It’s Sunday in the Lake District, and we’re at St. Mary’s Church in Ambleside just down the road from Beatrix Potter’s house. We’re visiting. After the service Justin will say, “If Peter Rabbit went to a church this would be it,” and he’ll mean it in the best of ways—earnest, gentle, good. Right now the priest is standing up to preach. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he begins, “If you ever find a sheep in your garden…”
Where am I?
Ah yes, The Lake District, home to a few people and 3 million sheep.
This is not the first warning I’ve received about sheep getting into gardens. There are three sheep warnings in the Airbnb check-in information. “You must close the gate.” “Always close the gate.” Otherwise the sheep will get in, and a sheep in the garden means, and I quote, “HAVOC.”
-
Pictures of sheep give the impression that sheep mostly stand still. Driving by a field at forty miles per hour one could be tempted to think the same. From a distance they seem precious and simple and slow and huggable.
If you think sheep are slow and huggable, you are wrong.
Earlier this week Justin and London chased a sheep down a mountain. Justin and London are the fastest of our tribe. They did not catch the sheep. Not even close.
Sheep are fast, stubborn, undisciplined, and fearful. They are wandering wrecking balls—plundering gardens, over-grazing (creating soil erosion), and destroying flower beds in minutes.
When they’re not where they ought to be, chaos ensues.
-
After church, the woman next to me (her name is Allison) makes small talk. I say I loved the songs but didn’t know a couple. She asks if I knew that version of “The Lord is My Shepherd.” I say I didn’t. She tells me what to Google to find it online. And then she switches gears abruptly: “Would you pray for my daughter? She’s a lost sheep.”
Allison says, “She’s not where she needs to be.”
-
I am reading The Essex Serpent, and I’m rooting for the country preacher to fight temptation and stay faithful to his wife. Spoiler alert (this is hardly a spoiler as you see it coming from the back-cover-blurb): he does not. But then (and this is actually surprising) he does. The last chapter is confusing, but this much is clear—the preacher loves his wife and has deep faith; so God, in His grace, enables the preacher to put aside the affair and keep loving his wife. Faithfully. Even joyfully.
When the preacher meets the woman who’ll cause him to question his commitment (to his wife, to his faith…) he is rescuing a sheep from drowning. He’s covered in mud, struggling to free the struggling animal. The woman comes to his side with strong arms and determination. Together they help the sheep avoid disaster.
Is she the sheep? Is he the sheep? Is the wife the sheep?
Every wandering sheep wreaks havoc. Upon others. And upon herself.
This is why my Airbnb host tells me to close the gate. To protect the garden, yes. But also to protect the sheep.
-
The preacher (the real-life one in the pulpit at St. Mary’s) says you can’t get a sheep out of your garden alone. You’ll have to call a friend. Best yet, call a shepherd. He says the shepherd will surely succeed at leading the sheep to the proper field, but, be sure, he won’t prioritize your garden. Shepherds care about the sheep. Above everything. Even their own safety. He says Jesus is the good shepherd. He also says Jesus is the gate. I’m not sure I know what that means, so I look it up. John chapter 10, verses 7-10:
I tell you the truth, I am the gate for the sheep. All who ever came before me were thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. He will come in and go out, and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.
Through Jesus—that’s the way to the pasture. The pasture is where the sheep belongs. It’s where life is.
Closed gates keep sheep out, and that’s helpful. But what the sheep really needs is an open gate, a gate into somewhere good, somewhere better. Best.
-
“I was a lost sheep for a long time,” says Allison, sitting beside me at St. Mary’s. “50 years.” She shakes her head. “I got divorced. The kids didn’t grow up going to church. We were a broken home.”
She says, “You know Allison means truth in Gaelic.” I didn’t know. She smiles, “Truth. It took me 50 years to find it.”
Allison never misses church now. She’s a part of prayer group on Zoom every Monday morning. She loves Psalm 23. She’s not a lost sheep anymore. There is no havoc. Only green pastures, still waters, oil on her head, an overflowing cup, protection in dark valleys, comfort, a shepherd, and a life with no lack.
She wants a life like this for her daughter. For everyone.
I Google the song she recommends when I get home. The verses are a straightforward recital of Psalm 23. “The Lord's my Shepherd I'll not want. He makes me lie in pastures green.” “He guides my ways in righteousness. And He anoints my head with oil.” “And though I walk the darkest path…” Then the chorus, an added refrain:
And I will trust in You alone…
Your goodness will lead me home.
-JL
More Sheep
A few delightful stories about sheep-antics:
A Life Update:
I am back in the United States living in NW Arkansas, writing books and raising teenagers.
Our trip to Ireland was holy. Seeing friends in England equally so.
This summer brings a new Holy Ghost Stories resource for groups or personal study (coming in June), a Storied Family workshop in Tuscumbia, AL, and, Lord willing, lots of quiet for finishing my current book projects.
Thanks for asking. You did ask, right?
A Storied Family CAMP?!
Coming this fall—Storied Family Camp! I can’t believe this is a real thing, but it totally is. This October you’re invited to join Justin and I (and a team of partners) in Rocksprings, TX for three days of fun, connection, adventure, learning, worship, and STORY! You’ll spend time in nature, do something brave together as a family, grow in your ability to tell (and live) better stories together, and (bonus!) hear a Holy Ghost Stories story told live around a fire while eating s’mores. Come on. That’s goood.
Follow the link for more info. It’s not cheap. I know. I wish we could do better. But we have food to buy and facilities to rent and staff to pay—it’s a whole thing. I promise though, if you have the money, this is a great way to invest it.
Feel free to respond to this email with any questions. We want to see you (and your awesome kids) in Texas this fall!
P.S. In case you’re concerned about spending the weekend with a hoard of strangers: We expect for this to be a small group of somewhere between 10 and 20 families. Expect an intimate, warm, casual vibe.
One more thing
My kids created podcast episodes for NPR’s annual student podcasting competition. London’s is a love letter to nature words (beautiful). Eve’s is a reflection on our family’s recent pilgrimage. I dare you not to cry.
This story reminds me of me now, but I have 2 daughters, they aren't from a broken home but from unequally yoked parents, one parent who tried to attend church regular but was easily distracted by life and her husband and the other parent who lived for the here and now in the secular world and who knew little about living as a Christian should.
I am the one parent who was easily distracted but has found her way back after many years, I am finally on track and in a place where I understand what God wants from me, don't get me wrong I have a long way to go and still fail a lot, like everyone, but I think I get it now and want so bad to show and tell everyone what I see and feel now, I have something in me that I don't think I have ever had or just never recognized it and I want my girls and husband to have it as well as every non Christian and secular Christian I know.
This story resonated with me and wanted to share, thank you for your knowledge and the book look to love is such a breath of fresh air and a wonderful new way to read the bible.
Thank you so much ❣️, bless
you for taking your very limited,
much in desire, time, to check
in with me🙏. love in Christ, Jan