Now the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear him. 2 And the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.”3 So he told them this parable: 4 “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? 5 And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. 6 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.’ 7 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 (ESV)
Imagine with me that you are a shepard. You've been roaming the hills with this flock of 100 sheep for a while. And then one goes missing. You suddenly notice that that one little ewe with the wide set eyes and the little notch in her ear is not among your sheep.
What are your first thoughts? What are you feeling? What do you do? You aren't thinking about logistics, are you? You aren't thinking about philosophical ideas. You aren't thinking about anything other than that missing sheep. You are filled with a desperation to find that ewe. And so you leave your flock and you roam the hills, calling for her. You are hoping that around the next bend, you'll see her. Hills go by, you are bounding from boulder to boulder, trying to find a place to see as much of the ground as you can and still trying to move quickly. The shadows begin to shift and lengthen and you haven't found her yet. You are beginning to despair of finding her, worried that if the night comes before you find her, the wolves will find her first.
And then you hear her bleating. You whirl in the direction of the sound, and dash after it. You don't see her yet, but she is still crying. Your heart aches with the knowledge that she is at hand but not immediately present to you.
And then you see her. You find her hiding in the space between two rocks. As much as you want to run to her and fling your arms around her so you can take her back to the flock, you still. You approach gently, and carefully and stroke her head once she recognizes you. You take a few minutes to calm her before lifting her on your shoulders and heading back to the flock.
At the days end, you're sitting with your family or friends or Shepherds Non-Anonymous Group or whatever, and you get to share with them your joy of your finding of your lost sheep. You had an emotional and troubling day, and yet it has all ended in joy--a joy that came because she was lost but is found. A joy that came because what has been lost has been found. The joy of finding is proportional to the hurt at the losing.
It's a stunning picture of the love of Jesus, is it not? The compassion of the Shepherd seeking after his one lost sheep.
Let's change the picture a little bit. Let's paint this in a different color. What if that ewe with the wide eyes and the notched ear had a habit of disappearing? What if this was not the first time the shepherd had noticed this sheep missing? Does this change the shepherd's desire to find her? No. It might change the initial emotions, but it doesn't keep the shepherd from wanting to find her. The shepherd will still climb over hills and rocks to find her. And when he does, will he not still stroke her head and lift her on his shoulders? Will he not still not rejoice that this missing sheep is on his shoulders again and headed back to his flock? Might not he have even more compassion on this sheep that always seems to be getting left behind or lost or separated? And while at SNA, someone might ask him, Isn't that the one that ran off last week? And might he say, Yea. I know. I'm just glad she's back now, again.
Let's paint this a little differently still. Let's use oils instead of acrylics, and shift the perspective. When the shepherd realizes he's missing that sheep and chooses to leave the flock to find her, is it not possible that the shepherd, even in his distress over the missing sheep, takes pleasure in knowing that he *can* leave the flock to find this one? He trusts these sheep, because he knows these sheep trust him. Does he not rejoice in this as well?
And is it not possible that he looks at each of those sheep and remembers a time when it was that sheep with the funny colored nose who ran off, or the one with the odd gait, or the one with a cowlick in his coat? Is it not possible that each of these ninety-nine that he has left behind have been that one sheep before? And is it possible that these sheep stay put because they know that even when the shepherd leaves them, he always comes back to them?
10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. 11 I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. 12 He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. 13 He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. 14 I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, 15 just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep. John 10 (ESV)
Imagine with me that you are a shepard. You've been roaming the hills with this flock of 100 sheep for a while. And then one goes missing. You suddenly notice that that one little ewe with the wide set eyes and the little notch in her ear is not among your sheep.
What are your first thoughts? What are you feeling? What do you do? You aren't thinking about logistics, are you? You aren't thinking about philosophical ideas. You aren't thinking about anything other than that missing sheep. You are filled with a desperation to find that ewe. And so you leave your flock and you roam the hills, calling for her. You are hoping that around the next bend, you'll see her. Hills go by, you are bounding from boulder to boulder, trying to find a place to see as much of the ground as you can and still trying to move quickly. The shadows begin to shift and lengthen and you haven't found her yet. You are beginning to despair of finding her, worried that if the night comes before you find her, the wolves will find her first.
And then you hear her bleating. You whirl in the direction of the sound, and dash after it. You don't see her yet, but she is still crying. Your heart aches with the knowledge that she is at hand but not immediately present to you.
And then you see her. You find her hiding in the space between two rocks. As much as you want to run to her and fling your arms around her so you can take her back to the flock, you still. You approach gently, and carefully and stroke her head once she recognizes you. You take a few minutes to calm her before lifting her on your shoulders and heading back to the flock.
At the days end, you're sitting with your family or friends or Shepherds Non-Anonymous Group or whatever, and you get to share with them your joy of your finding of your lost sheep. You had an emotional and troubling day, and yet it has all ended in joy--a joy that came because she was lost but is found. A joy that came because what has been lost has been found. The joy of finding is proportional to the hurt at the losing.
It's a stunning picture of the love of Jesus, is it not? The compassion of the Shepherd seeking after his one lost sheep.
Let's change the picture a little bit. Let's paint this in a different color. What if that ewe with the wide eyes and the notched ear had a habit of disappearing? What if this was not the first time the shepherd had noticed this sheep missing? Does this change the shepherd's desire to find her? No. It might change the initial emotions, but it doesn't keep the shepherd from wanting to find her. The shepherd will still climb over hills and rocks to find her. And when he does, will he not still stroke her head and lift her on his shoulders? Will he not still not rejoice that this missing sheep is on his shoulders again and headed back to his flock? Might not he have even more compassion on this sheep that always seems to be getting left behind or lost or separated? And while at SNA, someone might ask him, Isn't that the one that ran off last week? And might he say, Yea. I know. I'm just glad she's back now, again.
Let's paint this a little differently still. Let's use oils instead of acrylics, and shift the perspective. When the shepherd realizes he's missing that sheep and chooses to leave the flock to find her, is it not possible that the shepherd, even in his distress over the missing sheep, takes pleasure in knowing that he *can* leave the flock to find this one? He trusts these sheep, because he knows these sheep trust him. Does he not rejoice in this as well?
And is it not possible that he looks at each of those sheep and remembers a time when it was that sheep with the funny colored nose who ran off, or the one with the odd gait, or the one with a cowlick in his coat? Is it not possible that each of these ninety-nine that he has left behind have been that one sheep before? And is it possible that these sheep stay put because they know that even when the shepherd leaves them, he always comes back to them?
10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. 11 I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. 12 He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. 13 He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. 14 I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, 15 just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep. John 10 (ESV)
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