The lost sheep

Intermittent web access means I am rather losing track of time, blogwise, but yesterday we managed to lose one of the group. We were skiing together in the afternoon, shepherding along those who had only begun skiing the day before. All was going swimmingly well, until someone failed to stop at a junction and skiid off down the wrong piste.

I knew where we were going, so I showed someone else the simple way home that I had planned to take, and bombed off after the lost sheep of the group.

He hadn’t stopped at the next junction either. I assumed he had carried on along the same piste and shot from red-topped man to red-topped man, with junctions flying by on the left and the right. He was nowhere to be seen, and as I approached a lift I worked out that I have less than a 5% chance of finding him, with all the options that had come up for changing route.

So I abandoned him.

I felt bad, mind you, but what else could I do? The lifts were not far off closing, and I still had to traverse most of the mountain. I figured he would find a route back, or if the worst came to the worst he would get a taxi or bus from whatever resort he ended up in at the bottom of the piste.

WWJD? You’ve seen the bracelets, but what would Jesus have done then? The good shepherd abandoned the 99 and went and found the one. I left the 6 and tried to find the one, but he couldn’t be found. He is an adult and chose his own route, and got back in the end.

I wonder how God feels about us choosing to be alone, though? He’s better at finding us, but allows us the respect of making our own choices.