5 Reasons To Stop the Denominational Dance

How many of us who claim adherence to a Protestant denomination have consciously questioned the following: which denomination is the best? More to the point, which denomination is right?

If an audible gasp is your reaction to the audacity of such a question, please allow me to follow up. Doesn't it stand to reason that with so many (dozens of major Protestant denominations) don't some by inherently have to be better than others? And if some are better than others, does it not stand to reason that one of those is best of all? If not, then why are there so many divisions among Protestant churches? Are we all simply to believe that adherence to a particular denomination rests solely on the music used in worship or the decor within the church building?

At the core of each of us that affirms Protestantism is the belief, be it conscious or subconscious, that the particular denomination we attend has some degree of superiority, however small, over the others. If that were not the case, why would we associate with that particular denomination?

Which leads to an unavoidable problem. If, by the fact that I choose one denomination over another, I am saying that my denomination is somehow superior, then does that insist that the others are by definition inferior. And if they are inferior, are they then not somehow heretical? For it must stand to reason that if one denomination is even infinitesimally superior to another, then it is closer to the truth of God, and all others miss the truth of God by even that much.

Such reasoning illustrates why I have tired of what I call the denominational dance. This is my euphemism for denominational comparisons, infighting and backbiting. It seems that no matter how far we progress through the centuries as a Christian family, there is no shortage of man-made ideals within the community to pull us farther away from Christ.

But it doesn't have to be that way. The truth is, denominational differences do more to isolate us from Christ and other believers than they do to bring us together. So it is for the following five reasons I call for a return to the truth of Scripture as the basis for our Christian faith and not the labels of factions we so like to tout.

1. Martin Luther was never trying to create his own sect.

Some will point to Martin Luther and "Look! You say you don't want denominations yet the very man who began your protestant reformation did just that!" This line of thinking is missing Luther's point. It was never his desire to create something new and apart from Scripture. In fact, he was a devout catholic priest, who by all accounts wished to remain as such. Yet it was his acknowledgement and disgust of the manner that Scripture was being twisted and eviscerated by his contemporaries that made Luther desire a return to the truth. His fellow Catholics veered so far away from the truth in the form of indulgences, works related salvation and other falsehoods that Luther's consciousness could do nothing but oppose them. The term Protestantism comes from the fact that Luther protested these wrongs, but in reality what he wanted to see was a return to Scriptural truth, accuracy and authority. The newness he desired was not that of his own making but that which was found in the Gospels and Acts.

2. Do you follow Paul? Do you follow Apollos?

1 Corinthians 3:4-5 shows Paul's opinion on the denominational dance. He shows the folly when one would boast in saying "I follow Paul" or "I follow Apollos". Today we can equate that to saying "I follow Luther" or "I follow Calvin" or "I follow Wesley". As Paul pointed out, are these not all mere men? And as men, are we so foolish as to put our faith in them and what they say? As Paul states, these are only servants. Our faith and trust are to be placed in the only one deserving of that faith and trust, and that is in Jesus Christ. To delineate ourselves among men is to draw away from the truth in Christ.

3. But I like only a particular style of music and preaching.

Perhaps you insist on a denomination because of the style of music or preaching that. Through years of experience I can attest that rarely will you find the same music style in an Episcopalian service as you will in an AME service as you will in a Baptist service. But is music and preaching style really worth tearing ourselves apart from others in the body of Christ? I say enjoy the music and preaching style you enjoy, but do not make the mistake of believing you cannot praise God and receive from His word given an alternate form of service. Even as Paul made his trips through the various churches he encountered a variety of styles. Yet that was never reason enough for him to bring to bear a new name and doctrinal statement apart from following Christ

4. But how will we tell what the people believe?

In the early church there were believers being brought into the fold all around the known world. These believers put their faith in Christ and spread that news to others. At times, these churches would begin down the wrong path (see the Corinthians and Galatians), and it was then that Paul would circulate his letters to bring those churches back into the fold. But at no time are we told that one congregation was superior than another based on its faith. As long as the people put their faith in Christ there was nothing greater. That is the way it should be today. As long as we put our faith in Christ, we are all equal under His authority. We are all Christians.

5. The truth of Scripture is not as difficult as some make it seem.

This is not to say that there are not issues we will all struggle with in Scripture. There are, and will be, aspects we struggle through, and angles of God we will never fully understand. But the basic truths of Scripture are undeniable. And this does not rest solely with the understanding that salvation comes through faith in Jesus Christ. There is a long list of very clear and understandable truths laid out in scripture. Those truly debatable points do not lead to salvational crisis, and truthfully, are not worthy of dividing ourselves from one another.

In the end there will be unity under Christ. Denominations will fall and there will be one King over all believers. Until then, it would be a nice slice of heaven to do away with the denominational dance and unite under the banner of Christ.      

Are You Frustrated?

Just the other day I was asked a simply compelling question.

Do you ever get frustrated?

I had to think for a moment. No, not because I can't remember if I ever get frustrated. I get frustrated, angry, annoyed, discombobulated, out-of-sorts, reticent and fed up. I can list examples of each and examples for those examples, indicating just when and where I have allowed the cold embrace of each to direct my actions. Experiencing those feelings was not the issue.

What I was reluctant to do was admit to those feelings. As a Christian, as a pastor, were such human emotions allowed to spring forth and even more importantly to which I should admit?

Of course they are. But in many circles today it is expected that such feelings should be squelched. Push them down as far as you can until they have to look up to see the sole of your show, then never, ever admit to such evil desires! To which I say poppycock. Or pish-posh. Or ridiculous. Pick your generational favorite.

Frustration, anger and all the others are natural human emotions. It is not for us to be required to live in their total absence. They will pop up from time to time. Admitting to their existence is no crime. God does not want us to exist as robots with no emotions. But He does tell us what to do when such emotions become overwhelming.

1 Peter 5:7 gives us those instructions. "Cast all your anxiety upon him because he cares about you" (NIV). Take out anxiety and replace it with any of the other words. Frustration. Annoyance. Anger. God does not expect us to be perfect in our emotions. He does expect us to know what to do with them.

So yes, I have gotten frustrated. I have been frustrated time and again. But I have learned that in those times of frustration is when I need to call out to God. I call out to Him and beg Him to cover that frustration with His grace. And He has never failed to provide.   

Because I Said So

Because I said so.

How many of us heard that as children - or even adults - and wondered to ourselves "what kind of explanation is that?" The response might have befuddled us yet we had no recourse from lack of age or experience, and took it for what it was meant to be - an order and an end to the conversation.

From a human perspective this answer can be quite frustrating. "Because I said so" does not quell the litany of questions that arise. "Who are you and what are your qualifications to make such a proclamation?", "Is there special insight that you have that I don't?" and "Do you have the power to enforce this reasoning once you've made it?" are just a few.

Now when it comes to parents and children, for the most part we can reconcile that the parent have (or at least should have) more knowledge, common sense and experience to make the proper informed decision that is best. Again, this is a generality - there are always exceptions that prove the rule. But what about when a peer gives this reasoning? Are we not more inclined to raise an eyebrow at that person, questioning both their reasoning and their opinion of whom they directed their comments? It is safe to conclude that when presented with such rationale we find it hard to converse again with such obvious stubbornness.

But what if God used such reasoning? Why would do that you may ask? Well, one look no further than Job to find such an occurrence. After torment and terror was rained down on this righteous man, and after all manner of friends had come by to try and support this stricken fellow, Job threw up his arms and shot questions at God that demanded answers.

"Why, why, why?!?" was hurled at the one Job counted on for understanding.

And you know what the answer was? "Because I said so."

Ok, so it wasn't put so clumsily. But that was the spirit of the response. God laid out to Job that the reason all this happened was God's to understand. There was not going to be a point by point explanation that satisfied Job. Instead, God rightfully expressed that Job was not going to understand. God knew best and Job was going to have to accept that and be settled. Like a parent to their child, "because I said so" was going to have to suffice.

But unlike a parent to their child, or a peer to a peer, "because I said so" from God more than suffices. Why? Because unlike fallible humans, we can rely on that fact that God does not make mistakes. We can know in our hearts that He is infinitely smarter, clearer and more righteous than we could ever be, and in that we can rest. God has taken care of everything in the past, takes care of everything now, and will continue to take care of everything into the future. There is a totality to His rule and a universal reach to His love. We may not get the answer we like, and we may very well not like that we can't understand, but we do know that there is one who does.

From the lips of man "because I said so," can ring hollow. But from the voice of God there can be nothing more comforting.  

Gains and Losses

Every decision leads to unmistakable repercussions that can be measured in gains and losses. When a baby is born, he or she gains access to a world of possibilities but loses the warmth and protection found in the womb. When a child goes to school for the first time, they gain exposure to many friends they might never otherwise have met, but lose the security that came with being comfortable in known surroundings. When a person gets married, they gain the support and unity from another that was absent in solitude but lose the ability to live without burden.

But counting our gains against our losses does not always tell the whole story. This is especially true when ignoring God.  Adam in Eve found this truth no later than a blink in the timeline of creation. Their first major decision, absent from the direction and blessing of God, provided them with a myriad of gains and losses. We can see that decision in Genesis 3:6-7.

When the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was desirable to make one wise, she took from its fruit and ate; and she gave also to her husband with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loin coverings.

Adam and Eve chose to ignore God’s command and subsequently sin entered the world. What they discovered was that their eyes were opened and they understood perfectly what they were losing and what they would gain.

Adam and Eve lost much when they ate the fruit. They lost peace with each other and peace with God. They lost harmony, agreement, accord, order, unanimity, and tranquility. They lost joy in their untroubled lives. No longer were there jubilance, mirth, revelry, delight and cheer aplenty when walking in the garden.  They knew that they were naked and were not content. They were not happy, blissful, merry, cheerful or thrilled in their current state. The lost their carefree nature. They lost themselves.

But there can be no disagreement that they acquired much as well! When Adam and Eve followed their own path there was heaped upon them a multitude of gains. They were the recipients of shame in their nakedness. The proceeds of Adam and Eve’s decision were contempt, degradation, derision, dishonor, guilt, humiliation, infamy, irritation and remorse. Adam and Eve for the first time found sadness in waves unimaginable. They were bereaved, bitter, dejected, despairing, despondent, distressed, forlorn, grieved, heartbroken, languishing, pensive, troubled, and sorrowful. They would later hide from God because they had discovered fear. They were filled with anxiety, agitation, consternation, despair, dismay, distress, doubt, dread, panic, revulsion, terror, trembling trepidation and worry. To their already full bag they also had swirling confusion. Like most of us they for the first time felt bewilderment, chagrin, demoralization, distraction, embarrassment, fluster, tumult, turbulence and turmoil. Adam and Eve gained more than they ever imagined.

Gains and losses. It may seem like a simple case of addition and subtraction. But be careful, because as Adam and Eve found out, not every choice has an upside.

Winds of Change

My body lay crumpled in the corner. I was crying. I was dying.

Of course it wasn’t meant to end that way. It was a common story, really. I was only trying to prove a simple truth. Yet when left to my own desires and no boundaries I proved the only thing I was capable of proving. There was nothing in me of any value.

It started sincerely enough. I was listening to a prominent fellow of great worldly recognition (whose name I have long since forgotten) speak on the origins of the universe. His propositions appeared reasonable and rationale, filled with haughty jargon well beyond my mind, and wrapped up with a succinct and satisfying conclusion. The universe, as well as the earth and its inhabitants, was born from a coalescence of fortunate, if random, occurrences. To put it in terms I could understand, this wise mind offered the illustration that given an infinite amount time and opportunity, wind gusting through the open doors and windows of a house could make a messy room clean and organized.

That’s when inspiration struck! I had been so burdened in my life with people around me who insisted that the universe was created by some grand scheme and designer that it was more than I could bear. Now I had been touched with the perfect way to prove them all wrong.

Now I didn’t live in a particularly windy region, nor did I have power over the air myself, but I did have the next best thing: my gleaming red and black 12,000 horse power leaf blower extraordinaire! (Ok, a bit of an exaggeration on the horsepower, but enough to get the job done). I was also fortunate enough to have a particularly messy room in the back of my house, one filled with papers and knick knacks strewn about, sprinkled with rubbish from the past few days.

I could hardly contain myself as I raced home to prove the theory. I opened every window of that offending room, strapped on my scientific instrument of choice, and cranked it up. A gentle whirring soon burst into a high pitched buzz, and the animal was belting out a storm of invisible fury at the mess inside. Papers and tiny forgotten items flew through the air, spinning and dancing, exuberant in their flight. I let the machines music play for half a minute before abruptly shutting it down. When the noise ceased I watched intently as the last remaining pieces floated to their final resting spots.

It was foolish to expect success on the first attempt. But that is just what I desired. When I looked around the room I found that things had not yet been perfected in their place. There were a few pieces of trash that ended up in the can, but more pieces of important documents ended there as well. I was soon gripped by reality and understood that all would not be proven on the first try.

So I ripped the blower again and swung the nozzle around the room. I pushed harder this time, feeling that earlier I was too passive, and this experiment needed more aggression. I flung the nozzle back and forth with determination. The wind whipped viciously about the room with no regard to friend or foe. I watched as all manner of debris swirled around my head. The orbiting objects became so dense that I was blinded to the room and shut down the machine. I squeezed my eyes close and hoped that a perfectly organized room would be my reward.

Once again I was disappointed. I scanned the room to find things in places where they clearly did not belong. Even trash that had been in the trashcan was now displaced. But what really caught my attention was a small porcelain figure, a white sheep that had been sitting on a shelf, now lay in pieces on floor. It had been evicted from its home and shattered on the unforgiving tile. This was going to cause a problem.

But I was not deterred. If anything I was invigorated. I was going to show just how right I was. Not only would my experiment yield a neat and tidy living space, but it was going to fix that which I had broken. (And if not, it would certainly somehow end up in the trash, and I could dismiss the destruction to user error.)

So I began with reckless abandon. I followed a pattern of running my blower for thirty seconds, shutting it down, and examining the results. Some tests were better than others, but each view was distinct. I was undeterred, buoyed by the fact that no two aftermaths were the same, and eventually I would hit upon the jackpot.

I became obsessed. I lost track of time. Day turned into night and back to day many times. Over and over I had to feed my machine and with each intrusion I got more frustrated at wasting time. I did not eat, drink, nor sleep. I was focused on a task that had to succeed.

That’s when the physical overcame me. It was during one of the rotations of darkness that I finally collapsed, slamming my head against the floor. I did not lose consciousness but in hindsight wish I had. For as I felt a thin stream of blood trickle down my face I heard soft footsteps approaching from the side. It was all I could do to throw off the machine and struggle to sit back against the wall. My breathing was heavy and my sight weak. Through blurred vision I saw a man come close and kneel down as he placed his hand on my forehead.

“Who are you?” I insisted.

“You are hurt,” he said calmly. “What are you trying to do?”

“I need to prove it,” I panted through the fog. “I need to prove how we came to be.”

“Curiosity is not a bad thing,” he replied gently as he tended my head. I tried to make out his face, but I couldn’t focus. “I can help you.”

“You can help?” I chuckled. “I’ve been at this for a long time. I don’t think you can help.”

“What is it you need?”

The question was stated so confidently that I had to ponder my response. I concluded it was folly to hope for anything from this stranger. He couldn’t give me what I really needed. So I tested him. “You really want to help me? Give me endless energy and an infinite amount of time. That’s what I really need.”

The man did not respond to my ludicrous request. He simply stood up and walked away. I tried to stand and follow him but collapsed against the wall. The night was silent and I cried out into the darkness for the man to return. There was only silence and finally I was overwhelmed by exhaustion.

Sometime later my eyes opened slowly to find that it was still dark. I groped around the room and came upon my blower lying next to me. I tried to stand and found that sleep did me better than I could have hoped. When I got to my feet I was filled with a strength I had not known for a very long time. My mind was clear and focused and I had a resolve that was beyond words. I looked around the room and smiled. The obsession was now under my control. I was going to win.

I flung my machine over my back and attacked the room. Over and over again I fought and failed. But I was not saddened or deterred. My strength was not leaving me and my mind was not failing. Night turned back into day and day back into night. But that seemed like an instant. The days and nights crowded together in a string that had no beginning or end. I did not grow weary, and my beast did not need refreshed, for we were on a mission. Time became insignificant as with each failure to produce a perfect room was met with intensity to make it work the next time. I refused to stop. I had a singular purpose.

If I knew how long I struggled I would hardly believe it. But the truth is I fought through my lifetime and many others. To my credit I never gave up those long years that turned into decades and beyond. I was so certain that I could prove the randomness of creation that I failed to see creation at all. The gift I was given to prove out my experiment was lost on me. Lost, that is, until it was finally taken away.

It was dark then, much as it had been long ago when I first met that man. Whatever generation of failure I was on finally laughed at me as I heard a great stroke of thunder pass overhead and rain begin to sprinkle on my head. I was inside, but the moisture I felt belied my sense of protection. Finally the rain became too much to ignore and I lifted my head to peer at the ceiling.

I gasped in horror at what I saw. As I gazed upward, rain pouring in my face, I noticed not a leak in my roof, but gaping holes in what I thought only moments before had been a sturdy structure. I looked around at the walls a ceiling too find that they too were lacking integrity. Windows were busted and drywall lay smashed on the ground. The wood frame was eaten by time and inattention. My house was crumbling around me.

I grabbed my chest and fell backwards. Reeling, I felt all my strength leave, and dropped my machine and crashed against the wall. That is why I was weeping.

How long had it been? Why had I been cursed so? The pain of defeat was worse than any physical malady I could conjure. I felt death approaching and nothing on which to grab hold. I was too weak to even take my own life if the opportunity arose.

But through the darkness and rain I saw a man. I thought my eyes deceived me, for it reminded me of the same man that long ago tended to my head. He approached me again in the same way, though now I was very afraid.

“What have you done?” I screamed. The man said nothing and stretched out his hand. “Please, don’t let me die,” I begged.

“Take my hand,” he replied. Reluctantly I grasped for it, and he lifted me to my feet. He led me around the house, and without saying a word, made me understand what had happened. My house lay in ruin, defeated not by man but by time, and outside all manner of nature had been reborn. I was surrounded by an army of trees, brush, vines and weeds that took advantage of my departure.

The man led me back to where we started. I surveyed the room. It too lay in ruin, and for too long I had been blind to its deterioration.

“All I wanted to do was prove our origin,” I said as I looked over at the man. “It was going to be a triumph.”

“But you did prove it,” the man said as he gestured to the shell of my home. “Don’t you see?”

My shoulders slumped. “All I see is a wasted life.”

The man shook his head. “No! You were given a gift. You had all the time, all the strength, all the determination you needed to prove how it all came together. And you did!”

“Ha!” I cried. “It was an abysmal failure!”

“Through random actions, over the course of infinite time, there was nothing intentional you could do,” the man said. He walked over near the remnants of a shelf and picked something off the ground. “But when things are done intentionally, with a purpose,” he said as he stretched out his hand and showed me the broken pieces of the white porcelain sheep I laid to waste long ago, “then order can be achieved.” The man closed his hand and placed upon a remnant of shelving my sheep, whole and new.

“How did you….?” I started, but before I got too far realization washed over me. I had proven how we came to be. It just wasn’t what I expected.

I fell to my knees before the man. “I am so sorry. I have wasted everything for a lie!”

“No,” he replied as he put his hand back on my head. “You have been given a gift. Go home now, and tell what you have learned.”

The tears the flowed from my eyes matched the intensity of the storm. “I am home and it is ruined. Everything is gone! I am lost!” The man pressed his hand hard against my head, and soon I felt a curtain of warmth flow over me. I slid into a deep sleep on the floor as rain massaged my body.

When I awoke the bright morning sun was flowing through my surprisingly fully functional window. This window was attached to the solid undisturbed frame of a complete house. I jumped up and looked around to find my room was filled with the same mess I remembered from the first day I set out to prove a lie.

 A smile crossed my face and heart. I was home. I walked around the room and began to gather things together and put them in their rightful spot. “With a true intention, and a true design, I will make this place in order again.”    

I did. When I was finished, I closed the doors and window, lest a rogue gust of wind pass through and disrupt everything.

The Good Shepherd

There is a sense of familiarity with the parable of the lost sheep. In this story, the Good Shepherd knows His sheep, and they His voice. He undoubtedly loves all in His flock. Yet when one goes astray, missing from the herd, the Good Shepherd risks all to bring that one back into the fold.

This is the undeniable truth of the Good Shepherd.

Yet as confident as we are in the knowledge of the desires of the Good Shepherd, are we aware that there is another shepherd roaming about? We can be blind to the deceitful actions of that other purveyor of flocks. How often we overlook the games of the imperfect shepherd who is focused on his own corrupt desires and oversees a flock that is blind to its own captivity.

It is the imperfect shepherd that must be brought to light. Christians are called to take up the mantle of the Good Shepherd and become locators of the lost. We must bring truth to them and give them an opportunity to understand. This is our greatest command and many are willing to search hard after the lost and bring them back into the fold.

But the lost are not always hidden among craggy cliffs or stuck in a thistle bush. All too often the lost are herded together in a flock that is under the watchful eye of the one who would have us fail. That is where I found myself one day, straddling the ledge of faithful services and the abyss of hopeless rejection.

I was traveling the narrow road, heeding the call to seek out the lost sheep and bring them to their rightful Shepherd. It had been some time since I started down that road, and in that time I had encountered many individual sheep, all of which heard but only some of which choose to follow the road. This particular day found beautiful weather and ideal conditions for the work, and as evening approached a gentle breeze swept through the trees that lined the path. It wasn’t long after that I noticed a clearing at the end of my vision, where all manner of trees disappeared and the grass shone bright and welcoming.

I picked up my pace, for I was excited but thought it was deception to my eyes. In the distance stood a flock of sheep in larger numbers than I had ever seen. This group was nestled together in the middle of a field, and a single figure cloaked in a dark covering leaned against a giant oak tree with his staff propped by his side.

I burst forth into the open, and as my eyes finally confirmed that which my heart yearned. I rushed towards the flock silently preparing my words. The sheep were bleating aimlessly and I could tell by their markings that they had long since abandoned the Good Shepherd. My heart pounded with excitement as I approached the flock, and before I said anything I looked over to see that the dark figure was asleep against the oak. I did not know recognize him nor understand his purpose, but I wanted to gather as many of the sheep together to follow me back before he awoke.

No gate or enclosure surrounded the flock. There was nothing that would keep them in place. Yet they all appeared inhibited, and were filthy and aimless. They stared out in all manner of direction, a lost look in each of their eyes. Some looked at the ground, others at the sky, and still others aimlessly toward the four winds. I recognized that evening was upon us and darkness was fast approaching the land, and I hurriedly devised a plan to convince and harness such a large group. I paced back and forth in front of the flock as I muttered to myself the possibilities. Excitement and anticipation were now residing in me, and the treasure I was going to bring back to the Good Shepherd would surely be met with celebration. Finally, when I was satisfied with my intended plan, I took my first step into the flock.

“Excuse me, sir” a voice beckoned from the oak. My head jolted to see the dark figure arise, his head cloaked and his hands grasping the staff.

“Hello,” I replied nervously, stepping away from the flock. I was caught off guard and frantically gathered my thoughts as the dark figure moved closer. “I did not mean to disturb you. I am here on business.”

“I was not disturbed,” the figure said gently as he rested close to me. The dark figure moved as if frail, but as I peered into his face I was struck that it was handsome and young. His eyes burned towards me and his gaze did not depart from mine.  I thought I had no reason to fear, but my heart began to sink in my chest. The dark figure took notice. “What business could you have with these sheep?”

I took a step back and straightened myself, stretching to exude the most formal and imposing impression I could muster. My mind continued to grow foggy, so I cleared my throat, clamoring for that extra moment to gather my thoughts. “I am here on behalf of their Good Shepherd,” I finally said shakily. “Their Master.”

“Their master?” the figure asked softly but with incredulity. He looked over at the flock. “I assure you, these sheep need no master. They have found each other, and themselves. They are happy and ask for no disturbance.”

The figure spoke confidently about the sheep and this raised my curiosity. “You speak as if you know these sheep. Do you claim them as your own?”

The figures lips curled into a wry smile. “I do not claim them, but they are here.” He paused for a moment. “As long as they are here they can share this space with me. I am happy to have them.”

“But their master wants them back,” I quickly countered. “He loves them.”

“Is that why you are here? To bring them back?”

“Yes.”

The figure looked over the flock and back at me. “If you think they belong with their master then gather them together and bring them to him.” I looked at the flock then back at the figure as I anticipated a caveat. When none came I turned and headed towards the flock. I was upon them when the dark figure spoke again. “I wonder why that ‘good shepherd’ didn’t come for them himself.”

As the figure’s words pierced my ears I stopped “What did you say?”

The figure watched as my eyes met his. “I asked why your shepherd did not come himself.”

I turned my whole body towards the figure. “He sent me,” I responded confidently.

“Oh,” The figure said as his face perked. “Then you must be as great as he to command his sheep.”

“Of course not,” I retorted indignantly as I took a few steps back.

“No?” the figure asked. “Then I am certainly perplexed. This shepherd sends a lesser to do his work? If you are not as great as he then you are incompetent to bring back the sheep and he must not truly care about his flock.”

I stood stunned.  The dark figure’s frail body turned back towards the tree and leaned against it, his eyes searching me as he rested.

I was stalled. The words I heard were not eloquent or long in voice, trying to convince me with reasoned and rational arguments. They were terse and simple, slipping into my being and rattling around as they contaminated everything I thought was secure. I watched myself as I stepped back further in silence and sat myself away from the flock upon the trampled grass. My heart was in distress as the sheep continued their sounds and the figure rested silently. I sat picking at the grass as my mind whirled.

“You should go,” I heard his voice whisper as I fell into my thoughts.

It is true that I was lesser than the Good Shepherd. I knew that. But did I really understand my incompetence? This figure was right. I had not real authority. I had not real knowledge. Was I resting on a façade, fooling even myself, walking in a lie of my construction? I stared at the ground as dusk consumed the land.

If I was to believe that I was competent and filled with authority, then I still had to question why I was sent. Was the Good Shepherd mistaken in sending me? And if He was mistaken on that, what else could He be mistaken about? If I couldn’t trust Him on knowing who to send for his flock, I couldn’t trust Him on anything.  

“You should go,” the figure said again with urgency.

Despair set in. I continued to look down and only occasionally sneaking a peak at the sheep. I wanted to stand up and go forward, but my heart was downtrodden and my body weak. I finally looked back over at the dark figure to find him content in his rest. Yet he was silently beckoning me to return home.

I wanted to leave but couldn’t find the strength. Night fell over the land and with it came the most unusual sight. Out of the darkness of the road that brought me here I noticed others make their way towards the sheep. Men and women much like myself, carrying a small light to illuminate their path, walked past me and towards the flock. I knew them as tasked with the same job as I. A spring of hope leapt in my soul that they could help me get to the flock and bring them home. But as each approached, they heard the voice of the dark figure, and each would engage. My brief hope turned back to despair as one by one, each man and woman, hearing the voice of the figure, turned away from the flock, and disappeared down the road behind me.

Time passed and I no others came forth. The night was late, and I wished that dawn was soon approaching. “Why do you remain?” the figure stood over me and snapped me alert as pity streamed from his lips. “I do not force you to stay. Be on your way. Don’t worry yourself with the likes of these.”

I wanted to follow his instructions. Hopelessness consumed me, as each word he spoke raised doubts that I could no longer scale. My time there was fruitless, and I would be comforted to leave the presence of these sheep and this figure.

“I want to leave.” I mumbled as I hung my head. “I will leave.”

But I was weak and needed more time before I could escape this arena. Silence engulfed the camp, and soon the bleating of the sheep was quiet, as though they too had caught my despair. I closed my eyes as I felt the figures victory over me. I closed my eyes.

I don’t know how much time had passed, but something shook me, and I awoke with a jolt. I noticed light breaking through the trees, and saw that the figure was still standing and staring at me.

“You need to go,” The figure said with great intent. “Go now.”

I looked around and saw nobody else there. My mind began to race. The figure was intimidating me yet my body refused to move. As hard as I pressed I could not move myself off the spot in which I had become planted.

“You are not welcome here!” the figure finally yelled.

“Don’t you think I want to go?” I cried back. “I can’t!”

“If you don’t go now, I will hurt you! You will regret your choice! It will be terrible.”

I put my head down. “Then do it. “ I replied. “I can’t leave.”

I closed my eyes and waited several breaths as I expected this figure to unleash fury upon me. His frail countenance had turned so aggressive, so quickly, that I was filled with terror. Yet my body and my heart betrayed my baser instincts to flee. I could not stand, I could not run. All I could do was submit.

When I felt no swift punishment I raised my head. The figure had moved away from me, still visibly seething, but failing to fulfill his promise. I watched as he slowly walked back to his tree and leaned against it.

I studied him for a moment, and only for a moment, for that is all it took. My mind and my heart, which had earlier betrayed me, finally understood. I rose to my feet and walked towards the sheep.

“Go away!” The figure yelled. “You are not worthy.”

I stopped once again at the edge of the flock, this time with intent, and directed my words back at the figure. “I know. You are right. I am not worthy. But I come in the name of the one that is worthy. I come in the name of the Good Shepherd, who has given me the ability to speak in his stead. You and I both know that I am nothing of myself. That is why you said what you said. That is why you want me to leave. You counted on the fact that I knew I was nothing. But that is on my own. In the name of the Good Shepherd I am worthy, acceptable, and able. It is in that name that you have no power over me.”

The dark figure soaked in my words and unleashed a barrage of curses directed at my mind and heart. He threw all that he had, but I pushed my way into the midst of the sheep. I knew not how, but the curses flung my way hit their target, yet bounced harmlessly off, crashing to the ground beneath my feet. I no longer gave the figure my attention, and the more fruitless he saw his attacks, the harder he attacked. But no matter his efforts I was protected.

I spoke to the sheep in a language I hoped would touch them inside. I offered them the chance to head back to their true Shepherd and to be done with the dark figure. Daylight swept over the field as I proclaimed the message. My voice rang out to the flock, and each sheep heard my words. I looked into the eyes of the sheep, and saw many shake off their vacant stares and light up with hope. When I was finished, I beckoned for them to follow me back to the path and into the folds of their loving Shepherd.

I walked out from among the sheep and headed back down the road. Many of the sheep followed me, while still others remained behind. I think the figure continued to hurl his insults my way, though it is hard to say, for I tuned him out and did not look back. I headed down the narrow path, a trail of sheep behind me, my heart grateful for those that followed and hopeful that one day I may return for the others.

Your Talent

What are we to do? Are we to believe that God actually has a plan for us, that He gave us talents that can be used for His glory, and that He will give us a path to use those talents? Those are questions that every human asks at some point and some way in life. Be they Christian or not, they wonder in their own manner what it is that they are truly supposed to do on earth, and what it is they can contribute that is special or unique. More so, they ask themselves if there is actually anything special that they can give. For the Christian, this question becomes all the more personal. For there is no doubt that God has created us, and with that creation, has given us special talents and abilities that we can use to glorify Him. They may not be as bold and unique as talents to hold world records or stand apart in the eyes of man. But they are talents nonetheless, and they are talents that He expects us to use. Make no mistake, God does not need us in any way to complete the work which He desires to do. And that is all the more of a blessing, because it shows us that he has allowed us, through Grace, to work with Him, to glorify Him, to completely share in that which He desires. So what of our talents? Does He really want us to use them? What if we don't seem to be in a position to use them? Each of us was created, no matter size, strength or level of intellect, with something that can be used to glorify God. Call it a trait, a talent, or an ability, it is unique to us. I have met men and women who have the highest levels of education or strength that one would point to as obvious possessors of talent. But I have also been with those that the world looks on as inept, incapable, and useless. There is no doubt that in them there is something that can glorify God. I have seen it. More importantly, He put it there. Which brings me to this point. There is something in you that is worthy, whatever you call it, of using to express both uniqueness and a sign of the Creator's desire to express Himself through you. There is no doubt that He will use that talent, if only you will open yourself to that call. The choice is yours.