I recently found an old sheep-shearing machine in the log barn on our old homeplace. The old log barn is the only barn left standing on the farm after all these years. There the sheep-shearing machine was, lying in the dirt. I brought it home and cleaned it up, and since I don’t usually like the color of rust, I painted it black. It is an old model shipped in from Chicago in the early 1900’s. It is a manual hand-cranked machine. My Dad would usually get someone to turn the main handle and then he would take the long handle with a shearer on the end and cut off the wool of the sheep. That was before electricity allowed us to conform to the electric-type shearing machine.
I was only a child when this machine was used because most of my memories are of the electric machine. However, both machines involved the same process. Spring was the time of the year to shear the sheep. After a long winter and plenty of heavy wool hanging loosely on the sheep, they began to show the signs of discomfort. We would take them to the mountain pastureland and put them through the process. We started early in the morning. I can still remember how long the day was and how at the end of the day my skin was pink from the sun.
The sheep were kept in a side pen until their time to be put on the old wooden table to be sheared. When their time came they were caught (which was one of my chief responsibilities) and after binding their legs they were put on the table. The reason their legs were bound was to keep them from kicking and receiving unnecessary cuts. Some sheep would still kick and they ended up with lots of red marks on their beautiful white skin. They wouldn’t lie still for the shearing. I felt so sorry for these sheep. I still do. They would go back into the pen and their blood would rub onto the other sheep. They stood out.
Believers are like sheep and there are times that our wool is hanging loose from the past season. The winter has been long. The old wool needs to come off. When the Father places us on the table with our legs bound, we often misunderstand the process and question His love for us. We kick. Sometimes He uses circumstances or others to hold us back. He often uses leaders (such as pastors) to hold us back for a season, and we don’t like that either. We kick. When it is Father ordained, the holding back is for our best. The more we learn to rest and relax in the process the whiter the skin at the end of the day. As a pastoral leader, it grieves me to hold someone back. I usually have to overcome feelings of guilt about it. However, it grieves me more when they kick and the cut marks scar their beautiful skin. It grieves everyone else when they return to the pen and get blood on others.
One of my jobs was to tamp the wool into the sack. The sack was over six feet long. I would stand at the top of the sack and jump up and down and tamp the wool into the sack. It was fun. Once the burlap sack was full it was tied. It was a huge thing and three or four would fill up the back of a truck. As kids, we would jump up and down on the sacks and roll around. The sacks of wool were the reward of some hard days of work. It signaled the end of a season and the beginning of a new one. We would haul the wool to market and receive payment. The sheep were turned back out into the pasture to enjoy the green grass. It would be another year before they would have to go through the process again. The new season would begin with new spring grass and new lambs playing by their side. The summer wouldn’t seem so hot since they were freshly sheared.
Rewards are often a funny thing. Some are obvious and honorable. Others are hidden and mysterious. Some we just tamp into the big burlap sack of life and instantly enjoy them. Others are just the smile of the Master letting us know He is well pleased. Then, there is the reward of suffering. “May the Lamb of God receive the reward of His suffering.” These words are those of the Moravians as they launched out to share their faith. They left their homelands, families and friends to go where God would lead them. For them it was a new season in which they often had no idea what it would entail or where it would take them.
I recently took the old sheep-shearing machine and placed it in my yard. It is under a dogwood tree. There is a snowball bush nearby. Honeysuckle is growing on a rock cliff beside the machine. Some other flower bushes add to the décor. It is a nice ornament and causes me to often reflect on the sheep shearing days. A prophet recently visited and I explained what the ornament was and how it was used back in the day. As the prophetic gifting began to churn inside…. this was the word for me. “The Father is turning the wheel of the sheep-shearing machine. You have had to tie the feet of several of the sheep and although you, and they, don’t like it, it is necessary for their process. The old wool is coming off. If they don’t kick so much there won’t be so many cuts and so much blood. The rock cliff is nearby and your heart is to search for the one sheep that might fall off the cliff. The snowball bush is significant in reminding us how white we become after the process. The dogwood leaves remind us of the cross. The flowers remind us that Jesus is the rose of sharon and the lily of the valley. He is ever near in all of the process.” Putting it all together, it is a beautiful picture.
It is springtime and the time of the shearing of the sheep. Are we ready for the process? Do we feel tied or shelved by the Master? Are we relaxed in His hands or are we kicking? Do we smell the flowers of His presence about us? How long has it been since we have seriously looked at the cross? Have we felt the Lord washing us and realized that we have become as white as the snow? (see Psalms 51:7) Is it our earnest desire that the Lamb receive the full reward of His suffering?
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