WHAM!

I didn't expect to encounter a “casualty” when I stepped off the front porch that day. Right below a large window lay a little bird. I picked it up and touched it, hoping to discern if it was breathing. But there was no reaction. Apparently a collision with the sky-reflecting window took the little bird's life.

 I guessed it was a sparrow—I'm not a bird expert but certainly know crows from robins!--and thought of how common sparrows were in Bible times, too. They built nests in the temple precincts. They could be purchased cheaply for temple sacrifices. In Jesus' time, a penny bought two. Yet, despite their “cheapness,” Jesus remarked, “Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father's care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows” (Matthew 10:29-31).

 Elsewhere, the Lord admonished His followers not to worry about everyday life and the need for nourishment and clothing. Life is more than that, He said. Then He added (and I wonder if His hand swept across the sky): “Look at the birds. They don't plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren't you more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?” (Matthew 6:25-27).

It's a bit of a jump from common birds to lambs, but I thought of lines penned by English poet William Blake (1757-1827). Writing as if a child talking to a lamb about its Creator, his poem begins:

Little lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee,

Gave thee life, and bid thee feed...?

 It had been years (a college English lit class) since I first read those words. But as I scooped up the little bird and decided where to bury it, the lines returned, but with adjustment: “Little bird, who made thee?....Gave thee life, and bid thee feed?”

As I dug a hole under a nearby azalea, it was a sad but holy moment for me. Dust to dust we all return, people and creatures—except for those still alive when Jesus returns to earth again. But in my minutes-long bird-burying role, I answered Blake's poem. Do I know Who made me? Absolutely! Gave me food, clothing, voice. Blake's poem ends with a reference to Christ as the “lamb of God.”

He calls Himself a Lamb.

He is meek, and He is mild,

He became a little child

I a child, and thou a lamb,

We are called by His name.

Little lamb, God bless Thee!

Little lamb, God bless thee!

 And little bird, now blanketed by soil under the azalea, you mattered to your Creator. Hard to comprehend in this big world, but true.

BAA, BAA....

That's me--20 years ago--with a friend's black lamb

My home has a reproduction of Warner Sallman's famed painting, “The Lord Is My Shepherd.”* Because of copyright laws, I won't include a copied image in this blog. But you know the one: white-robed Jesus, holding a lamb, other sheep around him. See an image and discussion at this link: TheLord is My Shepherd | The Warner Sallman Collection Notice the rocky hills and “still waters” in the background. Then, to the left of Jesus, a little black sheep, nudging the folds of His robe, as though saying, I want to stay close to the shepherd.

The scene reminds me of the 1874 hymn “Close to Thee” by prolific (and blind) hymn-writer Fanny Crosby:

Thou my everlasting portion, more than friend or life to me,
All along my pilgrim journey, Savior, let me walk with Thee.

Refrain:Close to Thee, close to Thee,/Close to Thee, close to Thee;
All along my pilgrim journey, Savior, let me walk with Thee.

“Black sheep” have gotten something of a bad rap in our English language. The term has come to mean someone who doesn't “fit in” with society or family. Crankiness, conflict, criticism—the negatives of human relationships seem to dominate their personalities. Why “black sheep” came to be associated with this, I don't know, except that the color “black” is often associated with sin. But real, woolly “black sheep” aren't that way because of any personality issue. Their “blackness” is a genetic thing. Sheep carry one recessive gene which provide a one-in-four chance of emerging black. If both parents have this one-in-four gene, and both “go-black” genes randomly end up together, the lamb emerges black.

But are they loners like their human namesakes? Not really. Sheep are actually social animals, comfortable in groups and generally getting along. Even the black ones can be found in the midst of a white woolly crowd. The greatest social attribute of sheep is a “herd mentality.” They stick together.

As for the black wool, go back to the nursery rhyme about “Baa, baa, black sheep.” The speaker wanted to buy the black wool which, according to what I read, was valued for the dark color woven into plaids. But the white wool was more versatile as it could be dyed into other colors.

But what of the little black sheep in Sallman's art, leaning into Jesus? The more I think about it, that's where the black sheep belonged—as close to the Savior as possible. That's true of us, too, regardless of whether we tend toward the rebellious or antisocial behavior that humans now label “black sheep.” All of us need to stay “close to Him.” Some for correction of behavior. Some for comfort. Some for simple companionship. And the Shepherd still speaks to His flocks. His Words are now in a Book. One in which He called Himself, “The Good Shepherd” (John 10). In staying close to The Book, I stay close to the Savior.

I'm reminded of a little poem by England's William Blake (1757-1827) which begins,“Little Lamb, who made thee?” The poem probes the spiritual symbol of lambs, God the Creator, and Jesus, the Lamb of God. This gets into heavy theology—a surprising thing packed into a seemingly simple verse. But it reminds me that Jesus, the Good Shepherd, also the Lamb of God who died for my sins, still beckons me to the safe place by His side. And sensing, as it were, my head nudging His robes, I am content to be “close to Thee.”