Many refuse the 'milk' Christ has to offer

Built on a Rock

It’s been a long night. Or a short one. Depends how you look at it. I caught a few winks in the recliner, but most of the night was spent on the floor of the kitchen with a sick lamb. She was clinging to life and I so desperately wanted her to live. I lost a newborn lamb a few days ago and I didn’t want a repeat.

We had just picked her up from the big farm earlier in the evening. She baaed all the way home and seemed fine when I put her in her new shelter with her two roommates, Pippi and Pirate. We gave her the name Pansy and supplied her with a few ounces to drink and left the three youngsters to get acquainted.

When I returned for their bedtime feeding, things had changed drastically and I could see our newest addition was in distress. I am definitely no sheep expert, but I decided maybe she was cold and I took her to the house to warm her. She wasn’t able to stand and could hardly let out a sound, but I wrapped her in a warm towel and snuggled her on my lap in front of the furnace vent and started googling what to do with a sick lamb.

Google is a wonderful thing when you are looking for answers, but it can also be very disheartening when you are pretty sure what needs to be done, but you don’t have the right tools. Google suggested, and the thermometer verified, that the lamb was hypothermic. She needed to get warmed up, which I was working on, and she needed milk in her belly. The problem was she wouldn’t drink from the bottle. Tube feeding was an option, but I didn’t have the necessary equipment and I wasn’t about to call around trying to find one in the wee hours of the morning.

I attempted repeatedly to get her to take the bottle or to at least swallow the milk that I could get into her mouth, but with little success. I tried to reason with her that if she didn’t drink she was going to die, but she didn’t seem to understand.

As I knelt on the floor watching her struggle to survive, the tears began to flow. Not for the lamb (well, maybe a little), but mostly for the people in my life that the lamb represents, people to whom I have offered Living Water, but they refuse to swallow; people who ignore warning signs; people who brush off any attempts to help them; people who reject the free gift of salvation through Jesus Christ. My heart ached from the feeling of helplessness as I drifted off to sleep.

And while I cannot make someone drink the Living Water any more than I can make a baby lamb slurp up a bottle of warm milk, I CAN pray for them.

Heavenly Father, You are the Good Shepherd. You are everything that I want, and I want so badly for others to want you, too. By your grace and mercy, pour out your Spirit that all people would repent of their sins and be drawn to you. Replace their heart of stone with a heart of flesh and help them be receptive to hear your voice. I pray that they will know the truth and the truth will set them free. Raise them from the dead because of your great love. Amen, let it be done.

In case you are wondering, Pansy made it through the night until I was able to get a tube to feed her, and she is doing much better.

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