In 2021, a group kayaking off the coast of Scotland noticed a lone sheep at the bottom of a steep slope on an isolated, rocky beach. The creature followed them along the shoreline, plaintively bleating as they glided past. The paddlers didn’t think much of it, assuming the sheep would find its way back home. However, two years later, when one of the kayakers went past the beach again, she was shocked to see the same sheep. Realizing that the animal had been trapped, living alone in a cave for at least two years, lost from its flock and abandoned, the kayaker knew she had to do something.

After she publicized the sheep’s plight, efforts were made to organize a rescue. However, given the challenging location and weight of the poor animal (worsened by its overgrown fleece), saving it would not be easy. Eventually, a group of five farmers succeeded. Using ropes to lower themselves down the cliff, they managed to get “Fiona” into a large feed bag, which they slowly hoisted up the steep walls that had held her captive for so long.

Fiona’s story resonated around the world, maybe because her predicament is a reminder of the universal plight of humanity. We are like sheep at the bottom of a cliff, spiritually speaking, separated from our Shepherd and helpless to save ourselves. We can sense this disconnection in the subtle whispers and loud shouts of discontentment and anxiety that plague our lives. Or, we notice it in the bittersweet wonder that awakens within us at the sight of intense beauty, like waves crashing or flowers blooming. Ironically, we even feel it when we experience human love because no matter how profound that love is, it is never enough.

On a soul level, whether in our highest or lowest moments, we know from our earliest memories that something critical is missing. And God shows us in all kinds of ways that He is that vital ingredient.

The first time I remember sensing God, I was five years old. My parents read a bedtime prayer from a children’s book to me. When they said, “I pray to God my soul to keep,” my ears pricked up. Who was this God? And why did His name awaken something in me?

The following year, when I was six, a girl on my school bus pointed through the dirty window at a tiny church not far from my house. She invited me to Sunday School there; I went. The teacher gave us a baby food jar full of milk and told us to shake it until it turned into butter. She told us that God makes all things but then makes all things new. This lesson stirred something in my soul.

Then, when I was eight, a church that I had seen hundreds of times on the way to the local market suddenly shone in a new light for me. I felt compelled to go. My parents agreed to drop me off for Sunday School and church each week. In our little class, the teacher gave all the second graders a Bible, which proved to be a critical tool in my search for the missing ingredient. Its words and the melodies and lyrics of the worship songs we sang in church resonated profoundly in my spirit: they felt like truth. But I wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Finally, when I was twelve, spiritual longing fluttered again unexpectedly. I was helping an elderly neighbor clean her home over the summer. After I asked her about the religious books on the shelves, she encouraged me to borrow any I wanted, so I chose a memoir by Miss America 1980. However, it was promptly buried under a stack of Nancy Drew and Katherine Paterson books on my nightstand. There it remained until later that summer when I was bedridden for two weeks with a serious illness. I ran through the whole stack of books until the only one left to read was the one from my neighbor.

As I opened it to the first page, I never expected that Blackwell’s story would finally show me precisely what I had been longing for and what to do about it. She had a relationship with God through faith. A lightbulb went off – here was how I could respond to Him. He had been near my whole life, but I had never believed in Him. I had approached the door but had never entered. A friend at school told me the name of the door was Jesus. I walked through the door.

Like Fiona the sheep, we all know we are made for more. Whether she remembered being with her shepherd and flock or sensed a more abundant life through the beauty around her, she knew there was something better than living alone in an isolated cave. She showed it by crying for rescue whenever other creatures ventured past, just like our souls cry every time we discern God calling us.

Even if we don’t admit that we are lost and isolated from the God who created us and has the power to save us—He knows. And He staged our deliverance before we even knew we needed it. In sending Christ to die for us, He made a way for us to return to Him. He has done (and still does) all the work. He came down and showed us the narrow path to salvation, the path He made. In fact, He is the path. He leads the way, going before us. And finally, He lifts us to be with Him.

Sadly, like Fiona, who was unaware that people were trying to rescue her, we don’t always recognize that God is trying to save us. But careful reflection reveals His footprints all over our memories. God always finds us where we are but doesn’t shove His sheep into feed bags to drag us up a mountain. Instead, He gently draws us to Himself, nudging and wooing us to come to Him, to the rich and abundant life He offers.

It is a mystery to me how the melody of His love plays for every soul – I only know that it plays. Sometimes, we spurn God’s gift of grace in our willfulness, pride, and self-reliance. But if we see it for what it is – see Him for who He is – we will be given new life. When we follow Him, the deepest longings of our souls are satisfied.

Since that life-changing day when God rescued me, I have had to walk through many storms and dark valleys. Had my soul not been in God’s care, I would have been crushed by the weight of it all. Instead, He has never failed to refresh my soul or lead me beside still waters; His goodness and mercy have followed me all my life. He is the Good Shepherd who lays down His life for the sheep. He’s so good that I will follow Him anywhere.

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Photo credit: Annie Spratt on Unsplash