sheep, treasure, & negative spaces

Psychologically speaking, I am a statistic.

I was abused as a child. I acted out as a teen/college kid. I still wrestle with boundaries and healthy relationship as an adult.

I have an addiction. It's messy and I don't talk about it because it's painful and humiliating. I wrestle with it almost every day, and it's worse some parts of the year than it is others.

There's a pattern; I fit it. I'm a statistic.

And wow, does that ever bruise the ego of a thoroughly American post-modernist Gen-Me'er.

According to the culture I was raised in, everyone is supposed to like everyone else; all of our feelings are valid because they're ours; you are beautiful, and so am I, each in our own way.

We are not mere numbers. We certainly are not statistics.

Spiritually speaking, I am lost.

I don't go to church regularly - in fact, I just missed a month of Sundays. I don't talk to God because most of the time I just yell at Him, and then I get tired of yelling questions that don't get answered, so I just stop talking. And anyone that called me pious or faithful, well, that's better than calling me a Republican, but they'd still get a look.

I'm that lost sheep everyone knows from the story that got lost or distracted or addicted and never made it back to the pen with the good little rams and ewes. But because I look like a sheep and I talk like a sheep, all the sheep think I must be just fine as I am.

There's a definition, and I fit it. So I be a statistical, lost sheep.

I dragged myself out of bed today and made it to church. The sermon was part of a sermon called "Stuff God <3s" and today, God loves treasure. There was a Scripture (about a sheep), and then the pastor talked about how the God he serves actively, passionately pursues what He finds beautiful.

Here's what my version of the Bible said:

Make sure you do not look down on the little ones, on those who struggle, on those who are further behind you on the path of righteousness. For I tell you: they are watched over by those most beloved messengers who are always in the company of My Father in heaven. [The Son of Man has come to save all those who are lost.] A shepherd in charge of 100 sheep notices that one of his sheep has gone astray. What do you think he should do? Should the shepherd leave the flock on the hills unguarded to search for the lost sheep? God's shepherd goes to look for that one lost sheep, and when he finds her, he is happier about her return than he is about the 99 who stayed put. Your Father in heaven does not want a single one of the tripped, waylaid, stumbling little ones to be lost.

Then the pastor, Paul, made a few comments that really got me thinking. 

He said the kept sheep know the other sheep is lost; they can hear it crying and they probably saw it wander - but they had a pen to get to, where they were safe and fed and content.

He continued with we all know it says somewhere in the Bible.... in some book towards the back that we shouldn't judge; that we don't know everything going on in someone's life, and we should really just not get involved with something that's not really our business in the first place.

So out comes the cliche "we'll pray for you" and the conversation becomes something like this:

Person with Problem: Hey, I need to talk to you about something.
Person who Could Help: Cool, let's grab a mocha.
Person with Problem: Yeah, I can't afford Starbucks, and it's kinda personal.
Person who Could Have Helped: Oh... well, I don't really have a lot of time. What if I just pray that God helps you with whatever it is? He's, y'know, big and powerful and cares... and stuff.

Paul then baldly stated: We say we'll pray, hoping God will send someone else to deal with the mess we don't want to acknowledge exists.

And so, we close our eyes to the problems, fold our hands in complacency, and wonder why nothing ever changes.

There seems to be this perception (read: big ugly lie) that if you sit on a pew, you're somehow ok or better or healthier than those that don't; that by making an effort, God sees you as a little cleaner, a bit closer to the pen.

I call Bull. Where your butt happens to be doesn't dictate where your soul is going, nor where your treasure lies. We all wander. We all get scared. We all live in a dark world, far from our souls' home.

Redemption doesn't depend on practice, and Jesus loves me in the pretty church on the corner as much as He loves me when I am in the dark places where my addiction festers. But I need a flock. I need people I know will notice when I wander, and who will ask why. I need to know where good, rich soul food is, and I need to be able to tell others about it, too.


I know my Shepherd is good, but He is not safe... and I need to be able to baa about it sometimes.


I am a statistical sheep. I serve a Shepherd enamored with the beauty created by tension in the negative spaces. I am His wandering treasure, and He is my hope.