Today I was walking and I stumbled upon a decorative stone that had been kicked out into the street. I bent over and tossed it back in with the rest but I didn't get very far before I was drawn in to Jesus' comments about His sheep getting out of their pen. Suddenly it dawned on me that I was one of those sheep. Ninety-nine in and one out seems pretty solitary but what has had me fooled has been the thousands and millions of one sheep also out of the pen. All of us are wandering about as if we are in a group but it isn't so. We have just been thousands of loners mingling. I admit I have been for too long intoxicated by the good stuff I have done and fooled into thinking I have it figured but I am just bleary-eyed and my thinking dimmed by busyness. Suddenly in a blip of sense, I saw my place...outside the pen. Too many times I make excuses, claiming it is not that big a deal to live far from where the Peters and Pauls and Billy Grahams and Elizabeth Eliots and Julians of Norwich and Richard Fosters graze but I can't now. Realizing I have wandered off, I can no longer explain away my deep character flaws that point out my locale. I did not beat my chest or weap uncontrollably but I prayed. Then I slipped back into the pen. There might not be any dramatic changes in my character or how I visit with God but I don't want to make any excuses either for comfortably grazing outside of the one pasture.
No comments:
Post a Comment