LAMBS ON THE LEDGE

BEFORE DAWN

The silky blue-blackness of the night sky slowly gave way to gray, then yellow tinged with pink. The dew danced on the green grass as the early morning sunlight slipped gently over the field.

The quiet pasture, jutting out from the rugged mountainside, contentedly rested above the deep, gloomy ravine that ran along its northern exposure.

The Shepherd had slept lightly. Between the threat of wolves and thieves, and the sheep's own strange compulsion to wander off—as if drawn by the music of some invisible Pied Piper—He was always ready for action.

As He mused over His charges, His eye caught an unnatural movement in the tough, dry mesquite bushes that thrived on the precipice of the ravine. The bushes were worthless to eat (although His lambs seemed never to be convinced of it until their mouths were sore and bleeding from chewing on them) and served only to hide predators.

The Shepherd moved quickly and cautiously beyond the drowsy sheep that lay near Him, toward the rustling bushes. Which would it be this time? A wolf? A snake? A thieving herdsman looking for a quick addition to his own flock?

Suddenly a rock and a large clump of earth, loosened by the commotion, tumbled from beyond the bushes and over the precipice. He could hear them thumping and scraping their way down the side of the ravine. With a dull thud, they hit the bottom.

Crouching down, the Shepherd parted the brittle thicket, one arm's length at a time. As He pressed through the dense growth dangerously close to the ragged edge of the ravine, His hands touched wool—the soft wool of one of His very own lambs!

Its back legs were over the edge, and sheer terror filled its wide eyes. In another moment, the loose earth under its upper body would break away and carry it down, down to a bloody death on the rocks below.

The Shepherd stretched His body carefully over the weak earth, grasped the forelegs of the terrified lamb and slowly pulled its body fully onto solid ground. Within minutes, the lamb was in His arms, its heart pounding and its body shaking from fright. He held the lamb close until it calmed down.

As the Shepherd ran His hands over every part of the lamb's body, He found its leg was broken. He gently set the twisted limb, and then cradled the tired, dusty heap of wool in His strong arms.

"You will learn through the pain," whispered the Shepherd, as much to Himself as to the lamb, " to stay close to me." A sad smile played upon His face. "You will learn."

The Lessons Ahead

There are no innocents in the Kingdom of God. From Sunday School teacher to pastor, elder to evangelist, counselor to custodian, and musician to deacon, we all too often venture into the dry mesquite bushes of disobedience—even if only in issues of the heart. But that is, after all, where sin begins. We in ministry are accused from time to time of having it easy; that we are insulated from the world, the flesh and the devil. But in pursuing God's voice and His call to reach the lost and encourage believers, we find ourselves not in a fortress, but pastured, however lovingly, on a precarious plateau-like ledge on the mountainside. Temptation and deception stalk us there perhaps more relentlessly than anywhere else. And if any one of us falls from that ledge, hundreds—perhaps thousands—of others may hear the cry of our demise and be adversely affected.

It is an exposed position, facing in one direction the warmth of the sun, and in the other direction, the frost of the canyon. While the camaraderie of fellow believers and the precious presence of God lifts us up through all the pressures and responsibilities of ministry, our flesh repeatedly threatens to drag us down.

And in the shadows, studying us for any sign of rebellion, lurks the Pied Piper, Satan himself, the archenemy of our souls. He hates us with a passion because we bear the image of God. That God delights in us galls him, and he is committed to our spiritual destruction. To see us cast from the ledge by hatred and bitterness, weakness and disillusionment would bring him sadistic joy!

The Piper plays a song that is sweet to our flesh. The discordant tones of self-righteous anger, jealousy, self-pity, ungratefulness and unforgiveness captivate our hearts all too easily. You would think that we in ministry would be a tough lot to entice, but that is just not so.

However slippery the precipice or enticing the Piper's song, we fall into sin not because the Piper plays, but because we follow. We Christians are often frighteningly ignorant regarding the schemes and intrigues of our own hearts, until it is too late. We also underestimate his hatred for us and our own ease in believing lies. We think we are invincible!