hurt. I felt unseen. Whether I did well in the job was irrelevant. It was as if my entire identity was reduced to a certificate. As if the ‘right’ path had already been decided for me, so deviating from it meant I was on the ‘wrong’ path.
Yet, over time, something shifted.
In the Gospel, the prodigal son prepares a speech: “Father, I have sinned… treat me as one of your paid servants.” He returns expecting to negotiate his worth. Instead, his father interrupts him. The father doesn’t downgrade him to servant status. He restores him as his son.
The son defines himself by failure. The father defines him by relationship.
I realise now that for a long time, I was trying to negotiate my worth with the world. Trying to explain my detours. Quietly, though, God was inviting me to trust that He could bring meaning even out of my detours.
Today, I am a legal counsel for a charity and start-ups. I’ve found a mission in supporting organisations and entrepreneurs, especially those who are underserved. I cannot say that I engineered this path by my own brilliance. God opened my eyes and doors to amazing opportunities.
Despite this role, I know that in some people’s eyes, I still haven’t been ‘found’, just because I’m not the conventional success story. Yet, perhaps being ‘found’ in the world’s eyes is not the same as being found in my Father’s house.
On the eve of International Women’s Day, we commemorate the feast day of Saints Perpetua and Felicity. Two young mothers. Two women who defied expectations. In a society that would have defined them by family roles and obedience to authority, they chose fidelity to Christ, even to the point of martyrdom. They were judged heavily. Misunderstood. Pleaded with to reconsider their loyalty. Despite the circumstances, our two dearest saints knew who they belonged to.
God’s mercy is so abundant that He restores everyone’s identity. He sees us beyond our mistakes; He sees us through our belonging.
The prodigal son belonged before he returned.
Saints Perpetua and Felicity belonged before they were martyred and honoured as saints.
The former addict belongs before the applause.
And we belong too, even when our paths look unconventional.
This Lent, let us slowly rediscover the meaning of being ‘lost and found’. That being ‘lost’ is not always about moral failure. Sometimes, it is about walking through seasons that do not make sense to others. Sometimes, it is about being misunderstood. The good news is that God does not wait at the door with a performance review. He runs towards us with open arms. And our task is simply to return home to Him.
Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam.
(Today’s OXYGEN by Brenda Khoo)
Prayer: Father of mercy, when we feel lost, misunderstood, or measured by the world’s standards, remind us that we belong to You. Give us the courage to return to You and the grace to trust in Your unfailing love. Amen.
Thanksgiving: Lord, we thank You for never defining us by our achievements or failures. Thank You for always restoring our dignity and identity as Your sons and daughters. Thank You for always walking with us, even when the journey feels uncertain. Amen.
OXYGEN 
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