the door of the sheep

Sometimes I sure do feel like sheep.

In Veggie Tales, they are easily knocked over.

In reality, they are rather unaware, wandering, herd-focused...must be told where to go and what to do, or will wander off and get lost.

They are very vulnerable to fear and frustration, to pests and hunger, and they are easily frightened and panicked.  They have very little discernment.  They can be very stubborn and insist on their own way, even when eating poisonous plants or contaminated water.

Sheep are very easily "cast"--flipped over on their back and prone to starvation if not flipped back over by their shepherd.  They are incapable of flipping themselves back over, or re-orienting each other.

They are creatures of habit, easily get stuck in ruts, need to be on the move and need a pre-determined plan and pattern of grazing.  Known as needing the most care of all other livestock, they hate to be sheared, but are easily "cast" if their wool gets too heavy.

They are totally dependent upon the shepherd for every need, and frequently need "rod and staff guidance."

Some days, I feel more like Living Water, or His hands or feet.  Some days, I feel like Children of God, or the Body of Christ.

And then some days I just feel like sheep.

Whether I recognize myself in the characteristics of sheep or not, HE recognizes you and I there.  The Bible universally calls us sheep, and you have to admit as you read through that list of sheeply characteristics that it sounds an awful lot like humanity.

Entirely secular references on sheep note that the entire hope of every sheep's hourly survival and existence is entirely dependent upon the shepherd.

And despite all He is and has done, here we are, some days, totally vulnerable to pests and hunger, panic and fear, stubbornness and wolves.

It would bring me nothing but dismay--this recognition of myself as a wandering, easily despairing, totally dependent, very stubborn, very vulnerable and in need of rod and staff guidance--if He didn't call Himself my Good Shepherd.

Without Him, even for a few hours, the obvious fate of any sheep is death.  Separation and death.

And while I hate the days like these when I feel so fumbling and emotional, so vulnerable and panicky, there is comfort in His watch-care.  Salvation in His rod and staff.  Faith in His pre-determined plan for my life and the lives of my beloved ones....you.

My own way--poisoned and contaminated--I surrender.  My own will, shorn for that which He knows to be better.  Even my own wandering heart and emotions, steadily, continually, constantly in His care.

And we may be dense and stubborn and wandering.  But darn it, we know His voice, the voice of our Good Shepherd, "and the sheep follow Him because they know His voice" (John 10).

"Truly, truly," Jesus says in John 10, "I am the door of the sheep, and I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly."

He knows us full well.  Better than we know ourselves.  And despite this--despite all our our sheepishness--instead of condemning and ridiculing us, He decided to descend.  To become a Shepherd.  That He might draw near us, that He might guide us, that He might be our Hope, our Salvation.

This sheep is resting fully on this beautiful and incomprehensible truth today.

He turns our sheeply despair into Praise, and as we call out to Him, He is everything we need...not just to survive.  Not just to beat hunger, to be spared the wolves, not just to be safe, but to live abundantly.