"I have strayed like a lost sheep. Seek your servant, for I have not forgotten your promises."

Dear Lizzie Mae,

I feel like that sometimes. Like a lost sheep. Alone, all tangled up in the morass of my mistakes and wrongheaded decisions? Feeling really, really stupid and small?

Well? . . . maybe I am! A lost sheep, that is. The eraser on the end of my pencil is so worn down that I feel and hear its metal encasement scrape against the paper of life. I tell myself that I am mistake prone, stupid, small and alone. Yep, that's me.

On the other hand, who's looking?

Well, DUH! I AM! How hard is it to amp up self-condemnation? Not very. I say that I am my own worst critic; a cliche designed to mollify the huge negative, emotional impact of thinking of myself as nothing more than a dipstick for a used-up camel. Somewhere along the freeway, I just up and stepped out of the car, and life went on, leaving me spinning on the pavement.

But, suppose it's someone else? Someone rejected me, provided input that made me feel small, like personal criticism, fired me from a job, etc. I can't think of anyone who looks on mean-spirited, hate or ridicule-driven accusation and criticism, as something to be coveted. The ancient ditty about "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me," is 180 degrees out -- to put it rather timidly. All of us know people whose lives have been utterly destroyed by destructive, harm-intended words.

Wait a minute. Suppose it's God? Now. This is the all-consuming knife that really cuts. If I think that God has rejected me, if I believe that God loves others, but not me; somewhere in this storm called human existence, I surely must have committed the big 'U,' (the 'unpardonable' sin.)

These thoughts will destroy not only one's life, they can destroy one's soul. You are lying on life's path wounded and bleeding, and unlike the good Samaritan, and more like a self-righteous priest, God looks upon you with disgust, turns away, and crosses the street, just to pass you by.

You are a lost sheep indeed. Caught, lost and alone in the thorns of self-loathing, accused and condemned by others, so much so that even God forsakes you.

Touched a nerve, yet?

Struggle, if you must, with your agony, with your pain. But if you can disengage just for a moment, and come to stillness, you may hear, you just might hear -- footsteps coming in your direction. You just might feel the nearness of his love. You just might feel the thorns and brambles being removed from around your body, from around your head. You just might feel the oil of the Spirit being poured into your wounds. You just might feel yourself lifted, caressed, comforted, forgiven. You will become aware that there is no more pain.

You will know that you have been found.

What can I say, Lizzie Mae? God sent you when I was a mere 18 months old. I guess for Him, I was never lost.

-- PDM