Feed My Sheep
My friend recently sent this poem to me and I thought I would write few of my thoughts. It has been a while since I last wrote a weekly contemplation and so I hope you enjoy this one.
I had been in that hole for a very long time
In the dark and the damp, in the cold and the slime.
The shaft was above me; I could see it quite clear
But there's no way I ever could reach it from here.
Nor could I remember the world way up there
So I lost all my hope and gave in to despair.
I knew nothing but darkness, the floor, and the walls
Then off in the distance I heard someone call:
"Get up! Get ready! There's nothing the matter.
Take rocks and old sticks and build up a fine ladder."
This had never occurred to me-- had not crossed my mind.
But I started to stack all the stones I could find.
When I ran out of stones, then old sticks were my goal,
For one way or another I'd get out of that hole.
So I soon had a ladder that was sturdy and tall
And I thought, "I'll soon leave this place once and for all."
I climbed up my ladder. It was no easy chore,
For from lifting those boulders, my shoulders were sore.
I climbed on up the ladder, but soon had to stop
For my ladder stopped short-- some ten feet from the top.
I climbed back down my ladder and started to cry
I'd done all I could do. I gave my best try.
And in spite of my work, in this hole I must die.
And all I could do was to sit and think, "Why?"
Was my ladder too short? Or my hole much too deep
Then from way upon high came a voice, "Do not weep."
And then faith, hope, and love entered into my chest
As the voice said to me that I'd done my best.
He said, "You've worked very hard, and your labor's been rough,
But the ladder you've built is at last tall enough.
Do not despair. You have reason to hope.
Just climb up your ladder; I'll throw down my rope."
I climbed up the ladder, then climbed up the cord.
When I got to the top, there stood the Lord.
I couldn't be happier; my struggle was done.
I blinked in the brightness that came from the Son.
I fell to the ground, His feet did I kiss
I cried, "What can I do to repay thee for this?"
Then He looked all about Him. There were holes in the ground
They had people inside, and were seen all around
There were thousands of holes that were damp, dark, and deep
Then the Lord turned to me and He said, "Feed my sheep."
Then He went on His way to help other lost souls,
And I got right to work, calling down to the holes:
"Get up! Get ready! There's nothing the matter.
Take rocks and old sticks and build up a fine ladder."
It now was my turn to spread the good word.
The most glorious message that man ever heard.
That there's one who is willing to save one and all
And we've got to be ready when He gives the call.
He'll pull us all out of the hole that we're in
And save all our souls from death and from sin.
So do not lose faith; there is reason to hope
Just build up your ladder; He'll throw down His rope.
I have always loved this poem and was introduced to it while I was serving as a full time missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the Philippines. My friend sent it to me because they said that when they heard it they thought of me. I am grateful that they sent it to me because it reminded me of the reason why I had left my home in Layton Utah and had traveled 10,000 miles to a new country where I couldn’t speak the language and where I knew no one. Everyone is like the person in the poem, stuck in a hole with no way to get out. We inherited that when we chose to come to this earth. Because of the Fall of Adam we all were placed in these holes that without help we could never get out of. Elder Jeffery R. Holland of the quorum of the twelve apostles tells of a story of two brothers that illustrate perfectly our need for help. He said:
“Without safety ropes, harnesses, or climbing gear of any kind, two brothers—Jimmy, age 14, and John, age 19 (though those aren’t their real names)—attempted to scale a sheer canyon wall in Snow Canyon State Park in my native southern Utah. Near the top of their laborious climb, they discovered that a protruding ledge denied them their final few feet of ascent. They could not get over it, but neither could they now retreat from it. They were stranded. After careful maneuvering, John found enough footing to boost his younger brother to safety on top of the ledge. But there was no way to lift himself. The more he strained to find finger or foot leverage, the more his muscles began to cramp. Panic started to sweep over him, and he began to fear for his life.
Unable to hold on much longer, John decided his only option was to try to jump vertically in an effort to grab the top of the overhanging ledge. If successful, he might, by his considerable arm strength, pull himself to safety.
In his own words, he said:
“Prior to my jump I told Jimmy to go search for a tree branch strong enough to extend down to me, although I knew there was nothing of the kind on this rocky summit. It was only a desperate ruse. If my jump failed, the least I could do was make certain my little brother did not see me falling to my death.
“Giving him enough time to be out of sight, I said my last prayer—that I wanted my family to know I loved them and that Jimmy could make it home safely on his own—then I leapt. There was enough adrenaline in my spring that the jump extended my arms above the ledge almost to my elbows. But as I slapped my hands down on the surface, I felt nothing but loose sand on flat stone. I can still remember the gritty sensation of hanging there with nothing to hold on to—no lip, no ridge, nothing to grab or grasp. I felt my fingers begin to recede slowly over the sandy surface. I knew my life was over.
My beloved brothers and sisters, today is Easter Sunday. Although we should always remember (we promise in our weekly sacramental prayers that we will), nevertheless this is the most sacred day of the year for special remembrance of brotherly hands and determined arms that reached into the abyss of death to save us from our fallings and our failings, from our sorrows and our sins. Against the background of this story reported by John and Jimmy’s family, I express my gratitude for the Atonement and Resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ and acknowledge events in the divine plan of God that led up to and give meaning to “the love Jesus offers [us].”2
The Savior of the world was sent so that the effects of the fall would be overcome. Without him we would be like the person in the story stuck in the hole forever, and like John in Elder Holland’s story, hanging on the edge of a cliff with no grip, no way to pull ourselves to safety, and eventually falling to our deaths. I am so thankful that God sacrificed his only begotten son so that we might one day return to him. In return to the gift he has so graciously given us he asks us to follow his commandments and “feed his sheep”. We are to share the gospel to our friends and anyone that would hear it.
I mentioned before that poem I have added into this contemplation reminded me of the reason I served a mission. I would like to write about it now but in doing so I am going to share a very personal story that not many people know and I wish for those reading to understand the sacredness of it.
It all started June 11th, 2011 the day my life changed. My father passed away due to a heart attack. That was the beginning of me realizing how deep of a hole I was being placed. I felt confused, angry, and mostly hurt because this had happened to me. I didn’t know why and I don’t know if I will. As time drew on the feelings of sorrow that were in me wouldn’t go away and in fact they were getting worse. I used football as a way to make it so my body would hurt so bad that I couldn’t feel the emotional pain but that lead to injuries that took me away from the sport I loved. I felt like I had lost most of my friends and that there was no one that understood what I was going through. Time passed and football ended. I now had no where to go to try to get ride of my emotional pain so it began to grow. My older brother and hero then went on a mission which meant that I was loosing yet another person in my life that I loved at least for a little while. It came to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore; I was driving home from a party one night and I came to the conclusion that it was better to end my life than to keep living. I took my car going 50 or 60 miles per hour and decided that was going drive it into a light pole and see what would happen. So I turned my wheel so that I faced the light post but at the last minute before I hit the pole something made me turn the wheel missing the light post. I pulled over and realized what had just happened. I rushed home and told my mom everything because it scared me so bad that I needed to tell someone. I can only imagine what my mom thought as I told her of what I had almost just done but her response is one I will never forget. She gave me a hug and said “you know if you kill yourself you won’t be able to be with your father again.” I had never realized that until she said it. The next morning, I didn’t go to school but instead went to the temple. I was the only one doing baptism that day and the officiator asked me “aren’t you supposed to be in school” I told him that I had been going through a hard time and that there was no where else in the world that I would rather be than at the temple. To which he responded “you made a good choice.” I stayed for a while reading my scriptures and wondered if God was really there, if he really knew my name, and if he even cared. I never felt an overwhelming feeling of love but now I didn’t want to end my life anymore and felt that maybe, I didn’t know how, but things would turn out alright. It was at that moment that I realized as well that without the gospel there was no way for me ever to be with my father again. At that moment I knew that when it came time for me to serve a mission I would go to try to save at least one person or one family the way the Gospel had saved me.
Missionary work is not easy; It was never meant to be. “Anyone who does any kind of missionary work will have occasion to ask, Why is this so hard? Why doesn’t it go better? Why can’t our success be more rapid? Why aren’t there more people joining the Church? It is the truth. We believe in angels. We trust in miracles. Why don’t people just flock to the font? Why isn’t the only risk in missionary work that of pneumonia from being soaking wet all day and all night in the baptismal font?
You will have occasion to ask those questions. I have thought about this a great deal. I offer
this as my personal feeling. I am convinced that missionary work is not easy because salvation is not a cheap experience. Salvation never was easy. We are The Church of Jesus Christ, this is the truth, and He is our Great Eternal Head. How could we believe it would be easy for us when it was never, ever easy for Him? It seems to me that missionaries and mission leaders have to spend at least a few moments in Gethsemane. Missionaries and mission leaders have to take at least a step or two toward the summit of Calvary.
Now, please don’t misunderstand. I’m not talking about anything anywhere near what Christ experienced. That would be presumptuous and sacrilegious. But I believe that missionaries and investigators, to come to the truth, to come to salvation, to know something of this price that has been paid, will have to pay a token of that same price.
For that reason I don’t believe missionary work has ever been easy, nor that conversion is, nor that retention is, nor that continued faithfulness is. I believe it is supposed to require some effort, something from the depths of our soul.
If He could come forward in the night, kneel down, fall on His face, bleed from every pore, and cry, “Abba, Father (Papa), if this cup can pass, let it pass,” 16 then little wonder that salvation is not a whimsical or easy thing for us. If you wonder if there isn’t an easier way, you should remember you are not the first one to ask that. Someone a lot greater and a lot grander asked a long time ago if there wasn’t an easier way.
The Atonement will carry the missionaries perhaps even more importantly than it will carry the investigators. When you struggle, when you are rejected, when you are spit upon and cast out and made a hiss and a byword, you are standing with the best life this world has ever known, the only pure and perfect life ever lived. You have reason to stand tall and be grateful that the Living Son of the Living God knows all about your sorrows and afflictions. The only way to salvation is through Gethsemane and on to Calvary. The only way to eternity is through Him—the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” (Elder Jeffery R. Holland, Missionary Work and The Atonement)
I pray that we will not give up as we help others come unto Christ. Never give up hope! People will accept the gospel according to their own and the Lord’s timing. May we never stop sharing the gospel and continue to “feed [God’s] sheep.”
It all started June 11th, 2011 the day my life changed. My father passed away due to a heart attack. That was the beginning of me realizing how deep of a hole I was being placed. I felt confused, angry, and mostly hurt because this had happened to me. I didn’t know why and I don’t know if I will. As time drew on the feelings of sorrow that were in me wouldn’t go away and in fact they were getting worse. I used football as a way to make it so my body would hurt so bad that I couldn’t feel the emotional pain but that lead to injuries that took me away from the sport I loved. I felt like I had lost most of my friends and that there was no one that understood what I was going through. Time passed and football ended. I now had no where to go to try to get ride of my emotional pain so it began to grow. My older brother and hero then went on a mission which meant that I was loosing yet another person in my life that I loved at least for a little while. It came to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore; I was driving home from a party one night and I came to the conclusion that it was better to end my life than to keep living. I took my car going 50 or 60 miles per hour and decided that was going drive it into a light pole and see what would happen. So I turned my wheel so that I faced the light post but at the last minute before I hit the pole something made me turn the wheel missing the light post. I pulled over and realized what had just happened. I rushed home and told my mom everything because it scared me so bad that I needed to tell someone. I can only imagine what my mom thought as I told her of what I had almost just done but her response is one I will never forget. She gave me a hug and said “you know if you kill yourself you won’t be able to be with your father again.” I had never realized that until she said it. The next morning, I didn’t go to school but instead went to the temple. I was the only one doing baptism that day and the officiator asked me “aren’t you supposed to be in school” I told him that I had been going through a hard time and that there was no where else in the world that I would rather be than at the temple. To which he responded “you made a good choice.” I stayed for a while reading my scriptures and wondered if God was really there, if he really knew my name, and if he even cared. I never felt an overwhelming feeling of love but now I didn’t want to end my life anymore and felt that maybe, I didn’t know how, but things would turn out alright. It was at that moment that I realized as well that without the gospel there was no way for me ever to be with my father again. At that moment I knew that when it came time for me to serve a mission I would go to try to save at least one person or one family the way the Gospel had saved me.
Missionary work is not easy; It was never meant to be. “Anyone who does any kind of missionary work will have occasion to ask, Why is this so hard? Why doesn’t it go better? Why can’t our success be more rapid? Why aren’t there more people joining the Church? It is the truth. We believe in angels. We trust in miracles. Why don’t people just flock to the font? Why isn’t the only risk in missionary work that of pneumonia from being soaking wet all day and all night in the baptismal font?
You will have occasion to ask those questions. I have thought about this a great deal. I offer
Now, please don’t misunderstand. I’m not talking about anything anywhere near what Christ experienced. That would be presumptuous and sacrilegious. But I believe that missionaries and investigators, to come to the truth, to come to salvation, to know something of this price that has been paid, will have to pay a token of that same price.
For that reason I don’t believe missionary work has ever been easy, nor that conversion is, nor that retention is, nor that continued faithfulness is. I believe it is supposed to require some effort, something from the depths of our soul.
If He could come forward in the night, kneel down, fall on His face, bleed from every pore, and cry, “Abba, Father (Papa), if this cup can pass, let it pass,” 16 then little wonder that salvation is not a whimsical or easy thing for us. If you wonder if there isn’t an easier way, you should remember you are not the first one to ask that. Someone a lot greater and a lot grander asked a long time ago if there wasn’t an easier way.
The Atonement will carry the missionaries perhaps even more importantly than it will carry the investigators. When you struggle, when you are rejected, when you are spit upon and cast out and made a hiss and a byword, you are standing with the best life this world has ever known, the only pure and perfect life ever lived. You have reason to stand tall and be grateful that the Living Son of the Living God knows all about your sorrows and afflictions. The only way to salvation is through Gethsemane and on to Calvary. The only way to eternity is through Him—the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” (Elder Jeffery R. Holland, Missionary Work and The Atonement)
I pray that we will not give up as we help others come unto Christ. Never give up hope! People will accept the gospel according to their own and the Lord’s timing. May we never stop sharing the gospel and continue to “feed [God’s] sheep.”