Flock Mentality

While it would seem that sheep are shepherded as a flock, nothing could be further from the truth. Within the flock are distinct personalities…each sheep is unique, with its own set of challenges to the shepherd. Over time, I have come to notice four broad categories of sheep in my personal flock.

There are the sheep that refuse to draw near…no amount of enticement will bring them in. These are the “lost sheep,” the ones that would remain outside of the fold at night, given the chance. They need to be sought and driven to safety. Despite my best efforts, they have difficulty trusting that my care is altruistic, preferring to rely on their own instincts. The want no good thing if it threatens their independence. They are the fringe observers. Feeling no security, their fear leaves them exposed. Sadly, these are the sheep that are most nervous, worried, stressed and prone to panic. The world to them is suspect, there is no safe harbor, and no rest.

Other sheep in my flock can be lured to approach if the benefit is too strong to resist. These are my hedonists. Molasses, corn, oats and barley (called “wet cob”) is their weakness. They are captivated by the rattle of a coffee can. It makes no difference who holds the can – or where they are led by the can – only that they taste the reward. These sheep are drawn by greed and desire. There is no relationship between them and the bearer of the can, no concern about the intent – good or evil – as long as their desire is met. These sheep are so easily ensnared…they will come just as eagerly to a can of rattling rocks as they do cob. They are not sensitive enough to discern the difference until they are manipulated and deceived. Their appetites are never fully satisfied, and so they are controlled by them.

Then there are the obedient sheep. They are content to be distant from me, doing whatever they please unless they are asked to do otherwise. There is no real relationship between us. They exist as confident members of the flock, complacent, believing that unless they are told otherwise, all is well. They live their lives independent of me, resigned, unless I call them near. They respond dutifully to a voice familiar, assured that they are particularly wanted. They know that the shepherd is good. Their chief desire is approval, and will follow their own way unless a demand is made and approval is guaranteed.

Lastly, the faithful. These are the sheep that have no other desire than to be in my presence. They are confident that all of their needs will be satisfied by me. They are ever-watchful for my appearance. It matters little, my purpose in the barn or pasture – wherever I am and whatever I am doing, they desire my companionship. Regardless of the circumstances or experience, they have complete confidence in my affection towards them. They seek a relationship. Whether I pat them or praise them, or simply go about my business, they are content to be with me. These are my fearless sheep. They go about their days in quiet assurance and peace. They seek nothing for themselves, confident in the provision made for them.

Of course, I love all of my sheep, whether they frustrate or flatter me. I make every effort to reassure the frightened ones, to satisfy the greedy ones, and to approve the obedient ones. But my joy is the faithful ones.

A few years ago, I was in a Bible study with the topic of “Experiencing God.” It was a good study, though I found it difficult to commit to. I was drawn away by my responsibilities during lambing…and to be honest, complete distraction. I didn’t find the study engaging, as I experience God in everything that I do. The question that nettled me was how God was experiencing me…

I have an affinity for Bible verses that reference sheep, and shepherding, “Sheep Theology.” When the text was written, readers were well-acquainted with sheep. Today, much of the meaning is lost, as shepherding is no longer a common pursuit. For me, any reference to sheep or shepherding speaks volumes, and gives an intimacy to my understanding of a passage that no other explanation could.

A particular favorite is Psalm 100:3-5 (NIV):
Know that the LORD is God.
It is he who made us, and we are his;
we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.

Knowing how sheep are, the question begs to be answered…
Which sheep am I?
How does God experience me?

For the lost, rest assured that you are sought after.

Luke 15:4-7 "Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.
2 Peter 3:9 "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance."

For the hedonist, there is a way to find satisfaction.

John 4:14 "Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst."

And the obedient, you can cease striving. You have been approved.

Ephesians 2:8,9 "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast."

If you long to be among the faithful, pursue Him.

Hebrews 11:5-7 "And it is impossible to please God without faith. Anyone who wants to come to him must believe that God exists and that he rewards those who sincerely seek him."

Regardless of which sheep you find yourself to be, there is a Shepherd who cares for you, that loves you tenderly, and seeks the highest and best for you. He wants to keep you in the safety of His fold, calm your fear and satisfy your heart. Will you allow Him to?

Feed My Sheep

Over the last few weeks, I have learned firsthand the intimacy and urgency of the request “If you love me…feed my sheep” made by Jesus to his disciple, Peter, in the Gospels of Matthew and John. Circumstances of health have left me unable to watch over my flock for a time, and I have had to entrust them to another’s care.

To one who is not a shepherd, “Feed my sheep” seems like a simple request to make sure their stomachs are full…but it is so much more. The significance of this humble request is more explicitly revealed in Ezekiel, chapter 34. Feeding sheep entails: caring for the weak, binding the wounded, seeking the lost, protecting them, defending them, assuring their peace of mind, visiting them, watching over them, guiding them, folding them (keeping the flock together) and managing them with tenderness and kindness. You see, “feeding” does not just mean to satisfy their physical hunger – but all of their needs. To meet all of their needs, you must know them, intimately.

Feeding sheep cannot be accomplished as a daily chore – it is an ongoing labor of love. In John, chapter 10 verse 13, Jesus said that a hired man has no concern for the sheep; he will abandon them when he sees a wolf approach. By contrast, the good shepherd will lay down his life for them. In biblical days, a shepherd was usually the youngest of the household, and the sheep did not belong to him. He shepherded out of love, loyalty and obedience to his father. How well he fulfilled this duty was a measure of his integrity, and determined the survival and success of his family. Shepherding was not a casual task, it was a sacred trust.

What would make sheep so valuable that a shepherd would give his life for them? In the Old Testament, sheep were not only a family’s sustenance, their source of food, milk and clothing, but of means of reconciliation with God through sacrifice. A sheep provided for both their physical and spiritual needs.

Since sheep have no means of defending themselves, a shepherd is responsible for them day and night. Though equipped with a rod, the most important aspect of his success was intimate acquaintance – love. The shepherd knows his sheep, and the sheep know him. They will not follow a stranger. How many times do we miss the key word in that passage? “Follow.” A shepherd doesn’t drive his sheep. A dog drives sheep. A shepherd calls sheep – and recognizing his voice - they follow. A rod requires contact with an individual sheep (or predator) where a voice can carry across the distance to move an entire flock away from danger. A stranger simply cannot step in and fill the shepherd’s role without becoming as familiar to the sheep as the shepherd. You cannot shepherd without love and trust.

Yesterday I was able to visit my sheep. Though they had food to eat, they were starving. They were hungry for my voice, my touch, my concern, my leading. Having a stranger meet their physical needs had not satisfied them. I realized that asking someone to feed my sheep in my absence is asking them to love my sheep as I love them…to be not the person they are, but who I am for my flock.

It gives me great pause to consider that in first epistle of Peter, chapter 5 verse 2, we are told to “Care for the flock of God entrusted to (us). Watch over it willingly, not grudgingly – not for what (we) will get out of it, but because we are eager to serve God…so that when the head Shepherd returns…”

I have not just been given my flock to care for in this life, but I have been entrusted to feed my Father's sheep.

For the people placed around me, how accurate of a reflection am I of Christ and his care for them? Will I have been a stranger or a shepherd in his absence? If the head Shepherd were to return to his flock, would he find his sheep scattered and hungry?

“Feed my sheep.” It seems like a humble request…but it is a sacred trust, far more demanding and noble than we imagine, and impossible to do without surrendering ourselves and conforming to his likeness...Do we love him enough?

Feed My Sheep
by David Humpal

I would give my all to God
My life is in God’s hands
I would do a mighty work
Across the foreign lands
But God gently said to me
Feed my lambs

If God asked to give to him
My wealth or riches deep
I’d obey his every wish
Each promise I would keep
But God calmly said to me
Tend my sheep

Every mountain I would climb
However high or steep
Every canyon I would cross
However wide or deep
But God softly said to me
Feed my sheep


Your prayers during this time would be greatly appreciated. Of course a return to health would be a blessing, but however he chooses to glorify Himself in my life, I would pray to be His humble servant.

Redemption

There are many seasons on the farm – some more picturesque and romantic than others. If asked to describe a farm, what comes to your mind?
Is it a spring scene with the fields newly planted, frolicking baby animals, and green splendor? Or do you see the culmination at harvest with the hay, fresh-mown and baled in the fields, trees laden with fruit and a lush garden with bountiful produce? Very few people picture what happens between the spring and harvest. Labor. Building, preparing, repairing. It is neither picturesque nor romantic. It is dirty and exhausting, and in the case of the task at hand – aromatic – in the worst way.

This week I stripped the barn. As the shepherd, the task falls to me. No one else will even come near. There is not one member of my family, nor a person for hire willing to lend a hand. To stand in the barn before the work begins, you would be oblivious to what lies beneath the soft, sweet-smelling straw. A few inches below the surface the litter has begun to decompose…a few inches below that, it is fully rancid. During the coldest months, the heat from the decomposition keeps the floor of the barn warm for the sheep, but in the summer, the same heat becomes unbearable. Stripping the barn removes between twelve and eighteen inches of the most pungent, putrid filth - the stench is so rank it defies description or imagination - to the cool, sweet soil beneath.

I stood leaning on the pitchfork, overwhelmed and weak from the odor. I asked God for another metaphor to distract me enough to get me through it. Something beyond the role of the Shepherd, and unconditional love, that would raise mucking manure in the sweltering July heat to a sublime meditation. God is faithful to instruct…

Why was I doing what I was doing? For the love of the sheep, to give them a reprieve from the heat, and prepare the barn for winter…No. Beyond that. Beyond the sheep, beyond the barn, beyond the stink. What am I holding? See it not for what it was – manure - or what it is – rot…but what will it be when it is finished? At this point I clearly saw the transformed and finished product – the compost heap. In the end this offensive rot becomes the harvest. There could be no harvest without it…the crop would starve. In the depths, in the undisturbed dark of the barn it is rot. To apply it directly to something green and growing would kill the plant – it is too “hot”. But if it is brought to light and exposed, turned and exposed, it is transformed to one of the most life-giving substances on earth – fertile compost – rich soil - tilth. What was filth and decay is redeemed.

Like the floor of the barn, our outward appearance is little indication of what lies beneath. And what lies beneath is decay, which leads to death. It can be transformed to something life-giving! Christ is able to redeem even our worst attributes – our greatest failures - those that permeate us to the core with filth and shame, when we turn to him in faith. Allowing that transformation is hard. It means surrendering to light that which has been hidden in darkness. But our transformation can bring nourishment rather than rot. When we are so broken we allow ourselves to be changed –that very brokenness becomes a blessing in the lives around us. There is no greater witness to redemption than a transformed life.

There are so many scriptural references that can be used here, but I like Ephesians 5:1-20 and these verses in particular...

"For though your hearts were once full of darkness, now you are full of light from the Lord, and your behavior should show it! For this light within you produces only what is good and right and true..." Ephesians 5:8,9

What is best...

I weeded the garden today. It was an arduous task. Not simply because of the weeds that have staked a claim in every inch of unoccupied soil after the blessed rains – but because of all of the good plants. Weeds are easy enough to identify and mark as unwanted. It is the “good plants” or the volunteers, as my grandma called them, which try me. A volunteer is a plant that regenerates the following year that wasn’t intentionally sown. They’re quite random, appearing in places most unsuitable. Last year we had a bountiful crop of tomatoes. It was beyond bountiful – it was overabundant. We could not eat, preserve or gift them fast enough. As a result, some of the fruit fell to the ground. The soil was tilled - the seed was scattered – and now there are volunteers throughout the garden.

Hundreds of beautiful tomato plants are growing in the rows of beans, peas, carrots, onions, squash. They had grown so well that I could no longer discern what was planted through the tomatoes. Again they flourished, this time to the detriment of everything else I planted. You see, I had already given half of my garden to planting tomatoes…and with the help of my volunteers, the entire plot had been overtaken. Up until today, I left them there. Because a tomato plant is a good plant. I didn’t have the heart to uproot it. But my garden was meant to be more than tomatoes, even though tomatoes are good. As I carefully weeded around the neat rows and the random tomatoes, I remembered a verse of scripture about choosing what is best. You see, keeping everything good in my garden was choking out what was best. In a row of carrots, carrots are best, no matter how good a tomato might be. When I commit to planting carrots, my aim should be to harvest carrots.

This is not the first time I have encountered this lesson on the farm. At one time we kept both Soay and Icelandic sheep. I loved them both. Both had qualities that not only made them suitable, but endearing to me. I did not want to ask the question “which is best?” because I did not want to choose. Keeping them both cost me dearly. The flocks could run together for the most part of the year, but breeding season presented many challenges, which I could have avoided entirely, had I made a choice. As does happen, one of my best rams escaped his pen, and covered ewes that had not been assigned to him. Not just any ewes. The Grand Champion ewes, which were to have been bred to the Grand Champion ram. Rather than the outstanding lambs we anticipated, we reaped a harvest of crossbred lambs, as the ram was not only unassigned, he was not the same breed as the ewes. The lambs are good lambs, but they are not a faithful representation of either breed. They are not authentic. They can never be the best for the purposes their parents were bred for. The same is true of us when we refuse to choose…we are only a half-hearted servant of either cause.

Making a choice is always difficult, for when we commit to one thing, we must, at the same time, say no to the other options – even if they are good. It is only by honoring a commitment in this way, that we can truly have what is best. So often in life, we are overwhelmed as my garden was, by allowing everything that is good, rather than focusing what is best. Good things clutter up our lives and our calendars – leaving little time or energy for that which is best. We soon find ourselves inadequate to fulfill any of the tasks set before us. Our limited energy and resources are spread so thin, that nothing we do is done well. No one is well-served when we try to have it all or be it all. We become discouraged…all because we lacked the courage to make a choice.

There are many decisions before us in a day. So many questions and opportunities…but we should not be asking ourselves “is this a good thing?” but rather, “is this best?” Is this the best of what is available to me now? Is this the best time, or would it be better to wait? Is this the best place, or should it be elsewhere? Is this the best use of my time, or is there something else I should be giving myself to? Is this the best use of my talent? Is this the best way to say what needs to be said? We must have the courage to commit to what is best, and focus our energies on those things...

With regret, I have pulled and placed my lovely volunteers on the compost pile. Choosing is not easy. Now there are empty spaces between the rows and between the plants. Healthy empty spaces that give them room to grow, seek the sun, extend their roots and draw nourishment from the unobstructed soil around them. Restful places. These empty places will be covered with mulch to protect them, so that nothing takes root there to draw away from or overshadow the young plants.

In order for us to be our best, we need to do the same with the cares and preoccupations of this world. What do you aim to harvest from this life? What have you committed to?

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ--to the glory and praise of God. Philippians 1:9-11

Notso...

You always hope that if you have an audience for lambing, everything will go smoothly: an easy delivery,
a vigorous lamb, an attentive mother.
After all – Icelandic sheep are famous for it!

But it was not so this weekend.

We were happy to share our farm with a friend and her dear friend who was visiting from out of state, and arrived to find a ewe in labor. The ewe was not progressing. We aren’t sure how long she had been in that condition, as we had been away from the farm for the afternoon.

It took intervention to deliver the baby. The lamb needed to be pulled and was having difficulty breathing as it had inhaled quite a bit of fluid in the trauma of birth. Our full arsenal of shepherding skills was demonstrated to our visitors – suctioning, brisk rubbing, nostril puffing, blowdrying (with a hairdryer!), and lamb swinging – everything we felt comfortable doing when resuscitating a lamb. The most difficult skill we have yet to perfect: knowing when enough is enough, that we are not in control of who lives, and who dies. He would pink, and then he would blue, he would pink again, and then blue. Finally it came to the point where I had to lay him down – my big beautiful ram lamb, whose birth I had anticipated for five months – and walk away, saying “I have done what I can do. Nature and mama must do the rest.”

Today we have a healthy lamb – a strong ENORMOUS lamb…not so bad after a not so good start. We gave the privilege of naming him to our farm visitor who had watched his birth. The only criteria for naming was that the name begin with “N” which identifies all of our 2009 babies.

Welcome “Notso”, a very clever name for a little lamb

who was not so sure whether to live or die on the farm.

"To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven:
A time to be born, And a time to die..." Ecclesiastes 3:1,2

Blood Brothers

Twice a year our boys go through bouts of head slamming, raging headaches, nose bleeds, aching limbs, and wounded egos. We patch up the battered and bruised and try again to effect a peaceful family reunion.
It doesn’t really seem to matter how many times the boys have met – or under what circumstances. There is always a score to settle. Not a personal grievance or memorable offense – just a score. There is something about testosterone that just makes the boys, well…testy. They test their strength, they test their boundaries, and they test the limits of my patience!
As their shepherd, it grieves me to see them bleed. I want to keep them from pain, I want to prevent any conflict between them that could ever arise. Doing so would go completely against their nature. It just isn't possible. The fights will occur, it is their way of communicating and establishing order. It is the same with us, and with our children - in order to find our place in this world, sometimes we have to experience being out of place - and the pain of being put back in it!
We’ve tried reuniting the boys in spaces too tight for them to move. We’ve reunited them around obstacles to prevent them from getting a running start at each other. We’ve reunited them in wide open spaces – big enough to avoid each other completely. We’ve reunited them fully hungry with a banquet of food spread out around them. We’ve taken well-meaning counsel to “anoint their heads with peppermint oil” so they couldn’t scent one another…which resulted in a fragrant battle between bloody candy canes.

Regardless of the efforts we’ve made to ensure peace, it seems that there is truth to the adage “boys will be boys.” There is no reunion without blood. Once sufficient blood is shed, and everyone is knocked practically senseless, the rams get on with the business of life in the bachelor flock: eating, drinking and lounging in the sun. They enjoy a peaceful camaraderie (likely brought about by trauma-induced amnesia)…at least until summer ends, and fall returns. They notice a ewe on a distant hillside, remember that they are indeed boys...and the battle resumes.
Facts from bioweb:
The battle between rams is intense. The two males rush at each other at a combined speed of 40mph, lower their heads, and clash with a force of 2400 pounds! The impact causes their hind legs to lift off the ground and the sound to echo for over a mile. They may charge one another on their hind legs or on all fours. The thickness of the skull and density of their horns, prevents serious brain damage from occurring. The osteocytes of the skull are spaced apart and act as a cushion for the blow. The endurance of these magnificent animals is parallel only to that of a machine. These battles can last for over 20 hours, stopping only to feed or regain comprehension. A male loses when he walks away from the fight or simply does not charge, but is not outcast. Instead, he must accept his role amongst the herd.

Sheep Shells

Just before Thanksgiving, I was blessed with a small flock of Icelandic sheep – a new bloodline to add to my existing flock. They are absolutely gorgeous! That is, I knew they would be absolutely gorgeous underneath the thick armored plates of matted, filthy wool. I don’t know how long it had been since they were shorn – or if they had ever been shorn.

They were fairly wild – having been allowed the freedom to roam through vast acres of woodland. They had little experience of a shepherd’s touch or voice. They were unaccustomed to being led, and would not follow of their own accord – so moving them was quite a challenge. They were lured over a period of days and finally trapped in a shed. Catching them in the shed was simple enough – as they panicked they drove themselves into a corner – making it difficult for any of them to escape. Thankfully, their captor (me) was friendly.

Within a few hours, we had them penned in a stall in our barn, in quarantine. It grieved me to see them in that condition. It was all I could do to hold back the shears and allow them to settle in before attempting to remove the fleece a few days later. Once they found the stall safe, the food ample and my voice familiar we mustered our courage and determined it was time to get to work.

Equipped with a couple of dematting tools and my daughter – the designated sheep holder – we were ready to begin, believing that we would simply comb them out. The moment we laid hands on them it was painfully clear that we had underestimated the task. Our fingers could not penetrate the felted wool to the sheep beneath. I grabbed scissors from the tack stall and attempted to cut through the dense folds to no avail.

As we examined them, we saw that near their joints, there were shallow creases that I could work the scissors into. I felt like I was prying oyster shells to find the pearls inside! Once the plates were split – the arduous task of trimming the hair underneath could begin. It was amazing how heavy the plates were! One sheep had a felted roll around her neck that had taken the shape and thickness of a tractor tire. It had attached itself to the plates along her sides – making them impossible to remove. The scissors would not penetrate the “tire” and it would not pull over her head sweater-style. I resorted to the hoof shears and snipped my way through – an eighth of an inch at a time. When I made the last cut, the collar burst open with an amazing release of pressure. What it must have felt like to this sheep to be freed from a noose of felted wool! Not only was it extremely heavy, but it had grown increasingly close to her skin, interfering with her movement, and constricting her neck, as felted wool has no stretch.

I was astounded by the behavior of one sheep in particular. She had resisted being caught and held, and it was everything my daughter could do to restrain her. Despite my best efforts, there was no hurrying the process. Each hair had to be cut blindly working the scissors underneath the mat, without catching the tender skin of the sheep. We were halfway through one side, feeling the weight of the mat and trying to support it and cut as it was freed from her – when she knelt – and then completely surrendered, laying in my daughter’s lap. The pain from the hanging plates of wool eased, and the tension that the three of us felt vanished. She was no longer struggling and being restrained, but was peacefully resting, completely submitting to our care. What a difference it made.

The Bible teaches in parables and compares us to sheep. And how like sheep we are! We find ourselves in the most trying predicaments and allow ourselves to be reduced to the most pathetic conditions, because for as independent as we think we are, we can be quite helpless. There was nothing the sheep could do to improve their unfortunate circumstances, until a shepherd came to care for them. Thankfully there is also a God who loves us too much to leave us the way he finds us, and has given us a Shepherd.

I found myself thinking of this verse from the Bible, as I clipped though the tangled mats:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Hebrews 12:1

How like sin those mats are! A couple of hairs get crossed and tangle, then a few more get involved, and before long it is difficult to see one from another, and soon there is a mat. No longer can it be combed out or untangled – it must be cut free for the sheep to move freely again. Sins have a way of accumulating in much the same fashion – one to cover up for another. Without repentance, or turning away from the sin, we are doomed to repeat it. Once we become ensnared by sin, we too forget what it is like to move freely. We are caught in our shame and regret – covered with a seemingly impenetrable armor like the mats on sheep. We start to believe the lie that tells us that because we have failed, we are a failure, and there is a weight upon us.

Thankfully God doesn’t see us through human eyes, but through the eyes of love – in Christ – our Good Shepherd. If we will submit to his leading, and yield to his care, he will tenderly shear the sin and shame from our lives. Just like my sheep, we can be made new! The beautiful creation we were meant to be can be redeemed and liberated in forgiveness…we can have new identities in Christ, made whole and perfect and presentable to God.

If anyone is in Christ he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.
2 Corinthians 5:17