The shepherd and his lamb
El-adonai sighed, his face taut with frustration as he once more attempted to extricate the little lamb from the thorny bush. How long had he spent here already? 1, 2, 3 hours? He shrugged to himself. It just defied comprehension, how that little bleater managed to get himself into trouble every time his back was turned. The lamb's irrepressible penchant for mischief had prompted El-adonai to dub him Orep, meaning “stiff-necked” in his native Hebrew, for he had been forced to bail him out not a few times. Orep simply refused to lay still so that he could gently extract him from the thorny hedge he had fallen into off a short cliff.
A wry smile softened the sun-hardened leather of the old shepherd’s face. He remembered the first day Orep found his tiny feet could carry him places. In a matter of minutes after his first quivering step, El-adonai had had to unceremoniously yank him back from the edge of a small cliff. Little Orep had been chasing a pretty little butterfly.
The other lambs in the flock had since learned to heed the old shepherd’s steady, quiet call. They had learned that listening to him kept them away from the frightening beasts that prowled the edges of the hills where they grazed. Listening to him and following his gnarled staff meant that the grass that they ate was always more tender, the shoots juicier, the waters calmer. And they were content.
But Orep was different from the rest. He was a born prodigal. Stiff-necked he certainly was. He simply refused to listen. He seemed to delight in waiting for the last possible moment to scamper into the safety of the flock before ben-Adoni, the old shepherd’s young son, came close enough to do more than wave his staff furiously in the air at him. Then he would peek from behind one of the more placid ewes, his little black eyes dancing in mischievous delight as taunted the young shepherd, glorying in yet another successful escape from his reproving blows. The old shepherd’s gnarled staff had found the stiff neck of the little mischief many more times, perhaps, than all the other lambs put together.
Orep let out a weak bleat, his nostrils heaving and his little mouth foaming, as he feebly strained against the thick shrub of thorns that imprisoned him. El-adonai sighed again and once more attempted to reach into the thick shrub for him. Seeing his approaching hands, the lamb, with a sudden burst of energy, began to struggle violently. The old shepherd drew his arm back with a sharp cry of pain as the lamb knocked his arm, deeply grazing it against the thorns in the thicket.
Images of the dreadful lion flooded his memory as he grabbed his bleeding arm. He shut his eyes, and he was running again, furiously running, searching for the source of the frantic cries of little Orep. El-adonai had allowed himself a moment’s slumber that afternoon, giving an irresistible opportunity for the mischievous lamb to wander off, this time in pursuit of a terrified dragonfly. His young legs brought him over the gentle slopes, into the forest, straight into the jaws of a ravenous young lion.
El-adonai paid a high price for the salvation of Orep that day. The scars of that fearsome struggle with the lion he still bore, a continual reminder of the depth of his love for his flock.
But still the stubborn little lamb would not learn. Again and again, the old shepherd reproved him, patiently called him with the rest of the flock each time, gently guiding and leading him with his gnarled staff. Again and again, little Orep had to be delivered from the thorny bush, the starving dog, the baying wolves. Again and again, the gnarled staff came down upon his stiff little neck. When would he ever learn?
Today had been all too familiar. The lamb had bolted at the first opportunity, again during the sweltering heat of mid-day, when El-adonai was leading the flock to the quiet stream not too far into the forest for a refreshing drink and wash. Now here he was, stuck in a thorny brush, just under the shoulder of a small cliff he fell over while chasing yet another of his fantastic playmates.
The old shepherd had borne this long enough. He gritted his teeth, thrust his arm again into the thicket, ignoring the protesting screams of his fresh wounds, and took firm hold of little Orep’s stiff neck. “This ends now. Out you come, little one”.
In one swift motion, he wrenched the frightened and weary lamb from the cruel clutches of the thorny brush. Little Orep yelped with pain, for the thorns tore at his flesh as he pulled. Panting and foaming at the mouth, Orep lay helpless at the feet of the old shepherd.
“You leave me no choice, little lamb. Your disobedience is very costly, for me, for the flock, and for yourself. Your rebellious legs will have to be broken, until such a time as you have learned to heed my voice. But first, these wounds have to be bound.”
Reaching down his leathery hands, the old shepherd scooped up little Orep and gently slung him over his broad shoulders. With firm, steady strides, El-adonai made his way back to the stream, where ben-Adoni was keeping watch over the rest of the flock.
Little Orep lay still, safely slung over the broad shoulders of the old shepherd.
“When will you learn, little one? When will you ever learn?”
Back at the stream, the old shepherd lovingly washed and bound the wounds of the little lamb. The time had come for little Orep to learn to love, to trust, and to obey him.
With a heavy heart, the old shepherd swiftly and surely broke the legs of the little lamb, willing himself to ignore his pained cries. And then, just as gently, just as slowly, he bound the broken legs of little Orep and once again lifted him up and slung him over his broad shoulders. There little Orep would stay until his legs healed, until he knew the love of the old shepherd. There he would learn how much he needed the old shepherd, and there he would learn to hear, to recognize, to love, and to obey his steady, quiet voice.
El-adonai quietly began to feed the little lamb on his shoulder.
" The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever. " - Psalm 23
“He shall feed his flock like a shepherd: he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young.” – Isaiah 40:11
“ I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep. But he that is an hireling, and not the shepherd, whose own the sheep are not, seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep, and fleeth: and the wolf catcheth them, and scattereth the sheep. The hireling fleeth, because he is an hireling, and careth not for the sheep. I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep , and am known of mine. As the Father knoweth me, even so know I the Father: and I lay down my life for the sheep.” – John10:11-15
"For though He wounds, He also bandages. He strikes, but His hands also heal. He will rescue you again and again so that no evil can touch you." - Job 5:18-19
A wry smile softened the sun-hardened leather of the old shepherd’s face. He remembered the first day Orep found his tiny feet could carry him places. In a matter of minutes after his first quivering step, El-adonai had had to unceremoniously yank him back from the edge of a small cliff. Little Orep had been chasing a pretty little butterfly.
The other lambs in the flock had since learned to heed the old shepherd’s steady, quiet call. They had learned that listening to him kept them away from the frightening beasts that prowled the edges of the hills where they grazed. Listening to him and following his gnarled staff meant that the grass that they ate was always more tender, the shoots juicier, the waters calmer. And they were content.
But Orep was different from the rest. He was a born prodigal. Stiff-necked he certainly was. He simply refused to listen. He seemed to delight in waiting for the last possible moment to scamper into the safety of the flock before ben-Adoni, the old shepherd’s young son, came close enough to do more than wave his staff furiously in the air at him. Then he would peek from behind one of the more placid ewes, his little black eyes dancing in mischievous delight as taunted the young shepherd, glorying in yet another successful escape from his reproving blows. The old shepherd’s gnarled staff had found the stiff neck of the little mischief many more times, perhaps, than all the other lambs put together.
Orep let out a weak bleat, his nostrils heaving and his little mouth foaming, as he feebly strained against the thick shrub of thorns that imprisoned him. El-adonai sighed again and once more attempted to reach into the thick shrub for him. Seeing his approaching hands, the lamb, with a sudden burst of energy, began to struggle violently. The old shepherd drew his arm back with a sharp cry of pain as the lamb knocked his arm, deeply grazing it against the thorns in the thicket.
Images of the dreadful lion flooded his memory as he grabbed his bleeding arm. He shut his eyes, and he was running again, furiously running, searching for the source of the frantic cries of little Orep. El-adonai had allowed himself a moment’s slumber that afternoon, giving an irresistible opportunity for the mischievous lamb to wander off, this time in pursuit of a terrified dragonfly. His young legs brought him over the gentle slopes, into the forest, straight into the jaws of a ravenous young lion.
El-adonai paid a high price for the salvation of Orep that day. The scars of that fearsome struggle with the lion he still bore, a continual reminder of the depth of his love for his flock.
But still the stubborn little lamb would not learn. Again and again, the old shepherd reproved him, patiently called him with the rest of the flock each time, gently guiding and leading him with his gnarled staff. Again and again, little Orep had to be delivered from the thorny bush, the starving dog, the baying wolves. Again and again, the gnarled staff came down upon his stiff little neck. When would he ever learn?
Today had been all too familiar. The lamb had bolted at the first opportunity, again during the sweltering heat of mid-day, when El-adonai was leading the flock to the quiet stream not too far into the forest for a refreshing drink and wash. Now here he was, stuck in a thorny brush, just under the shoulder of a small cliff he fell over while chasing yet another of his fantastic playmates.
The old shepherd had borne this long enough. He gritted his teeth, thrust his arm again into the thicket, ignoring the protesting screams of his fresh wounds, and took firm hold of little Orep’s stiff neck. “This ends now. Out you come, little one”.
In one swift motion, he wrenched the frightened and weary lamb from the cruel clutches of the thorny brush. Little Orep yelped with pain, for the thorns tore at his flesh as he pulled. Panting and foaming at the mouth, Orep lay helpless at the feet of the old shepherd.
“You leave me no choice, little lamb. Your disobedience is very costly, for me, for the flock, and for yourself. Your rebellious legs will have to be broken, until such a time as you have learned to heed my voice. But first, these wounds have to be bound.”
Reaching down his leathery hands, the old shepherd scooped up little Orep and gently slung him over his broad shoulders. With firm, steady strides, El-adonai made his way back to the stream, where ben-Adoni was keeping watch over the rest of the flock.
Little Orep lay still, safely slung over the broad shoulders of the old shepherd.
“When will you learn, little one? When will you ever learn?”
Back at the stream, the old shepherd lovingly washed and bound the wounds of the little lamb. The time had come for little Orep to learn to love, to trust, and to obey him.
With a heavy heart, the old shepherd swiftly and surely broke the legs of the little lamb, willing himself to ignore his pained cries. And then, just as gently, just as slowly, he bound the broken legs of little Orep and once again lifted him up and slung him over his broad shoulders. There little Orep would stay until his legs healed, until he knew the love of the old shepherd. There he would learn how much he needed the old shepherd, and there he would learn to hear, to recognize, to love, and to obey his steady, quiet voice.
El-adonai quietly began to feed the little lamb on his shoulder.
" The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever. " - Psalm 23
“He shall feed his flock like a shepherd: he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young.” – Isaiah 40:11
“ I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep. But he that is an hireling, and not the shepherd, whose own the sheep are not, seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep, and fleeth: and the wolf catcheth them, and scattereth the sheep. The hireling fleeth, because he is an hireling, and careth not for the sheep. I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep , and am known of mine. As the Father knoweth me, even so know I the Father: and I lay down my life for the sheep.” – John10:11-15
"For though He wounds, He also bandages. He strikes, but His hands also heal. He will rescue you again and again so that no evil can touch you." - Job 5:18-19
posted by Joel Chan at
6:29 AM
1 Comments:
I'm amazed at your ability to paint a picture with words. Keep up the good work.
By
Anonymous, at 4:59 AM
Post a Comment
<< Home