Big Red Dogs and Confused Sheep

We had played school, read books, eaten snacks, and watched Clifford the Big Red Dog. This could only mean one thing. Church bells were ringing.

Playing church is high on the grand girls’ list when they come to Keggie’s house and I love it. Our services follow a predictable pattern but they also have unique twists you won’t find in your more traditional settings. We have church in the piano room.  I’m generally the pianist. Carlisle Mae leads music. Her older sister Emerson is quite the preacher.

On the day I’m speaking of, five-year-old Emerson was bringing one of her characteristically stirring messages in which she likes to take a theme and hit it from all directions.

“We are God’s sheep,” she said. “And He is our shepherd.”

Emerson paused to stare at me. “Amen!” I said, belatedly. In my defense, the song leader had fallen and whacked her head on the piano bench. Someone had to give first aid.

Pleased, Emerson continued, reversing the order of her last point for emphasis, “He is our shepherd,” she said. “And we are His sheep.”

“Amen,” I said, quickly this time. I said it several more times as she hammered on her theme, until suddenly three-year-old Carlisle decided she’d recovered enough to preach. I brought this to the senior pastor’s attention. Once Emerson had somewhat begrudgingly introduced the visiting speaker, Carlisle set her Bible at her feet and propped one foot on it, (I can only surmise that she was standing on the promises.)

Then she pointed her finger at the congregation, ( me, Emerson, Froggy, and Bear) and announced.  “We are His Shepherd, and He is our sheep!”

I grinned when Carlisle Mae got it exactly backwards, but I couldn’t help thinking that she nailed our grownup problem. We are each born with a desire to rule. If we can’t rule the whole world, we at least want to rule our own. And yet, the only way we can ever learn to reign in life is by kneeling.  In the words of Pastor Emerson, “He is the Shepherd, we are the sheep.”

Hugs, Shellie