One Soul Matters

One Soul Matters

There’s something quietly radical about Luke 15. When Jesus tells these three stories—the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the prodigal son—it’s as if He’s handing us the very heartbeat of God. These aren’t just moral lessons or nice parables for Sunday school. They are invitations to understand the relentless, personal love of God, to see His value system, and to remember why every single person counts. It’s easy to get swept up in the idea of mass evangelism or big outreach numbers—and don’t get me wrong, those things have their place—but the real gospel pulses with a different rhythm: one soul is enough.

I want you to picture that first story with me. The shepherd who has a hundred sheep. Maybe you’ve seen flocks before—hundreds grazing peacefully on a hillside. When one wanders off, what do you think most shepherds would do? Maybe count the ninety-nine left, breathe a sigh of relief that most are safe, and go about their day. But Jesus says the shepherd leaves the ninety-nine in the open country and goes after the one until he finds it. The Greek word here is ἐξελθὼν (exelthōn), meaning “he goes out” — a deliberate, purposeful pursuit, not a casual stroll or half-hearted glance. It’s a commitment to search and find, even when it’s inconvenient or costly.

This is where I get stuck in wonder every time I read it. One sheep. That’s it. But not just the fact that the shepherd cares about the one—that’s beautiful in itself—but the fact that the shepherd puts everything else on hold to go find the lost one. There’s a risk in this. What if wolves are nearby? What if the other sheep scatter? Yet, the shepherd chooses to prioritize the single lost soul. Why? Because every single sheep is valuable. Every one is irreplaceable.

The Hebrew concept of נֶפֶשׁ (nephesh) helps us here. It’s often translated as “soul,” but it means so much more: life, a living being, a person with breath and worth. God’s heart beats for every nephesh that has wandered from His fold. When we understand that, we realize that the number isn’t the point. The point is the value of the one, the cost of the one, and the joy of the one found.

I think about how this applies to my own life. There have been times I felt lost—wandering off the path, unsure if I was worth chasing after. I was that lost sheep. I was that coin that slipped between the cracks. And I remember the relief, the overwhelming sense of being found and lifted up, carried back home. To know that God was searching for me, that He saw me even when I was far away, changes everything. It makes me want to be the shepherd, the woman searching, the one who celebrates when one soul is found.

That’s why this teaching is so personal. It’s not about statistics or big crowds. It’s about people. Just people. Just one at a time. Because to God, one soul is worth the entire search, the entire celebration, the entire story.

The woman with the lost coin in Luke 15:8–10 deepens this understanding. She has ten silver coins, and she loses one. Those coins weren’t just currency; they represented her security, her household’s stability, maybe even her dignity. Losing one was serious. But notice what she does: she lights a lamp, sweeps the entire house, and searches carefully until she finds it. The Greek word λαμπάδα (lampada) shows she’s illuminating the darkness, leaving no stone unturned, no corner overlooked. She’s not passive or resigned. She’s active and determined.

I love how Jesus emphasizes her joy when the coin is found—she calls her friends and neighbors to rejoice with her. The Aramaic word used to describe the joy in the next verse is חֲדוּתָא רַבְתָּא (ḥadutha rabbta), which means “great joy.” This is no small celebration; it’s a bursting joy. Heaven itself rejoices with the woman. And notice: she calls the community to share in that joy. The found coin, like the found sheep, is a communal treasure.

This reminds me of how often we can get discouraged in ministry or in our personal efforts to reach others. We might pray for someone for months or years and see no visible change. But what if our role is simply to light the lamp—to keep searching, keep sweeping the corners of their heart with love and grace? And what if the moment that coin is found, the whole heavenly realm celebrates?

One soul matters

Then Jesus tells the parable of the prodigal son, but honestly, the first two stories are enough for me to rest on for now. That shepherd and the woman—they show us the relentless pursuit of God and the immeasurable value of one lost nephesh. When I meditate on this, I think about how God’s love doesn’t treat people as statistics or problems to solve. He treats each one as a beloved treasure.

There’s a scientific parallel I find intriguing here, actually. Quantum entanglement (a mysterious connection that links things together no matter how far apart they are) teaches us that particles can be connected across distances in ways that transcend what we can see or measure. In a way, every lost soul is entangled with God’s heart, no matter how far away they seem. The Shepherd’s gaze reaches across every distance, every shadow, every broken place. And just like particles in entanglement affect one another regardless of distance, the spiritual connection God has with each nephesh is real and powerful.

So, when I hear people say, “Why bother with just one person? Why try to reach that one neighbor or that one coworker?” I want to yell back, “Because one soul is enough! One is worth the risk, the sacrifice, the time, and the prayer.”

Imagine if the shepherd had stopped looking after the ninety-ninth sheep. Imagine if the woman had given up after sweeping only a few corners. Our lives and stories could have been very different. But God’s love does not give up. His pursuit is active, intentional, and filled with joy.

I think of the Hebrew root חָזַק (ḥazaq) which means “to be strong, to hold fast.” God is strong enough to hold fast to every single soul, and He invites us to hold fast to the same. We might not see the results immediately. We might feel like the search is long and lonely. But if we keep going with the Shepherd’s heart—persistent, tender, rejoicing—we participate in the greatest story ever told.

At the end of Luke 15:7, Jesus says, “I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.” This isn’t just a statement about heaven’s celebration. It’s a reminder of where joy truly comes from: restoration, redemption, reconciliation.

In my own quiet moments, I’ve prayed for people who seem so far from God. Some days it feels like the lamp is flickering, the house too dark to find even one coin. But then I remember the shepherd, the woman, the joy, and the value of one. And I keep praying, keep loving, keep searching. Sometimes I never talk to that person, but I still pray for them.

It makes me want to live like every person I meet is the lost sheep or the lost coin—because maybe they are. And maybe today, through me or through a kind word or a prayer, that one nephesh finds its way home.

So if you ever feel overwhelmed or insignificant in your efforts, come back to this: God’s heart is for the one. The Shepherd will leave the ninety-nine to go after the one. The woman will light the lamp and sweep the house for the one coin. Heaven rejoices over that one soul. One soul is enough.

And that one soul? Maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s someone you know. Maybe it’s the one you’re praying for right now.