My Epiphany Moment... Involving Sheep

There is a wonderful moment in the Simpsons Movie in which Homer is forced into having an 'Epiphany' by the enviably-named "boob lady." She calls it, "Sudden realisation of great truth."

Anyway, we are now in the Church season of Epiphany.  Before Christmas became fashionable in the Victorian period, Epiphany was the big winter feast.  Christmas is about Christ's presence in the world, which is important, but Epiphany is the first time people (the magi and the shepherds who visit Jesus at Bethlehem) begin to realise just what the great truth of that presence means, which is far more important.  In epiphany we are called to reflect on what exactly it is about Christ that we perhaps need to 'realise' in a shocking way.

 

I had that great epiphany moment the other day.  It is a story that involves white sheep... and a big white field.  I think you can probably guess where this is going.

Lyndon was sent to move the sheep and I was asked to help him.  Now, finding sheep in a big snow-covered field is not easy.  Usually they run to you when you jangle a bucket of food, but on this morning... nothing.

We checked the other fields just in case they had skipped the fence.  Nothing.  No tyre tracks, but then again it had been snowing pretty heavily, so maybe rustlers' tracks would have been covered.  We were both beginning to panic, wondering what exactly we were going to say to the estate manager if the sheep were gone.  "Errrr, we couldn't find the sheep," didn't feel like it would cut the mustard.

After about fifteen minutes we agree to go in opposite directions around the fence, in case they are sheltering in a small bit of tree cover.  And lo and behold, we hear a bleat... followed by another.

"I have never been so glad to see a sheep," were Lyndon's words.  I had to agree.

But it really made me think.  I had taken the sheep for granted.  I assumed they would always be there and that when it came to the point at which the freezer was running low there would always be one to... err... restock it.  It took my feeling that the sheep had been taken away from me to realise just how valuable they were.

To quote a million anglican sermons, "God is a bit like this."  And He really is.  In our prayer lives, many Christians yearn to be nearer to God, to know Him a little better each time they pray, and like me they are generally disappointed with the lacklustre results they achieve.  It is what St John of the Cross calls 'spiritual avarice,' because we are greedy for God, and try to consume more of Him than God knows we are ready for.

Perhaps my search for the 'perfect' way to pray, the 'perfect' way to serve and the 'perfect' way to love God was just this God-greed.  Through my feeling that He isn't hearing my prayers 95% of the time I actually have to have the faith to trust that he always hears them.  How strong would my faith be if I always felt that God was there and took Him for granted.  Now, I give thanks to God for that wonderful 5% where prayer seems to work, and I thank God for the gift of the 95% in which I am staring into the empty snowy field, now trusting that the sheep are there.

Lord God, teach me to pray.

Teach me to pray humbly,

And if it is your will

Leave me in the seeming darkness

So that I may learn to trust

In the light that is always with me,

Jesus Christ Our Lord.

Amen