I identify as a sheep
A rather simple, defenseless member of a certain flock
Led by an outstanding Shepherd
I hear his voice, I follow him,
He leads, provides, and protects me
Around me are many other sheep and also some goats
(wolves come by sometimes too)
When I or another sheep wander away and get in trouble
He finds us, rescues us, and folds us back in, healing the wounds of our misadventures
Those outside the flock often misunderstand who we are,
This bedraggled, mixed-up assortment of bleaters, eaters,
Followers of this Shepherd, we are his sheep
He loves us so much and we can’t even explain why
We can only say that he loves them too,
And they are welcome to end their wandering ways and join us.
That’s what we did, that’s all that we did, and he did the rest
As we follow, he continually washes us, pulls out the nits and gnats and creepy-crawlies,
Shows us the path ahead, gently prodding with rod and staff to keep us tracking with him
We try to get along with each other,
And apart from the trickery of wolves and imposters, we usually do,
(however it looks from the outside)
We are all different sizes, shapes, and colors
Some have followed the Good Shepherd for years and some only for a little while
Either way, he cares for us in all the ways we need him to–
He comforts our fears and sorrows,
And tells us to remain calm, like a mother settles her fussy baby.
It’s not much of a position in this world, to be a sheep
But our Shepherd is not of this world, and he tells us we also are not of this world
So we’re not ashamed to say, loud and clear,
“I identify as a sheep.”
