Article November 21, 1914 Issue

Feeding the Lambs

E. HOWARD GILKEY

After the meeting between Jesus and his disciples on the shore of the Galilean sea, of which Mrs. Eddy speaks as the "spiritual meeting with our Lord in the dawn of a new light," and after the disciples had eaten of that "morning meal which Christian Scientists commemorate" (Science and Health, p. 35), there was a period of individual instruction by the Master, during which he asked of Peter, "Lovest thou me?" Receiving a positive and assured affirmation from the impulsive follower, Jesus responded with grave significance, "Feed my lambs." A second and a third time Jesus asked Peter as to the sincerity of his loyalty to his teaching, and to each affirmative reply he responded, as if to drive the lesson home, "Feed my sheep." In the first command, to feed the lambs, we are shown the Master's tender regard for that which is meek and gentle and tractable, and it causes us to meditate upon the question, Why give particular attention to the lambs? If the elders of the flock are properly trained, will not the younger members follow? The Master's wisdom, superior to that of all humanity, led him to command that attention first and last be given to the pure mental reflection of the Most High, to safeguard it from the false beliefs that mortals and materialism would crowd upon its advancing consciousness.

During the unprecedented and unseasonable snow-storm which swept across the central United States about two years ago, a Christian Scientist was given a lesson in the preparedness of Love's unfailing works, which brought vividly to his mind the significance of the Master's admonition to Peter, and gave a new insight into the breadth and depth of the divine command. The drifting snow that whirled before the accompanying gale until the whole country was covered with a snowy blanket, marooned in a strip of woodland upon an Ohio farm, a farmer's live-stock, including quite a flock of sheep.

The woodland was at some distance from the farm buildings, and during the height of the storm no attention was paid to the cattle, nor did they make any attempt to return to their accustomed quarters. The following morning, however, two boys started from the farm-house, digging through drifts four and five feet high in places, to reach the woods and drive the live-stock home. Rugged, hearty, fearless, the boys made their way across the fields, breaking a passageway to the objects of their solicitude, and after a season of courageous effort, arrived at their destination. After a brief resting spell the lads started the horses and cattle homeward, everything going merrily until it came time to start the sheep, and then an unexpected halt occurred. The sheep would not follow the cattle, nor would they follow the boys down the path, and they would not permit themselves to be driven!

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