On several mornings of this ongoing Easter season I’ve had the joy of watching 16 little lambs, all born on various days since Good Friday. Fragile, hungry, occasionally bouncy, precocious, close to family yet daring, and more, they seem apt symbols of life.
Though my fleece is not white as snow, I can readily identify with them. But unlike me, they are new and fresh in this world, like innocents.
My father is their shepherd, I suppose, although “farmer” is a more accurate title. He checks on them several times a day, and cares for their well-being and that of the flock. He saved the lives of several lambs that needed help during or after birth. One less well-timed arrival suffocated before he could tend to it.
On Sunday I heard someone preach that the depiction of God in Jewish scriptures seemed angry and punishing, but Jesus came and straightened people out, letting them know his Father in heaven was, instead, loving and compassionate. Recent and past conversations with others on the website Facebook have hinted of the same view...