Driving down the highway in an 18-wheeler, trucker Steve noticed a little lamb looking at him from the fence line of the sheep pasture. It was spring time in the Willamette Valley, and the pasture was full of little lambs. Each day as he drove by he would look at the sheep, and especially admire the playful little lambs. This particular little lamb seemed to look right at him as he drove by, and gave him the cutest little smile. Nothing better than that to make your day bright and cheerful.
The next day as he drove by that same pasture, once again there was a little lamb, right at the fence line, smiling at him. Looking right at him as he sped on by. Could it be the same little lamb, determined to stand by the fence and smile at cars and trucks as they hurried by?
Quickly, the questions began to swirl in his mind. Could it really be the same little lamb? And if so, what is the likelihood that it would be in the same spot two days in a row? Could it be injured? Was that cute little smile actually a look of desperation, a cry for help?
Another voice interrupted his thoughts. Clearly, he heard in his mind, “Go back and rescue the little lamb.” Easier said than done, though. You don’t turn a truck around on a dime, and you don’t want to waste company time for a silly little hunch about a silly little lamb. But he decided to heed that voice. He had to drive a five mile circuit, onto the freeway and back around on another highway, but he did it.
As he pulled off the side of the road by the lamb another car pulled up behind him. He thought, “Oh no, how am I going to explain this one to the highway patrolman?” But it was another woman who had noticed the same little lamb for two days now, and was also determined to see if it needed help. Together they went down to the fence line to check on the little lamb. Sure enough, it was in trouble, serious trouble. It had its head stuck in the fence and could not get itself free. Together they cut a couple wires on the fence, climbed over, and carefully pulled the lamb out of its predicament. They set it free and it ran away a few feet and turned back to look at them. Then it walked off a little farther and began to graze.
Back at the warehouse the story began to spread amongst many, many other employees. Some made fun of trucker Steve. But others, who knew the beautiful picture from the teachings of Jesus (Luke 15:4-7) marveled at the modern day illustration of that parable. Steve himself marveled at how clearly the Spirit of God taught him a unique lesson on loving and helping people who desperately need love and help. Not in huge numbers, but one little lamb at a time.
In the parable that Jesus told, the shepherd wrestled with leaving 99 sheep in the fold while going out to rescue one lost sheep. In our busy lifestyles, though, we need to take notice of the lamb that everyone else is passing by, hear the call of the Spirit, turn back from our appointed destination, and take the time to love and serve someone who desperately needs our help.
Perhaps it is because we don’t live in the love of God that we don’t love others well (I Jn4:7-19). Love changes hearts, truth changes direction.
June 23, 2013
The Scars of Life
On a hot summer day in South Florida, a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house. In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went. He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore.
His father, working in the yard, saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, he ran toward the water, yelling to his son as loudly as he could. Hearing his voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his father. It was too late. Just as he reached his father, the alligator reached him. From the dock, the father grabbed his little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the father, but the father was much too passionate to let go.
A farmer happened to drive by, heard his screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator. Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his father's fingernails dug into his flesh in his effort to hang on to the son he loved.
The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, 'But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Dad wouldn't let go.'
You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. No, not from an alligator, but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But, some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go. In the midst of your struggle, He's been there holding on to you.
(From an email off of the Internet, Nov, 2009)
His father, working in the yard, saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, he ran toward the water, yelling to his son as loudly as he could. Hearing his voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his father. It was too late. Just as he reached his father, the alligator reached him. From the dock, the father grabbed his little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the father, but the father was much too passionate to let go.
A farmer happened to drive by, heard his screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator. Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his father's fingernails dug into his flesh in his effort to hang on to the son he loved.
The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, 'But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Dad wouldn't let go.'
You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. No, not from an alligator, but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But, some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go. In the midst of your struggle, He's been there holding on to you.
(From an email off of the Internet, Nov, 2009)
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