Meet Bruce the Sheep!

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You probably don’t recognize me because I decided to colour my hair and yes, I did add some extensions. I could have worn my corona virus protection face mask but then for sure you wouldn’t have recognized me. Note the penetrating clear eyes, that is a sign of high intelligence but the long and the short of it is, that I, Bruce, am a sheep.

Jesus is my Shepherd. Jesus is a lot smarter than I am. He knows that I can get easily confused and He tells me to stay close to Him. My Shepherd tells me that one of my biggest problems (note the plural), is that I can easily lose my focus on Him. I have a habit of doing that a lot. I see something over at the other end of the meadow and sure enough, I start to wander over there. Next thing you know, there I am, telling all the other sheep who have also wandered away from Jesus, just like I did, all about what I see and why my understanding of what I see is the correct perspective. Jesus shakes His head. Fortunately my Shepherd is very patient and understanding. Jesus talks to us a lot, every day He keeps saying the same thing over and over again. Learn of me, stay close to me.

Jesus tells us that we don’t need to find the way, that He is the way.
Jesus tells us that we don’t need to find the truth, that He is the truth.
Jesus tells us that we don’t need to find the life, that He is the life.

One way, one truth, one life. You’d think we sheep would get that wouldn’t you?

Evidently I am not the only sheep who has a tendency to lose my focus on Jesus. My Shepherd has a lot of sheep, whole bunches. And His sheep come in just about every size and every colour that you can think of. Well OK, maybe not every colour but close to it. My Shepherd doesn’t care what colour we are, He says we are all His sheep. Sometimes we sheep forget that but Jesus never does. He knows each one of our names and all of our little quirks. He even knows how many hairs are on our heads. None of us have a clue how He does that but we believe Him. Did I mention that Jesus is a lot smarter than we are?

The meadow that I stay in is called the Kingdom of God by my Shepherd. It has a fence around it and is separated from all the other meadows that are around the meadow that I am in. Actually I used to live in one of those other meadows but Jesus, my Shepherd knew that I was lost and He came and saved me and brought me into His fold. In order to save me, my Shepherd had to willingly lay down His life for me and all of us and He did that. It was terrible but it showed how much He truly loves us. But after He laid down His life for us, He became alive again and told us that because He lives, we shall also live, even though we also will die. We believe Jesus because He never lies to us, and He proves His love for us, time and time again. When I lived in one of those other meadows I didn’t have a shepherd, I was kind of my own shepherd. That didn’t work out very well. Long story, but a lot of us have long stories, Short story is that Jesus saved all of us that are within His fold.

Jesus has a Father who is also our Father and it was our Father who sent us our Shepherd, Jesus. We’ve never seen Him but Jesus tells us that we can see our Father in Him. Jesus tells us that everything that He says and everything that He does, is what our Father does, so by watching Jesus we can come to know our Father here now. And because Jesus, our Shepherd, loves us, we know that our Father loves us.

A while ago our Shepherd had to go away. We were’t really keen over that but Jesus told us that it was necessary. He told us that there would be a lot more sheep coming into His fold and that even though He was going to go to be with our Father, that He would not leave us alone, as orphans. He told us that He would send His Holy Spirit to live in each one of us until it was time for Him to return (He is coming back!). And that is how, we sheep who are within His fold, stay close to our Shepherd. Through following the leading of His Holy Spirit within us, that keeps us focused on Jesus.

But staying focused on our Shepherd is not always easy, we can lose our focus, head off to different parts of the meadow and even turn on one another at times, but that does not please our Shepherd. In fact, that is the exact opposite of what He asked us to do.

So forgive Bruce the sheep, when he falters, when he wanders where he ought not wander and speaks of things that he has yet to master. Bruce is just a sheep, a sheep that the Shepherd watches over and will bring to completion, as He will for all within His flock.

Worthy is the Lamb! Blessings!

27 comments

  1. Brilliant post, Bruce! You accurately characterized the nature of we sheep; told us about our perfect Shepherd; and presented the Gospel in a way people ages 5 to 100 can understand. Extremely well done!

    On a side note, it’s interesting the kind of power a border wields. Somehow, when crossing over from the U.S. into Canada, a fine word such as “color” suddenly gets transformed in the clunkier “colour.”

    I hope you see the humour … uh, humor … in this!

    Liked by 3 people

    • I surely do David, when I used to give online IT instruction for classes, especially in the States, I had to be mindful of how to say certain words and certain alphabet characters like “Z” (Zed/Zee), even though everybody knew you guys had it wrong! Blessings.

      Liked by 3 people

      • I think there’s strength in numbers. 37 million people in Canada; 350 in the U.S. Without a doubt this makes our pronunciations and spellings the correct ones! The majority is always in the right!! 😂🤣

        Liked by 2 people

      • In keeping with some new fact checking skills I have acquired, I believe the written language we are discussing is ENGLISH, and that being the case, the word color has its roots (unsurprisingly) in the Latin word color. It entered Middle ENGLISH through the Anglo-Norman colur, which was a version of the Old French colour. If you need more just let me know! And numbers along are not necessarily always correct, everyone used to think the world was flat and now everyone knows it is a square. 🙂 P.S. I can actually do this all day!

        Liked by 3 people

    • Dear Bruce and David: your comment conversation has inspired me to write the following, which I will turn into a post on my blog in the near future. 😀

      In school, English and literature were my favorite (favourite) subjects. I carried a book in my hand almost constantly. In the evenings when I washed dishes, I propped the book I was currently reading behind the sink faucet. I had read almost everything in the school library by the fifth grade. Yes, I dearly loved English and literature. I don’t remember ever missing a word on a spelling test.

      When I went to live in England during the latter part of the 1970s, I expected to fit right in. I had read all of Agatha Christie’s mystery novels at least once. More importantly, I am descended from a Puritan couple who sailed from Lancashire, England to Plymouth Colony in 1623, on the second ship after the Mayflower. Surely my arrival on British soil would be like a homecoming.

      I did, indeed, feel very much at home in England — until I discovered that I did not speak the same language. This became apparent when I enrolled my 5-year-old son in school, and I asked his teacher what supplies he would need.

      “We provide everything, Dear. However, he will need pencils.”

      At least, that’s what I thought she said. The next day, my happy little boy, dressed in his western style shirt, denim jeans, and cowboy boots, walked proudly into the school carrying a fist full of pencils. His teacher met me in the parking lot (car park) when I returned to pick him up that afternoon.

      “There seems to be a bit of a language problem,” she said. “We do provide the children with pencils. What he needs are Plimsolls — soft soled shoes. His boots are not suitable for our play yard exercises.”

      Apparently, Plimsolls are the British equivalent of America’s Keds.

      My most embarrassing moment happened when I went to buy groceries. I asked the lady behind the counter where they kept the butter.

      “Butt-er. I don’t believe we have anything called butt-er. Do you know what she means, Mabel?”

      “Butt-er. No, I have never heard of that.” The few shoppers in the store looked equally puzzled.

      I tried to explain. “Butter is made from the cream that comes from cows. It’s yellow. You spread it on toast…”

      “OOOOOH, she means BOOT-UH!” someone exclaimed. Now everyone in the little shop was laughing hysterically and shouting “BOOT-UH! She was asking for BOOT-UH!”

      Uh huh. England did not feel quite so much like home after that.

      PS: This is a great post, Bruce. All spelling differences aside. 😉

      Liked by 3 people

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