Luke 15:3-7; 2:6-20
Are you surprised that lambs can talk? I don’t normally talk to people because they don’t expect me to say anything other than “Baaaa, baaaa.” But I have a special story to tell, and the only way I can tell you is if you let me use your language.
I guess I always knew I was different from the other lambs. They say that one in a hundred sheep is black, and I was that one for my shepherd. At first, it didn’t matter that I was different. My friends didn’t care. We played as lambs do, jumping around, chasing each other, butting heads, king of the hill—all those lamb games.
My mother didn’t care. She always told me how handsome I was and what a fine ram I would be. And the shepherd didn’t seem to care. He didn’t treat me any differently than the other lambs, except that he said I was his counter, that I meant he had a hundred sheep.
But one day, you know how something can happen you don’t expect, and nothing is ever the same again? Instead of the pen on the edge of town where I was born, the shepherd took us out to the field where there were other flocks, smaller flocks than ours. They put us all together, and they took turns tending us.
One lamb in another flock decided, right away, that he didn’t like me. He never even spoke to me. He took one look at me, saw that I was different, and he wouldn’t have anything to do with me.
Now that was fine. He didn’t have to be my friend if he didn’t want to be, but he turned all my friends against me. Buddy, Snowflake, Champ, Shorty, Bobtail, even my best friend BJ. He made up stories about sheep who were black, how nasty they were, how you couldn’t trust them, and my friends … well, they weren’t my friends anymore. They wouldn’t talk to me or graze with me. They would look at me sometimes if they thought I wasn’t looking, but then they would turn away.
At first, I thought they would get over it. After all, we’d been friends since we were born. Surely they knew I wasn’t like that. But obviously, they didn’t.
One afternoon, I was grazing off by myself, alone, and the bully came over toward me. He glared at me for a while, then snorted, and turned his back on me.
“Black, different,” he sneered, “worthless. They won’t even use your wool. You’re not good for anything but eating.” He laughed and sauntered off.
I didn’t intend to run away, but I walked away from the flock. I walked past some big rocks that a fox might hide behind, but I didn’t care. I was so miserable that it didn’t matter. I went through a stand of trees. Mother always warned me to stay away from trees because a lion might hide in the branches above. I didn’t care. I was so miserable that it didn’t matter.
And on I went, even though the sun was going down.
I heard a noise behind me, and I caught a glimpse of something with red fur. A fox! I was still a small enough lamb that a fox was a real threat. Part of me didn’t care, but by then, another part of me was afraid. I didn’t want to be a fox’s supper!
The afraid part of me bleated a cry for help. The fox snarled. “You’re a long way from the flock, you foolish little lamb. Nobody is going to hear you here!”
I ran, darting this way and that, bleating as I ran. The fox wasn’t in any hurry. He followed me wherever I went. In a short time, I realized I was running back up the trail, back toward the flock. And the fox was a lot closer behind me.
But then I heard something else … someone else! The shepherd! My shepherd. The one who tended my flock.
“Ah!” he shouted gleefully. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you.”
He spotted the fox, who had turned tail and was slinking away.
“Good for you I did!” The shepherd whipped out his sling, slipped a stone into it, and sent the stone after the fox. He was a good shot, but the fox was far enough away that he only yelped and ran faster.
The shepherd scooped me up into his arms. “My goodness, your little heart is beating faster than my wife’s mother talks!”
I snuggled against him, and he held me tight. “You’re safe now. I have you.”
He started back up the trail. “I don’t want to lose you, you know,” he said as he stroked my side. “You’re special. You’re my counter. Nobody else has a counter sheep. You’re proof that I have more sheep than the others.”
He kept talking to me as he continued up the trail. The more he talked, the more I relaxed.
“You know, I left all the other sheep out there alone. I’m the only shepherd on duty today. The others are sitting around the fire telling stories because it’s cold. But I don’t want to lose you. You’re special.”
He continued to talk, telling me several times how special I was, until I believed him. What if the bully was wrong? Maybe being different wasn’t bad. Maybe I really was important.
We both saw it at the same time because I could hear the change in his heartbeat. A bright flash in the sky! A great light, like a huge torch! We were close to the campfire, but this light was much brighter and up in the air. The other shepherds leaped to their feet.
And then the light — how do I explain it — it seemed to take a shape, a form, sort of like a person, but not really. And a voice spoke! “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.”
Do not be afraid of a voice speaking from a great light in the sky? I don’t know about my shepherd, but I was more frightened than by the fox.
But the voice—it seemed to have an angel around it—the voice continued. “Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
Now if that wasn’t enough to frighten the bravest shepherd, other angel-shaped lights joined that one—many more! I can’t count, but there were more than the sheep in our big flock! And they sang, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those favored!”
I don’t know if we were among those favored or not, but we certainly were among those frightened! And then the angel-shaped lights disappeared. Only stars filled the sky.
One of the shepherds looked at the others and suggested, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”
My shepherd nodded, and so did the others. Off they went, down the hill and towards the town. I don’t think my shepherd realized he was still carrying me, and it didn’t occur to me to jump down. I was better off in his arms than with the flock, anyway.
At that time, Bethlehem wasn’t very big, and the shepherds found the baby in a short time. For one thing, they knew everyone in town because they lived in town when they didn’t have the sheep out in the fields. None of the town women were expecting. This had to be a stranger, and there weren’t many places a stranger might be. So they found the woman named Mary and her husband, and, of course, the baby wrapped in bands of cloth.
“Angels sent us,” the oldest shepherd said to the husband. He didn’t seem to be surprised.
“Angels in the sky. A multitude of them,” added my shepherd, stroking me gently. He put me down on the ground, and I headed for the baby lying in the manger. I can’t say that the newborn deliberately reached out, but his little hand came toward me and touched me. A tiny soft touch. I nuzzled his hand, and … well, maybe he smiled, maybe he didn’t. I think he did. I nestled down next to him.
“This is the Messiah?” asked one of the other shepherds.
“That’s what the angels said,” answered another.
The woman named Mary smiled, but she didn’t say anything. Joseph looked at us for a long time and then asked, “What do we expect of the Messiah? Would he be born as a tiny baby?”
The shepherd shrugged. “I don’t know, but that’s what the angels said,” he repeated.
The shepherds stayed a little longer, admiring the baby, telling his parents what a fine child he was. They talked about what the Messiah would do, how he would bring good news to the poor, proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, let the oppressed go free, and proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. Hope! He would bring us hope! What kind of Messiah would or could do those things?
Mary looked tired. Having a baby is hard work, at least for sheep. I imagine for people too.
My shepherd looked at me. “Come, little one,” he coaxed. “They don’t need two babies to care for.”
Two babies! I wasn’t a baby! But I got to my feet and let him pick me up again. As we left the little family, the shepherds spoke to everyone they met on the way. “The Messiah is born! We have seen him!”
But people looked at them as though they were crazy. We went back to the campfire. My shepherd sat down and put me in his lap. For a long time, nobody spoke. They gazed into the fire and wondered about what they had seen.
After a while, my shepherd shook his head and looked at me as though he hadn’t realized I was there. “Oh,” he whispered. “You should go back to the flock.” He put me on the ground and gave me a little push. “Go on, now. Your mother is waiting.”
And she was, standing a short way from the fire. Then I realized that Buddy, Snowflake, Champ, Shorty, Bobtail, and BJ were standing with her, watching the shepherds, but also watching me.
I hesitated a moment, then headed for my mother. I realized I was hungry. The others let me have my supper, then they approached.
“Blackie, we were worried about you. Where have you been?” asked BJ.
“I wandered off and a fox almost got me, but the shepherd found me. And then we went to Bethlehem and saw a baby, a baby who might be the Messiah.” I was too tired to give them all the details. If they wanted to be my friends again, I would tell them more tomorrow.
“A fox! That must have been scary!” shouted Snowflake.
“What’s a Messiah?” asked Shorty.
“Are you OK?” asked BJ, rubbing up against me.
“I am now,” I replied. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”
“And me too?” I saw the bully standing nearby.
“Yes, you, too.” I answered. “That’s what the baby would want. That’s what the Messiah is about, bringing good news to everyone, even to those who are different,” I added.
I remembered his touch, and I hoped that’s what he would do.
For consideration:
1) Animals don’t pick their friends by their color. White cats can be friends with calico cats. Brown horses hang out with spotted horses. Black-faced sheep buddy up with white-faced sheep. Why does color matter to people?
2) The shepherd thought the lamb was special because he was different. How does God feel about differences?
3) How is God working in this story?
