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!