A Faithful Shepherd

As we head into our sixth month since moving to LA, nothing describes our experience better than the relationship of a shepherd and his sheep. We, of course, are the sheep... oftentimes helpless, and not infrequently wondering—if not wandering—in our struggle to keep up. And GOD is our Shepherd. He’s the One that guides us with His staff… gently tapping--sometimes rapping--us first on this side, and then on the other, trying to keep us headed in the right direction.

I thought of this on Sunday as we joined Pastor Roger and the ensemble here in Upland at the Mountain View Mennonite Church and sang:

“A faithful Shepherd is my Lord, who doth great plenty me accord, who leadeth me to pastures green, gives me to drink of waters unseen.

“A faithful Shepherd is my Lord… a faithful Shepherd is…. my Lord!”

And if you can appreciate the cadences in those lines of the song, they have a way of lifting your heart right into the strength of the Shepherd's arms... even as you sing.

What else can account for the PRESENCE we feel in the midst of homesickness sometimes? Where else does that POWER come from when we’re tempted to grow weary? And Who else to thank for the PLENTY that comes our way... especially when the transmission went out of our van? Just as we thank Him for His faithful Shepherding, so we want to thank each of you who have faithfully called, or written (by letter, email, facebook, or text messaging), or even knocked on our door. THANKS FOR BEING AN INVIGORATION TO OUR SPIRITS! And thank you particularly for your part of the plenty!! We still feel lonely at times, but our Shepherd is with us. Sometimes we still lack strength. Then power comes. And it seems sometimes we still worry about our expenses (our van has even had more issues ... this time with the engine). But our Shepherd is the same. Faithful!

The song goes on to reflect in specific detail:

“With loving hands He giveth bread, His gentle Spirit calms my dread; With health my body He endows, with blessings all my labor crowns.

“A faithful Shepherd is my Lord… a faithful Shepherd is…. my Lord!”

More often than not, my closing thoughts to the Lord as I fall off to sleep at night go something like this: “Lord, You know how vast the fields of opportunity are amidst these massive multitudes of people.” I find myself reminding the Lord: “First of all, there are the homeless, then there are the thousands of square-blocks of inner-city homes with car-lined, narrow streets and people everywhere. Even children running around in areas not safe for the police. Yet they are there—the children. They don't have a choice! And yes, there are the gangs and bullies who hold these places hostage to their whims. Then there are all the ordinary people too... regular Americans and hardworking Hispanics. Lord, they need You too. Even the Christians are often confused, strung out, and distracted. Lord, You know how very ripe the harvest is! Yet, You also know how small we are, and how little we can do. So, just take our little bit and put it exactly where you want it to be. I'm not going to worry about it Lord! I'm trusting in You. Just lead us along one step at a time.” Then I fall asleep.

I struggle to embrace the final stanza, but it really is true! Fearless trusting brings joyful laughing.

“On pathways narrow with Him I go, I shun not hardships, fear no foe. He is my Rod, He is my Staff. True joy affords—my soul doth laugh,

“A faithful Shepherd is my Lord… a faithful Shepherd is…. my Lord!”

Speaking of the homeless. In the wee hours of this past Sunday morning as I stirred around in the back of my truck trying to find just the right book, I heard a knocking on my windshield. I looked up and saw the bushy-headed face of a homeless man beckoning for my attention. We were near downtown Fullerton. I stuck my head around the door and asked him what he wanted.

“Just a blanket,” he said… “just a blanket.”

“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a blanket. All I have are some books.”

“I want to lie down,” he went on, “but I need something to cover me up… if I just had a blanket, I’d be fine. But thanks anyway.”

I went back to my rummaging among the books. But later I thought, “Why didn’t I give that man a hug?” I didn’t have a blanket, but I did have a hug! If only I’d given him a hug.” I could have done like the disciple Peter when he said to the crippled man who had asked for money. He said, “Silver and gold have I none. But such as I have I’ll give you. In the Name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, ‘Rise up and walk.’” I could have said, “You know sir, I don’t have a blanket. But I do have a hug. In the Name of Jesus Christ, I'll give you a hug?” I think it would have warmed at least his soul.

There are lots of homeless folks in these parts. And it bothers me when I get used to seeing them. A while back I spotted a fellow as I was rounding the corner of an intersection in Glendora. He was sitting in his wheelchair on the sidewalk, next to the curb. He had no legs, and his arms had no elbows. I thought, “I’m NOT going to pass him off as ‘just another homeless man.’” I turned into the nearest parking lot, got out of my truck, and walked back to him… digging in my pocket as I went. When I got to him, I offered him five dollars. But he objected, saying, “Are you sure? Are you sure?” (I’d never had a homeless man object to money before.) He went on to say—looking up at the sign just outside the Jack-In-The-Box fastfood restaurant as he spoke,

“Why don’t you just get me two tacos like those up there on the sign?”

“Of course,” I said. “I’ll get you those tacos, and a drink. But I still want you to have the five dollars.”

Tears filled my eyes as I went to get the tacos. “There’s something very special about that man,” I thought. “I’m not just going to give him the food. Since it’s lunchtime, I’m going to eat with him too.”

He seemed quite informed and well-read as we visited together there on the sidewalk. I gave him a little Bible Promise Book and talked with him about how true Christianity is not a religion, but a relationship with a person… and that Person is Jesus. I learned from him about perseverance and contentment.

You can imagine how I felt a week or so later when listening to news on the radio about how a homeless man in Glendora was struck by a car and killed while trying to cross the street in his wheelchair. Was this the same man? I was so glad I had spent at least 30 minutes of my life with him.

And then there was the morning in West Covina some time ago when Christopher and I were installing a new book display in the Wal-Mart. We had just walked in the front doors of the store when all of a sudden there was a big raucous as five or six policemen took down a man who not only had shoplifted, but had threatened a department manager with these words, “I feel like killing everyone in here.” He had a backpack on and so the manager took no chances by calling in the cops. It was a horrible scene! The man cussed and screamed at the top of his lungs and fought like a wild panther. It was all the officers could do to hold him down... one of them kneeling right on his neck.

All I could do was sit there and weep. There are so many hurting, troubled, angry people! Some filled with drugs. Most filled with depression. And many are filled with demons.

Who will help them? And how?

Pray with us about that,

Ernest