One day, when I was about eight years old, our family of eight was visiting my dad's mom and dad on their five-acre hobby farm. We would often take the hour-long drive to Grandpa's and Grandma's after church on Sunday to play on the farm and eat dinner together.
That sunny Sunday afternoon, grandpa took my brother David and me out to the pasture behind their home to introduce us to his sheep. There were about a half dozen ewes and one ram, who eyed us very cautiously.
I was surprised that, even though the sheep looked like identical sextuplets, grandpa knew each of them by name. I remember one in particular - her name was Molly. Grandpa commented, with a smile, that Molly was his most rebellious sheep.
"Why's that grandpa?" my brother asked.
"Because two times she has run away! Even though she has all the green grass she'll ever need, a big red barn to keep her safe and dry in the winter weather, and the love and care of Grandma and me, she has an independent streak in her."
"Just last week again, Molly dug a trench under the white fence I put up to protect her and crawled outside to our neighbour's farm. Thankfully, Mr. Johnson found her and brought her back."
As grandpa was telling us about Molly, she looked up at him and "baa'd" so innocently.
A couple of months later, we were back at the farm. It was raining that day so we sat around the living room playing Chinese checkers and when it was time, watched Lassie on their new black-and-white television.
At dinner, the nine of us sat down to eat (Grandma never sat - we couldn't stop her from running back and forth from the kitchen to the big table in her dining room, serving us).
"By the way, grandpa," I queried while shoving my mouth full of mashed potatoes and meat, "how's Molly doing? Has she learned to be a good sheep yet?"
"No, Molly was not willing to obey the rules. She ran away a third time a couple of weeks ago. As a matter of fact, Barry, we're eating her right now."
I guess that's why our Creator refers, in his handbook on life, to us humans as sheep. Isaiah penned the words.
We're all like sheep who've wandered off and got lost. We've all done our own thing, gone our own way.
There's something inherently broken in all of us. I often think of it when Susan and I go to Safeway and I push the shopping cart. It seems that I always get the buggy that has a bad wheel. "Sorry ma'am. I didn't mean to run into you."
Once we learn that the safest place to live is in the love and protection of the Shepherd, we can begin to find ourselves and fulfill our life purpose.
Barry Buzza (barrybuzza.blogspot.com) is senior pastor at Northside church in Coquitlam and Port Coquitlam.
