Little Lamb of God....

When he saw Jesus passing by, he said, "Look, the Lamb of God!" - John 1:36

I sat down in the grass one night, the air crisp and cold. Nothing moved, nothing rustled - there was only the sound of the wind. The sheep all lay sleeping, huddled in their groups, and I knew, with a moon like this, danger would be on the prowl.

It's hard to stay awake. Hard to not nod off when there is such quiet, such peace. So, I shoved my staff into the ground and clasp my hands tightly around it, pulling myself to my feet - starting my pace around the outer parameter of the flock, gingerly through the breaks in the herd. All is well. To my left a new born lamb, still wet with it's mother's water, feeding softly. She nuzzles the lamb, snuggles it in close.

Kneeling at the side of this mother and her lamb, I remember a time when I was young, kneeling at the side of another lamb. This one more unique than any I could ever imagine. This lamb was born to be a sacrifice. Humbly He was born into the arms of a loving mother and an earthly father, still His heavenly Father stood watch. This lamb would be led to the slaughter and not a soul would offer him reprieve.

I saw him the night the angels led us into the city. Beautiful, peaceful and small, yet all I could do was worship him. He was an amazing sight. Just a baby, like any other baby - ten fingers and ten toes, pudgy legs and dimples. He had eyes that spoke to those who gazed into them. Yet, there was something different about Him. Something special.

I sunk my fingers into the wool of this ewe and scratched her head, praising her for the work she'd done to bring this lamb into the world. But I remember the look on the face of Mary - tender, pleased, joyful. Still a distinct sadness hung over her. She knew what none the rest of us could foresee. She knew what lay ahead for this child, this lamb, this sacrifice. What a bittersweet time for her. Elated that she has a son, broken hearted that he would die. Pleased that he is her child, torn that he is not hers to keep.

We sang to him this song:

Little lamb, tender and sweet,

You who lay at the Master's feet.

Born to bring us hope and love,

Given freely by the Father above.

Little lamb, given in peace and awe.

Favored by all who gazed upon you and saw

The gift which came to save,

The sacrifice who would overcome the grave.

Little lamb, tender and sweet,

You who lay at the Master's feet.

Born to us without hesitation this day,

Given to us to guide the way.

Cindy Sproles