The Lost Sheep

I caught myself staring at a lovely picture of Jesus holding a tiny sheep close to His bosom, with a smile of thanksgiving on His face.  My sister texted the painting to me the other day.  It was a picture of the lost sheep—now found.

In my mind’s eye, as I looked at the sheep, it seemed as though it was shivering from exposure to a cruel environment.  It appeared sad from the lack of closeness with its family and the protection of its shepherd.  I envisioned it living in constant fear of a roaring lion seeking to devour it.

I relate to the picture in many ways.

It portrays me after the Good Shepherd found me wandering through unsafe surroundings.  Everything about the painting seemed to convey the same message: I was lost without a shepherd.

As I looked at the picture, I saw myself—and so many other souls whom Jesus has rescued from the sin-induced hypothermia of a cold and unforgiving world and from certain death.  We were rescued because of God’s immeasurable love for mankind. He loved us so much that He gave His only Son to die for our sins.

“For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” — Romans 3:23

As Jesus hung upon the cross, He looked ahead through the corridors of time.  He heard the cries of those who would one day call upon Him for help, caught in the horrific whirlpool of sin, wandering through a wilderness with nowhere to go but deeper into the unknown depths of wayward living.

Jesus was our only hope for survival.

He had such compassion and love for us that He chose to remain on that cross and purchase our pardon from sin.  We could not do it ourselves.  We needed a Savior.  We were indeed lost.

Jesus suffered ridicule, hatred, scourging, and excruciating pain as He hung there, thinking of you and me.  We were lost in a world of chaos and rebellion against God.  Yet He willingly endured it all.  Then He bowed His head and died—with us on His mind.

Were it not for the love of God, where would we be today?

I have asked myself that question more than once.  Honestly, I may not even be alive.  Perhaps I would be incarcerated in some county-run institution.  God only knows.

I was definitely lost and traveling down the wrong road, looking for happiness—but I was looking in all the wrong places.

Then the Good Shepherd found me.

Since God saved my soul, I am like the sheep in that picture—safe in the arms of the Lord and Savior, my Shepherd.  I am eternally grateful.  I was lost, but I was found.

Written by,

Papa Boyd