VOICES from THE WORD

A LOT OF WORK FOR JUST ONE

Voice of a Sheep Owner

. . . I should be out there looking for my lamb right now instead of merely daydreaming. A lion could be stalking it now for its dinner. Who knows what other dangers it could be in? Oh, I know it is just one lamb of the many that were born this spring. But, she is special! Sure, you tell me, they’re all special, But, this one is extra special! I was with her when it was born. Her mother didn’t live through the birth, so I bottle-fed her, then watched her grow. It wasn’t long before she was gamboling all over the pasture.

I had to give her a name, and not being very creative, I decided to simplify and just call her, “Lambie.” I’d call her when she was playing with the other lambs, she would stop, look at me with what I’m sure was a questioning look, and then quickly run to me. Now she’s gone, lost, and all alone.

I put on my heavy coat, took my walking stick and a club to fight off any animals that might be attracted to a good meal, and headed out to the last place my servant had seen her. Night was falling fast as it does in our hills, but the hills are rocky and difficult for walking, let alone for running. I was soon at the place where Lambie had disappeared so I started calling her, “Lambie, I’m here. Come to me if you can. I don’t want you to be hurt. Do you remember when I used to bandage up your hurt places when you were smaller and I’d rub soothing oil on those hurt places?” I probably sounded strange to anyone who might have heard me. But, a lamb is precious and worthy of all the care I can give it.

Wait just a minute. I couldn’t believe I was actually calling to a sheep; am I nuts? Would she recognize my voice? Would she be able to get out of the brambles if that’s where she was? Maybe she was injured—oh, no, I didn’t being oil or anything to use as a bandage. All I brought was my love and concern. But, will that be enough? I’m not so sure it will be. However, I think it’s a start—it got me up here in the hills in the brambles where she is probably caught. Love makes us do radical things like going out in the night to find a lost lamb.

I started wondering why she was lost. Why did she run away? Was she frightened? Was it merely curious about the big outside world, and felt she needed to discover for herself what she was missing? On the other hand, did she talk with one of the other sheep who had run off by itself, and my lamb heard some stuff that sounded tantalizing and exciting? Since Lambie is a little ewe, maybe one of the young rams may have promised to go with her and then “chickened out” and let Lambie go on her own. I’ll never know why. I can only guess. But, that isn’t important now—I must find her and bring her back to the sheepfold where she’ll be safe and loved.

Then I remembered what it was like when I was younger and had some of the same thoughts and inclinations that I was ascribing to Lambie. Did I forget what it was like to be safe in my Dad’s “sheepfold?” What had seemed so attractive about life that I didn’t know? I remember hearing the other guys talking or bragging about their escapades and finding them exciting and alluring. I thought that maybe, just maybe, it would be more fun to try it on my own. Then, someone told me a story about a lost son, who begged his Dad to give him his inheritance so he could run away and “live like the way he thought life should be lived.” It was a disastrous experience for that guy. He ultimately came to his senses and returned to his Dad, and to his home where he was welcomed, loved, and cherished. It took a while for him to realize what his experience had cost his Dad in worry, gray hair, and sleeplessness.

When I first heard that story, I asked my Dad if he thought the story I had heard could actually be true. “Would you accept me back the same way if I took off even if I didn’t have your money to finance my dream? Would you accept me back the way the storybook Dad did?” He told me with a smile on his face, “Oh, I would, son, I would. I’d hug you just as the story-book Dad did.” I told him that I decided not to put him through that ordeal of worry, sleeplessness, and gray hair. (Yes, I did mention his gray hair.) I started to feel quite proud of my decision, until I realized the storybook Dad was like Jehovah God, who wanted me to come back to him even more than I wanted Lambie to come back to me. That’s when I realized that Jehovah loved me so much that he would personally come looking for me wherever I was and whatever I had done to disappoint him. Biblical background: This story is an adaptation of the biblical account in St. Luke, one of three parables that Jesus told about the joy in heaven when one sinner is reclaimed.

Scripture: St. Luke 15:1-7

Discussion possibilities:

1. What would be the difference today for a parable about something lost, rather than Lambie?