COUNTING SHEEP

WHILE LISTENING to the sermon this past Sunday morning, I realized that while it is easy for me to think of God as a shepherd, it is very difficult for me to think of myself as a sheep.

THE ONLY SHEEP I’VE EVER SEEN up close held no charms for me. Their lanolin burned my eyes. They seemed badly in need of a good combing. They made a sound that reminded me of a fussy child who couldn’t stop complaining long enough to eat her food.

SHEEP ARE NOT KNOWN for logical thinking or self-reliance, and I recently learned that even the urge to save themselves was bred out of them long ago. They stumble along unmindful of how dangerous their surroundings are or of where the rest of the flock may be gravitating.

EATING MACHINES busy growing wool. Definitely not something I want to identify with . . . and yet the comparison shows up in the Bible again and again. Not only am I referred to as a sheep, I am a beloved sheep. As if there could be much loveable about a sheep—lost or otherwise.

BUT IF I AM A SHEEP, I’m one of the worst. Often I’m not interested in anything but how my next need will be met. My sense of direction leads me toward trouble. I even forget I’m a member of a flock! To top it off, I frequently put a prideful thumb to my wooly chest and take personal credit for God’s gifts to me.

I CAN SEE HOW FROM GOD’S PERSPECTIVE “sheep” might be a kind description. Donkey might be more appropriate. Maybe I should start thanking him for taking on the Good Shepherd’s job . . . before I graze myself off a cliff.

You’re blessed. Be a blessing!

‘TIS THE SEASON OF EXPECTATIONS . . .

AGAIN I STRUGGLE with my lack of faith—and try not to be ashamed of myself. I’m in good company. Peter, Andrew, Thomas. Their “pre-resurrection” comments are rooted in the same vein of human confusion that I feel right now.

FOR MORE THAN FOUR YEARS I’ve been asking to be cancer free, and that prayer has not yet been answered. That is why today I find myself in danger of lowering my expectations. Part of me is weary of asking for something that doesn’t seem forthcoming.

I’M TEMPTED TO FORGET that I am beloved and worthy. I feel like saying, “Don’t bother Yourself, LORD. I know you’re too busy to fool with me,” even though that would make me wrong on two counts. God isn’t bound by the confines of time. And He’s promised again and again He would never ignore a genuine need.

OF COURSE, I’M GUILTY of the opposite extreme when I look for God to fulfill my unreasonable expectations. Like the teenager who explained to her father that she understood the difference between WANT and NEED. She NEEDED a new Mustang. She WANTED it to be red.

I KNOW GOD IS MORE INTERESTED in who I become than in fulfilling my wish list. And that is hard for me when my wish list is mostly health-related.

BUT, THEN I THINK OF THE TV AD I saw recently. Lance Armstrong’s strong facial features fill the screen. He’s thanking cancer for who he’s become. I’m not quite there, but I do see his point. I am a better person than I was when I was busy taking my health for granted.

SO, MAYBE I SHOULD SET ASIDE my concerns about whether or not my expectations of God are unreasonable—or whether or not I’ve lowered my expectations because of my unbelief.

MAYBE, INSTEAD, I should concentrate on God’s expectations of ME. Hmmm. Now that might be something to really be concerned about.

You’re blessed. Be a blessing!

THE GUINEA PIG PERSPECTIVE

TODAY AT CHURCH a friend told me with an angry quiver in her voice that she’d been turned down for a clinical trial only hours before treatment was to begin.

SHE TOLD ME, I think, because for the past four years I’ve had to seek treatment in the world of clinical trials myself. (Clinical trials are experimental therapies.) It didn’t seem the right time to tell her I’ve been turned down for as many trials as I’ve been accepted for. It’s not easy to get over the pain and the anxiety she seemed to be trying to control.

TRIAGE IS SIGNIFICANT in being accepted for a trial. The pharmaceutical company, which is usually the sponsor, and the scientists working for it direct the effort from afar. They review baseline test results and treat only those with the greatest promise of success.

IT’S ENOUGH TO MAKE the patient forget that God is in charge.

MOST OF THE TIME THE PHYSICIAN who is in charge of administering the trial first delivers the bad news and then proceeds to urge the patient to pursue treatment as quickly as possible. Being told the obvious is part of what infuriates the patient. Seeking treatment was why he’d signed up for the trial to begin with.

TO THE SPONSOR AND THE PHYSICIAN, it’s not personal. The sponsor, which is footing the bill, treats whom it can and leaves the rest to God. But to the person being left, it IS personal. He or she has wasted time—and no small amount of hopeful expectation—only to be sent away. Usually without further options. (Trial-oriented physicians aren’t usually as informed as those who are treatment-oriented.)

IT’S NATURAL FOR THE PATIENT to feel bitter. I know this from firsthand experience. But, as a Christian, I have to do better than this. Bitterness will do ME more harm than it will do the pharmaceutical company or the researchers. Besides, I’ve been left to God. Isn’t that the best place to be?

CONSIDER THIS. Something needs to be done about cancer—and these men and women are trying to do it. But, progress is slow. It’s a one-sided match with the researchers in the loser’s corner more often than not.

THESE PEOPLE ARE THE BEST AND THE BRIGHTEST, dedicated to finding a way to save lives. And every single day they meet the worst sort of defeat. Year after year . . . and this is their life’s work.

FRANKLY, I COULDN’T DO IT, but I’m grateful that they can. Perhaps they will come closer to removing the horror of this disease from our lives. I hope they keep trying. I intend to keep praying that they are successful, and I hope you will join me.

You’re blessed. Be a blessing!

DOUBTING WHO?

THE OLDER I GET THE MORE it seems I will never outgrow doubt. It is as much a part of me as my faith is. I wait to be surprised by God while I wonder if that surprise will ever come.

I SUPPOSE IT’S TO BE EXPECTED. I can’t see God. Just one little peek, and my doubts would be eliminated forever. But maybe not. Consider Ezekiel. He saw God.

OF COURSE, SHORTLY THEREAFTER EZEKIEL shaved his head and burned his hair; laid on his side; cooked his meals on a cow dung fire; and was struck mute. Hmmm. Maybe seeing God isn’t such a good idea. He seems dangerous. Maybe I’d be better off using my doubts to build my faith.

THESE ARE TRYING TIMES. I’m forced once again to contemplate my own mortality. I’m challenged by a new wave of tumors that are making themselves painfully present and forcing me to search a broad field for treatment options that I’d hoped to never have to do. I seem closer to a precipice than I like, and I’m thankful for the prayers of my friends whose kindness reminds me that I am not alone.

UNFORTUNATELY, IT ALSO REMINDS ME that none of us is in charge.

BUT IT’S OKAY. When I was younger, I demanded more of God. Like Job, I wanted answers. I’ve grown more comfortable with un-answers. The mystery seems appropriate. It’s beyond my understanding, and at some point I need to stop banging my head against the unknowable.

GOD HAS HAD PLENTY OF CHANCES to give me the answers to all those universally asked questions, but He hasn’t. Perhaps my knowing the answers doesn’t seem important to Him. To Him I must sound like that cranky three-year-old in her car seat asking Why about everything. Because I say so, is His answer. And believe me, I do not want Him to stop the car!

I MUST LEAVE BEHIND THE DOUBT that for me comes with loving a God I cannot see and try instead to prepare myself and my world for whatever treatment awaits me . . . wondering how I will be surprised by Him.

AND ALTHOUGH I MAY ALTERNATE between doubt and faith, I don’t have to be afraid. I’ve read how kind Jesus was to others who doubted like Peter, Thomas, the father of the epileptic boy, even Judas.

IF DOUBT IS A SIN, hopefully, it ranks low on His scale. I know that when I doubt I make myself miserable, and perhaps that is punishment enough.

You’re blessed. Be a blessing!