The Good Shepherd
A little note before we begin…
If you’re just joining us, welcome! Pull up a chair!
We’ve been on quite an adventure lately, although some might feel like it’s a bit of a wild goose chase, and this story picks up where The Centerpiece left off. So if you haven’t read The Question, The Wrestle, and The Centerpiece, I’d encourage you to start there.
Otherwise, you might find yourself a little lost. (Pun absolutely intended.)
And just as an extra side note, I feel like I’m constantly still asking the question, still wrestling, and as you will continue to read, I am most definitely still learning to sit at the table with an interactive centerpiece.
In other words, you aren’t behind.
After all, I hear there is something powerful about needing to hear or reread something 27 Times.
Thank you guys so much for reading all of my thoughts and especially to those of you who have given me such sweet encouragement in the process!
“What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.” —Luke 15:4-7
Ahem.
He cleared His throat and grinned at me as He opened the ancient book.
”Once upon a time…”
I pressed my lips together, letting out a little giggle—still clearly learning His nature.
“There was a Shepherd who had a hundred sheep. One of the sheep had wandered off and gotten lost. So the Shepherd left the ninety-nine out in the open country and went after the one that was lost. He looked until he found it. When he did find it, in great joy, he laid it upon his shoulders and carried it back with unbridled delight. Once he got home, he called all his friends, family, and neighbors and said, ‘Rejoice with me! I have found my sheep that was lost.’ And let me tell you, this is what it will be like, with even more joy, in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.”
He looked up from the book and held my gaze steady for a moment.
“What did you think of the Shepherd?” He finally asked.
His tone wasn’t demanding. I could tell He wasn’t quizzing me. He simply wanted to know what I thought.
I blinked at Him, a little caught off guard by His question. This was so foreign to me. The Bully always just told me what the story was about. He told me what I was supposed to think. I wasn’t allowed to have my own thoughts or questions. I wasn’t asked for my opinions. He always explained, taught, and spoke as if these were the only answers and he was certain he was correct about them.
But here, sitting at this Table with Jesus, He was extending yet another invitation.
An invitation of discovery.
I bit my lip, looked away, and took a deep breath—thinking about the story He just read.
What did I think about the Shepherd?
He waited patiently, as if He had all the time in the world, content to just be with me in the moment while I thought.
I took another deep breath, then stated, “I think I’ve never noticed Him before. I’ve always been taught to look at the sheep.”
I have a friend from California, who just so happened to be in town a couple weekends ago—which is when I started writing this blog. Also, fun fact, he just so happened to raise sheep for a while at one point in his life.
Hmmm… how ‘bout that timing.
I asked him if he had any good stories about any of his sheep getting lost and his immediate response was to laugh and say, “You mean running away?”
There was something about that phrase that sat with me. I know we are often compared to sheep in the Scriptures. Including in the one we are currently feasting on. But I don’t think I’ve ever quite thought about a sheep running away.
I think I’ve always pictured this cute little sheep, fluffy and white, eating grass amongst the wild flowers. There’s probably some frolicking at some point, just minding its own business, enjoying the day, then suddenly, it’s wandered farther than it realized and has no idea how to get back.
Yeah, that’s what I’ve always thought.
But then, my friend tells me how he would put them in a shelter at night. This shelter was designed to keep them safe. From what exactly? Well, for one, coyotes. He said that sometimes a coyote would start to circle the shelter they were in. It was as if he was enticing them, taunting them, daring them to come out. The sheep would panic. Although they were safe, it was as if they believed they weren’t, and that running would give them a better chance of survival. But what they didn’t know is that the coyotes travel in packs. There were probably others hidden waiting for the sheep to run.
The truth was, though, there was nothing to fear at all. The truth was… they were safe in the shelter.
This made me think of a picture the Lord gave me over the summer about what submission looks like.
He is holding a very large umbrella and He and I are under it, walking together. But if I choose to step out from under the umbrella I am suddenly exposed and at the mercy of all the elements. The blazing hot sun, the rain, the thunderstorms, hailstorms, pretty much any type of storm.
You get the idea.
I do this often.
I step out from underneath the umbrella.
I run from the shelter.
I doubt. I panic. I sometimes, honestly, just wander. Truth? Sometimes, I’m just curious and want to test the elements myself. I wanna see what’s out there. I wanna see what I can handle. And I would be lying if I didn’t tell you there was a little FOMO mixed in at times.
I am, without a doubt, the sheep.
And the coyote? He sounds an awful lot like The Peddler to me.
But the Shepherd.
Hmmm…
“Honestly, now that you’ve asked that question, the Shepherd actually looks like he’s more of the main character than the sheep,” I say.
Interesting.
Jesus gives me a knowing grin. Still waiting to see if I have any more thoughts I want to share.
After a moment, He responds, “Is that so?” A pause. “So what exactly is he doing?”
I think back over the story, recounting the details.
Something hits me.
It clicks.
“Everything.” I whisper. “He’s doing everything. He’s doing all the work.”
I felt stunned for a second, then added, “Actually, the only thing the sheep even did was get lost.”
”I am more like Eve than I care to admit.”
I wrote this in my prayer journal the other morning.
“I truly do tend to live in scarcity.” I confessed.
Maybe it’s not actually that I live there. Maybe it’s that I keep returning to the mindset because of another nagging voice I’m not quite sure what to do with.
Evie.
Ugh.
I picked her up the first time I decided to wander/run from the Shepherd. I told you I was curious. ScarCity didn’t necessarily have an appealing name. But what I had heard about it was what piqued my interest.
The Peddler had told me about it.
I know, I know, that should have been a red flag right then and there. But I was naive, ok?
And I was weary of waiting for what I wanted.
He had said that ScarCity was where people could actually experience their desires fulfilled, their longings met, “and the best part is?” He gave a sly grin, “you don’t have to wait for Anyone. Anything you want, you can make it happen.”
That was it. I had to see this place for myself.
The moment I stepped through the gates, I was greeted by two scraggly… kids?
Yea, I guess you could call them that. Although, I don’t think that is quite so accurate.
Their hair was a mess, they were barefoot and had holes in the rags they were calling clothes. They were clearly malnourished, which is what seemed to have stunted their growth. “Hi!” they said with far more enthusiasm than their appearance afforded them. “We’re Evie and A.J.” (ahem, Adam Jr.) “We’d love to show you around.”
And that’s just what they did, whether I wanted them to or not.
The first thing I noticed: everyone was exhausted here. Pushing, grinding, striving and hustling like they were all running late to something. However, Evie and A.J. acted as if this was a good thing, “Everyone here is getting what they really want,” they said. “Money, fame, pleasure. Whatever you desire. Even the simple statuses. Marriage, kids, dream career. It’s all here and available whenever you want it.”
It seemed like an endless loop to me, although all I could see were ladders everywhere. People were literally fighting to climb them as quickly as they could. It was like there was something at the top they were dying to see or experience. I don’t know. I couldn’t tell.
But from my perspective, the more people hustled, the more they made. The more they made, the more they bought. But what they bought constantly became bigger, more extravagant, or the “next thing they wanted,” and suddenly they had to hustle harder in order to keep up with all their wants and desires… that suddenly all felt like needs.
By the time the tour was over, I was even more drained and exhausted than when I had arrived. This place is not for me, I thought. I politely thanked Evie and A.J. for the tour and left.
The Bully met me right outside the gates and started scolding me for going in the first place. I needed to “find my way back to the Shepherd,” he had said. I looked around, suddenly aware that I actually had no idea where I was or how to get back. My head was pounding. I wasn’t in the mood for this. Still he persisted.
Then The Peddler showed up.
This guy.
He offered me something to help with the pain. Definitely acting like he cared. I stood there looking at him with a blank expression when, all of a sudden, a now familiar voice spoke up. “Oh yes, that will definitely help. You need to get that one, Kristen. Otherwise, you might never get rid of the pain.” I looked down and saw Evie.
“Um, what are you doing here?” I said.
”I’m your consolation prize from ScarCity. Everyone gets one when they leave,” she explained. “I’m with you now.”
I slapped my forehead and rubbed my temples. I wish I would have never left the Shepherd.
In the days that followed, it was like she was stuck to me. As close as my very flesh. Constantly talking. Constantly begging for things. Especially the things The Peddler offered. Her favorite activities were “what-if” games and “just-in-case” scenarios. She was weak, and I felt like I constantly had to tend to her. All she knew was what she had grown up learning in ScarCity. Therefore, everything she said felt like it was getting tangled up with my real desires and I couldn’t quite separate them out.
And honestly, that wasn’t even the worst part.
We were lost.
Correction.
I was lost.
Evie actually knew exactly where we were in reference to ScarCity. She kept begging, and begging, and begging some more for us to return there.
I’m not gonna say I wasn’t tempted. Especially after a while out in the wilderness. I was hungry, cold, filthy, lonely, and honestly just scared. Every time The Peddler showed up, he offered what seemed like the perfect remedy, and it cost me greatly, but I was desperate. However, every single time, I felt weaker and deep down I knew whatever he was giving me was also slowly killing me.
One day, I was sitting crouched down by a big rock, trying to find some shade from the scorching sun. I was crying…again. Still in pain, but now I was bruised, battered, and had cuts all over my sun-burned skin. Through the tears I whispered a prayer to find the Shepherd, to find my way home. Evie seemed concerned of course, and she started rattling off her never-ending list of ideas to fix it all. I just tried to ignore her.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming down the path on the other side of the rock. “Please don’t be The Peddler or The Bully again,” I prayed.
I squeezed my eyes shut, “Daughter!” I heard His voice and my eyes shot open. For a moment, I thought I had been dreaming.
The look on His face was pure joy, and He immediately wrapped me up in His arms and held me close.
”I’ve been out here searching for you ever since you left,” He whispered, and I saw His eyes were glistening with tears.
“You have?” I said, realizing this reality had never quite occurred to me.
The Bully kept telling me how mad the Shepherd probably was at me and how if by some miracle I did find my way back, I was going to have a lot of explaining to do, be punished, and have to earn my way back into His good graces.
But this wasn’t at all what I was expecting.
“Of course, Daughter. You are Mine and I love you.”
He gently lifted me up, being careful of my injuries, and started to carry me. “Let’s get you home.”
Tears started streaming down my face.
And it was then that I noticed… Evie had finally stopped talking. She was still there, but she was quiet.
Submission without trust, I am learning, feels like scarcity. It can also feel like captivity.
It feels like a bunch of rules one must follow in order to stay in right standing with the One they are submitting to. It feels like control and withholding if the heart of the One is misunderstood.
But the more I get to know the One who built the shelter for me, the One I’m walking with, the One who is holding the umbrella, the more I see just how trustworthy He actually is. He’s actually the most trustworthy. The more I trust Him, the more I believe Him, and the more I don’t want to run away. I’m not quite so curious about what it’s like outside His Presence. I don’t have near as much FOMO.
Although sometimes I still wander—sometimes by pure distraction. Sometimes, the waiting feels unbearable, and sometimes, the pain is quite excruciating. Sometimes, I just want to lay down because I’m weary and exhausted.
But I’m learning that even when this happens, The Good Shepherd will come.
I don’t have to find my way home. I don’t have to figure out how to get back to Him.
And I think the biggest relief of all is… He isn’t expecting me to.
“This is what repentance looks like.”
He said softly from beside me at this Table. He searched my eyes to make sure I understood what He was saying.
I could feel my heart beating a little faster, my eyes swelling with tears as I looked back at Him.
No, He was definitely not at all what I thought.
I felt like I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak.
This all felt too good to be true, yet I desperately hoped it was.
“And then they had a big party to celebrate the Shepherd.” He gave a wide grin and I noticed there was something underneath His voice as if He was hinting at something else.
A thought seemed to come out of nowhere. I had not known how to let Him love me. But suddenly I realized, sitting at this Table that He Himself had prepared for me—this, just sitting here, listening to Him, talking with Him—I felt more loved than I ever had known possible.
And I also knew, without a doubt, I was falling very deeply in love with Him too.
I smiled at Him, in awe of Him, and watched as He slowly turned the page.
To be continued…
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