Finder of Lost Things

a meditation on Saint Anthony of Padua

Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash

Have you ever prayed for divine help to find something you’ve lost?

Those with a working knowledge of the saints may have noticed a connection between our theme this week and a certain famous saint’s feast day, who is considered the “patron saint of lost things”: Saint Anthony of Padua.

The story goes that Anthony, a priest, once had his psalter—a personal book of psalms—stolen by a monk who had chosen to leave the monastic life. Psalters in those days were handmade and handwritten, and therefore impossible to replace. Upon discovering that the book was missing, Anthony prayed for it to be returned, and at that very moment the thief repented, returned at once to give Anthony back his psalter, and also decided to rejoin the monastery.

Ever since—despite his reputation for great theological knowledge, devotion to God, and deep generosity—this tale is what he is most known for. And since his canonization, those who pray to the saints invoke Saint Anthony’s help whenever they’re searching for something they’ve misplaced.

Now, I was raised and remain a Protestant, albeit one with slightly wiggly boundaries (you can read more on that here), so praying to saints isn’t in my personal practice. But I understand the appeal in the case of Saint Anthony, and here’s why.

When we lose something, the maddening thing is that we know it hasn’t vanished into thin air. That would be impossible. It’s somewhere. But we’ve also all had experiences where something is lost for good. That cup of coffee you left on the roof of your car before you drove off in an uncaffeinated haze. That earring that slipped from your ear when you weren’t paying attention. That piece of paper that you set in a pile…and then moved the pile into the recycling bin.

Praying to a saint—or to God, for that matter—when you lose something is making a confession: I know this is a little thing, but it matters to me. There’s an implicit apology there, as if it isn’t worth sacred time. If you have a second, would you mind…?

But the beautiful thing is that we have a God who cares about the small things. The missing keys. The missing ring. The missing check. The missing sock. The small realities of our incarnational lives are precious to Him because they are precious to us.

And this goes for the invisible things that we feel we’ve lost, too, like the virtues we wish we had cultivated, the memories we’ve misplaced, the relationships that have lapsed. These are lost, but not gone. I know this is a little thing, but it matters to me.

So pray, as you search. There is no harm.

At worst, you’ll grow closer to the One you’re speaking to.

And at best, you’ll find what you’re looking for.

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Just for fun, please enjoy this little poem I included in last year’s June ebook. It’s a bit silly, but perhaps a bit resonant, too.

The Finder of Lost Things

raised staunchly protestant
I do not believe
in calling upon the saints
for help;

however

the matter at hand
is my missing keys,
and I’m getting desperate;

as I shift papers
search jacket pockets
slide my hand
between couch cushions
I find myself whispering:

Saint Anthony
pray for me.

and when the discovery is made—
keys in my other handbag—

I thank God first
(for the inspiration)
and the saint second
(for the favor.)  

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