I see them dig today. Ebony skin glistening in the beaming sun. Shovels, unearthing everything deep and red. A little boy walks nearby, the look in their eyes is determined, fierce, purposed, unified….

And we all dig, sometimes. Some dig to build, others to plant. And then there are those that dig graves with words left unsaid.

I see them today – Scattered sheep. Lost, abandoned, tackling a life where leaders are just people, love remains untainted, and God still does the miracle of repairing unbelievably hearts.

They fight for love, the courageous few. They wrestle together, but are as it says in Scritpure…sheep who’s Shepherd has been stricken…scattered, looking for sure footing.

I see them today, the self-righteous ones. Rising in name, title or denomination. They count what they’re worth by external measure, and rise in control, slaying mindlessly with their arrogance….

Has their consciousness been severed?

They cut down instead of reach up, worry about their reputation and presentations more than their own hearts or holiness.

And their poison will destroy us, if we let it. Hate can seep right down to the bone and the marrow, where Jesus is supposed to live….

Yes, self-righteousness spreads like the cancer that left my grandmother struggling for breath.

Pride is like a silent, unseen epidemic leaving us all weaker and darker, and a little more dead in the end.

I see them today, the ones Ghandi mentioned, “I like your Christ, but I don’t like your Christians. They are nothing like your Christ.”

And I measure my own heart, check my own pulse, gather my own breath, because hate can be captivating and sin is wild about spreading.

Unforgiveness and bitterness, their own kind of poison, running rampant if undetected, sitting dormant, yet vial and destructive.

I see them today – The ones like His true disciples; self-less, sacrifical, showing Christ with more than words, but with humility and servitude. They gather works, not based on merit, but from a genuine, self-less, surrendered heart…

And they have taught me how not to budge, push, or change for society. But give slowly and tender, honest and willingness.

Truth broke me and converted my soul by their waiting to be last, taking the garbage out after Sunday School, and insisting they are not holy, but broken just like me.

Yes, they teach me. These scattered sheep, refusing to let man’s dication give titles to carnal personas.

Yes, I see them today….the lost sheep of Israel, begging to be home. Longing for His heart, though man’s rule is harsh and unforgiving, law-filled and imprisoning.

Isn’t it for freedom Christ set us free? Us sheep tuning carefully, our ear to the Father’s heart.

And yet, we hear so many voices? Those calling, “I am holy”, “Come follow me!”

We can be blinded by big churches, swaying sermons, empty flattery calling us to bow to the personal golden calf within us.

Didn’t the first church spread because of persecution? Didn’t God lead people like Abraham and Moses out into deserts, so they couldn’t rely on their own ego, knowledge, wisdom or influences?

Could it be, we were made to wander? Move? Change? Grow? Even follow if in the desert?

Change pots, so our roots can grow deepers, change bases so we can grow wider….instead of hiding parasites in our selfish stagnation?

When did God’s people start allowing their fame to become greater than that of Jesus’?

Didn’t Francis Chan say,

“Christians are like manure: spread them out and they help everything grow better, but keep them in one big pile and they stink horribly.”

• I saw Him in the slums today. In the faces of Africans digging to build His church.
• I saw Him in those seeking, to help the lost through difficult transitions.
• I saw Him in a child, crying out with open arms up, begging for me to hold them.

He is alive today, in the smiles of gigling children. In the warm embrace, bold words, and rich text of black and white Scripture….

And yet, it can feel lonely, to look for a humble Christ in a church that grows bigger with strategies, larger stages, and a people worshipping leaders…instead of following Christ.

God’s people start decking themselves out with artifical purposes, cloth themselves with masks of lies….

How often have I easily missed Him, amidst the loud and proud, those who claim Christ with their mouth, but deny Him in the hidden places of their very own homes…

Yet, He calls out to us, the sheep. Those of us scattered, broken, needy. He clothes the lilies, cares for the sparrow…is whispering to us, the wandering…

Beckoning to us each, “This is the way home”.

The twelve were scattered, yet expanded the gospel. The first prophets moved often. The message was spread, not because of their great wealth or wisdom, but because of His goodness.

When will we be sick of withering walls, material riches that deceive us in their hope and morbidity…offering promises yet never seeming to keep them.

I need a Christ who lives, walks quietly and humbly, dwelled among His people with love, selflessness and sacrificialty …

A God who thought so much of His wandering sheep, that He stretch His arms wide, and sufficated inside before they took Him off that old rugged cross.

Not proud, or arrogant. Instead, He snuck up in a manger in the quiet of night and lay there, waiting…for those who have eyes to see Him.

He is the Great “I am”, the Holy One of Israel. The God who allowed the sheep to scatter, so they could reach nations, preach His goodness and spread the gospel…

Before finally, making their way home.