What is Love? Baby, Please Herd Me!

There are scriptures I memorized when I was a Christian toddler that have played on a loop in my mind at various times throughout my life. And though they have served to comfort as intended, I am now discovering that there is so much more beneath the surface. This insatiable desire to get to know my Jesus has me diving deeper and finding so much more than comfort in the red letters. Psalm 23 is one such passage. I’ve read and recited this passage so many times and yet, it’s only now begun to take root. What if I was actually a ewe? Isn’t that basically what this is about? I’ve always envisioned myself following the shepherd who leads me here and there, but never actually pictured myself as a sheep. After all, doesn’t the world we currently live in dictate that it is not a good thing to be a sheep? To be a sheep in this day and age carries with it negative connotations, to say the least. The memes are a plenty! Aren’t we to lead and not follow? Blaze our own trail? Go off the beaten path? Let’s explore, shall we?

What does it mean to be a sheep - to live the life of a follower, part of a whole, one in many? Sheep are quite sensitive. I’ll begin there. The tiniest thing can cause an onset of fear and panic or at the very least, discomfort and unrest. If a sheep is afflicted with pests, she will torment herself until relief comes. If she is hungry, she cannot rest until she is fed. If something spooks her, she will find herself unable to eat or sleep. If there is any sort of conflict within the herd, again, she will not feed or rest. Her physical well-being and livelihood are directly tied to her mental health. And therein the shepherd finds his purpose. He is charged with maintaining the health and wellness of the entire group by meeting every need of the individual members. If one is lost, all will suffer. If one is fearful, sick or hungry, all will feel the disease. The parts are never greater than the whole. If a piece is missing, the whole tower crumbles. Enter the great shepherd…Jesus. He seeks out the hungry and feeds her from His hand. He restores her health, removes her afflictions and soothes her worried soul so that she might rest easy. He makes her to lie down in green pastures and leads her beside the still waters. He resolves the conflict within the group and unites them again so that they might thrive together. His rod and His staff comforts.

A cast sheep is one that has fallen over and cannot right herself. She can lose blood circulation quickly and die as a result. She is susceptible to attack in this position and is helpless and powerless to save herself. The shepherd must find her, right her and restore her to health. Enter the great shepherd. When her legs are simply too short and her mental resolve does not match the physical, swiftly He comes to save the day. Even though she walks through the valley of the shadow of death, she shall fear no evil, for He is with her. He gently lifts her and sets her back on her feet, firmly planted and joined again with her flock.

There is one thing about the shepherd that sings sweetly to my soul. Every good shepherd is relentless and tireless in his pursuit of his sheep, every last one. He will not rest until he is certain all are within his grasp. As a wandering, lost sheep myself, it is not lost on me how determined He is to find me and bring me back to the flock. His watchful eye sees every step I take down paths that lead to destruction and every fleeting glance toward treasures that will one day rust. It is green pastures He desires for me, not withering, dry fields. It is still waters to which He leads me, not rushing rivers that cannot quench my thirst. And how He rejoices when He finds the one and carries her home on His shoulders! Ninety-nine will never be enough for Him and this prodigal’s daughter could not be more grateful.

So I ask myself, “Why then, is it such a bad thing to be a sheep?” In recognizing that I am merely a part of the whole, a member of a family that does not flourish unless we are all on the same page, a united front, a river flowing in one direction, I am acknowledging that I am ineffective and finite on my own. My ability to thrive is tied directly to the unity of my flock. It is considered laughable to be a sheep today. It is thought to be a sign of weakness, an inability to think for oneself, or worse, challenge authority. There might be a bit of truth to that reality, but I guess the question then becomes, “Which authority am I challenging?” If it be my shepherd, that’s a hard pass for me. A sheep I will forever be! Because if being a sheep means I get to follow a shepherd to greener pastures and still waters, want for nothing, and have my soul restored each time I wander, throw me in a field and call me Dolly! It is actually a well-developed skill sheep have mastered to ensure their survival. They have come to an enlightened understanding that they are stronger together and more likely to thrive when they remain united rather than seeking independence. Fancy that! Oh, that we could learn from the herd. Let the record show that though there be hundreds of thousands of wolves intent on devouring sheep daily and nightly, still they greatly outnumber the wolves. The shepherd is so faithful to tend to His flock. Make no mistake, they are His and He will uplift them for all eternity.

**Sidenote: I would argue that the goal of the greater good should be to affirm and appease the souls of all members, which may mean NOT reaching a collective agreement on a course of action, but rather, addressing the need for compassion and taming the anxiety within each of us. We need to be heard, not right. We need to be affirmed, not shamed. We need to be validated in our concerns, not dismissed. And we need to be cared for, not discarded. And when it comes to the course of action, we need only to defer to the shepherd for direction.

Get off the throne, Goldilocks! It wasn't meant for you.

I sat down to write today for the first time in a very long time and I simply could not find the words…no, not one. I felt dejected in the best way possible, because the spirit interjected, a divine revelation quickly settled in and the words began to flow. Who am I to believe that I have anything more valuable to add to the conversation than the stranger sitting next to me at the DMV? Or the nurse at the end of the street? Or even the pastor at my church? Who do I think I am that I am privy to knowledge others are not? Why do I believe my opinion matters more, my insight will change minds and firmly held lifelong beliefs, that the information and data (science, if you will) that I have collected is somehow more accurate than that of the fifth ‘friend’ down my feed? How woefully presumptuous of me!

Insert here a vision of Job issuing a gleeful high five and a note of encouragement. “Girl, welcome to my world. Read my book!” And so I did, but I skipped past all the tough stuff that I struggle to digest to this day (no, I am not omitting context) and landed right smack at the end of story. And the Lord spoke (to us all, like it or not - at least those of you reading).

2“Who is this who darkens counsel by words without knowledge?
4-5Where were you when I laid the foundations of the Earth…Who determined its measurements?
8-9Or who shut in the sea with doors when it burst forth and issued from the womb; When I made the clouds its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band?
12Have you commanded the morning since your days began, and caused the dawn to know its place?
17Have the gates of death been revealed to you? Or have you seen the doors of the shadow of death?
39-41Can you hunt the prey for the lion, or satisfy the appetite of the young lions, when they crouch in their dens, or lurk in their lairs to lie in wait? Who provides food for the raven, when its young ones cry to God, and wander about for lack of food?”

Well, shoot! I can’t do any of those things. So maybe I don’t actually have all the answers or even some of them and frankly, not even one on most occasions. So perhaps I should leave well enough alone for the moment and recognize that we aren’t all meant to be teachers. Of course, we are entitled to our opinions, but we would do well to remember that they are just that and are typically shaped by worldview, life experience, occasionally nature and quite often, nurture. And others have opinions shaped by the very same things, but often land at a very different place. We’ve rolled the same dice and both passed go, but I’m paying luxury tax and my friend is sitting pretty on Park Place. And so I am learning these turbulent days that silence sometimes speaks louder than any words I can string together, any diatribe I feel compelled to deliver, and certainly any entitlement I might feel in the presence of others. And I believe this is where my story begins and ends. Entitlement. It seems to mark this current age - this generation - and truth be told, I am entitled to one thing only. I am entitled as the daughter of a King to point others in His direction, to ensure that my words, every last one of them, are His words, the Sword of the Spirit, unpolluted and devoid of spin and commentary. As Robert Murray M’Cheyne implores, “It is God’s Word, not man’s comment upon God’s Word that saves souls.”

Spurgeon adds, “If ever we have a conversion at any time, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the conversion is rather traceable to the text, or to some Scripture quoted in the sermon, than to any trite or original saying by the preacher…therefore let us bring everything to the touchstone.”

The Bible. My touchstone. Thee touchstone. Am I bringing all things to it at every moment? My frustration? Doubts? Lingering questions? My brokenness? My wounds and scars? Successes and failures? Friends, neighbors and even enemies? Am I bringing them all to the touchstone where true healing is found and real progress is made? The sad reality is that no one is changing minds at this point, not those of others and certainly not our own. So why are we still trying? The divide is growing wider. The abyss, deeper. And the anger, increasingly more palpable. And my Jesus cuts through the chaos and gently whispers these words of encouragement.

Am I a peacemaker or a right-fighter? Am I justified in my opinion and beliefs or in Christ alone? If my truth claims lie solely in the Word of God, as they should, am I still a factor in the equation or is He - rightly - the alpha, omega, and everything in between? I fancy it a heart issue, as usual. Do I believe Him enough to remove myself from the equation and confidently assert that His ways are higher or am I holding on to a fraction of pride and seeking validation for my myself?

If you force a child to give his toy to another and he might (begrudgingly) give it, but he might not actually believe the child is deserving of it. He might still believe he is the rightful owner and more entitled to it. A toddler through and through, I might give God the glory for my accomplishments and successes, but do I really believe He is deserving of it? Am I going through the motions or has this Goldilocks truly abandoned her claims to a throne and crown that will never fit quite right because it was never intended for me in the first place? Have I fully surrendered mind, body, heart and soul to His authority?

And so my prayer is that the piece of me that still desires to be acknowledged, proven right and worse, praised and esteemed for my beliefs is cut out and thrown into the refiner’s fire where it rightly belongs. I believe we all want to be the one with the answer - the solution - to all of life’s problems, or at the very least, those on Capitol Hill, the media stage, or our local megachurch (the likes of which are surprisingly comparable). We want to be privy to a secret others are not, but the reality is that we are all privy to the same (not-so-secret) secret. Wait for it! Hold on to your granny panties, here it comes! He loves us all equally and gives us all the same answers before, during and after the test. Hit the books, friends. It’s right there in the Dewey Decimals between 200 and 299 (the Bible).

A side note to consider. I believe our most miserable of failures in navigating this present darkness lies in our willingness to allow the enemy a seat at the table of every conversation. We are asking the wrong questions, arguing moot points and allowing pride to gain a foothold. It looks similar to this:

Is gender reassignment wrong?
Yes
No
It’s a personal decision made by an individual, not society as a whole

While we plead our case over the correct answer and even justify it with biblical references, the devil is distracting us from the real issue. Our identities are found in Christ alone. Make no mistake, the enemy will stop at nothing to fill quiet spaces with dissension and unrest, anger and pride, sin and shame. Will we let him or will we exercise our right to free speech and let that speech be colored with love and truth, beauty and humility, promise and hope, grace and peace - nothing more and nothing less than the Word of God?!

I digress to the Godfather. “The Godfather is the sum of all wisdom. The Godfather is the answer to any question. What should I pack for my summer vacation? Leave the gun, take the cannoli. What day of the week is it? Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday. And the answer to your question is, go to the mattresses. You’re at war. It's not personal, it's business.” I’d like to confidently assert that the Godfather is not the sum of all wisdom. Indeed, it is God, the Father. And a small tweak on this ridiculous comparison that is probably amusing no one but myself, it actually IS personal with God. It is ALWAYS personal, because He has an interest in you that others do not. He is madly and passionately invested in your future and He is unabashedly pursuing your soul for all eternity.

I cannot do any of these things, but I know someone who can, the creator of them all, the author and perfecter of my faith. He has penned a story that simply does not disappoint, intriguing, moving and impassioned, rich in authenticity and bursting with humanity. I strongly urge you to read the book. The ending is so good!