Oblivious Sheep

It was evening, and the sun was just starting its slow slink over the Welsh hills. Below us, the estuary was filling fast with water rushing in from the Irish Sea. Only an hour before, the swirling water we were gazing at was a sea of grass, sheep happily grazing and bleating their contentment in the "warm" Welsh weather.

In the distance, two sheep continued their oblivious grazing, their heads down, focused on their greedy grass-snatching. The sheep around them began to notice the incoming tide and transitioned their grazing to more secure ground.

The sun glowed orange, illuminating the estuary and the two inattentive grazers began to notice their predicament. The water began closing them off from their friends. A devoted sheep companion walked to the far edge of the secure ground, bleating warning while the others turned their backs and sauntered over the hill.

The sun glistened on the waters and now even the concerned sheep was cut off from the others, on an island on its own. The water swirled hungrily around the last bits of solid ground.

The three sequestered sheep were calling to each other. No longer eating, their heads were up, looking for escape but it seemed hopeless. They trotted from one end of their ever-decreasing island to the other, baa-ing and dipping their hooves in the water.

As we stood on the hill overlooking the sheep, we felt completely helpless. We wanted to help the sheep but we didn't know how. We looked around for their shepherd but there was no one. We felt compelled to watch this drama unfold. 

After standing around hopelessly for many minutes, one sheep set out the long way. Cautiously it stepped into the water, then began to trot, and finally jump through the inky waters, headed toward the orange-yellow bridge of sunshine and secure land.

The others saw this leap of courage and followed, though there may have been shorter, easier routes. The water weighed down their thick wool fur as they launched themselves to safety.

We stood on the bank surrounded by the absent-minded bleating of the rest of the flock. We let out our held breaths and cheered for our pathetic sheep friends.

As the last sheep jumped to shore, shaking the water victoriously from its wool, my heart soared. Watching those stranded, hopeless, oblivious sheep felt a bit like watching myself. How often do I get myself into a predicament because I forget to look up... because I'm too concerned about the day-to-day demands? So often I forget to fix my eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith. Soon I find the waters rising, the panic rising, the paralyzing fear of making a move, of stepping out, of making a change even though the change is so necessary.

Even a month later, the image of those three sheep scampering to safety, walking on water, to solid ground, the sun illuminating their path is seared into my memory. The reminder that it's not too late to look up. To find my bearings. To step out in courage and make things right.