Joseph, the son of Jacob grew up caring for flocks, a shepherd boy,(Genesis 37:2). While we might have a romantic view of an easy pastoral life among sheep and goats, the main responsibility of a shepherd was to protect the flock against hungry predators (wolves, lions, etc.) looking for an easy meal, actually quite a dangerous job. The shepherd loved his sheep; and Joseph was a good shepherd.
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In Israel, we often see goats and sheep roaming the countryside. Driving through rural Israel often involves suddenly stopping to allow a herd of sheep or goats to cross the road. But interestingly, I have never seen “sheep kill” on the side of the road in all the years that I’ve lived in Israel. It’s because sheep don’t roam without a shepherd!
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A good pastor friend of ours told us that his congregation was experiencing some hardships and division. How often does this happen among us? It breaks my heart — and I believe the Lord weeps over this too.
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An organization in Montana offered a bounty of five thousand dollars for every wolf captured alive. Two hunters decided to head for the hills and make some money capturing wolves. Day and night, they scoured the mountains and forests searching for their valuable prey. Exhausted after three days of hunting without success, they both fell asleep.
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The captain of a submarine was once asked, “How did the terrible storm last night affect you?” The officer looked at him in surprise and exclaimed, “Storm? We didn’t even know there was one!”
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A major earthquake struck Taiwan over the weekend, which triggered a tsunami warning as far away as Japan.
This reminded me of when we first moved to Israel, in 2003.
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Missionaries Dick and Margaret Hillis found themselves caught in China during the Japanese invasion. The couple lived with their two children in the inland town of Shenkiu. The village was tense with fear, for every day brought terrifying reports of the Japanese advance. At the worst possible time, Dick developed appendicitis, and he knew his life depended on making the long journey to the hospital. On January 15, 1941, with deep foreboding, Margaret watched him leave.
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