Being a sheep

So whenever I head south on highway 75 to points like Le Mars or Sioux City or beyond, I go past this farm.
A sheep farm to be exact.
And every time I drive past the place I'm reminded of one time when I saw something funny there.
It was a sheep.
Walking around.
With a bucket on its head.
Like nothing.
Was.
Wrong.
I remember thinking, you stupid sheep, have someone take that bucket off your head and you'll feel so much better. You'll SEE so much better. You'll be able to eat, too.
...
...
...
And then I remembered. Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
For me.
Because I am a sheep.
And more often than not, I walk around with a figurative bucket on my head.
Like
nothing
is
wrong.
And I wonder how often Jesus shakes His head at me and thinks, "Silly sheep, let me get that off for you. You'll feel so much better. You'll SEE so much better. And you'll be able to eat."

It's been a long time since I first saw that sheep wandering around its pen with a bucket on its head like that. But the sight of that farm yard--whether there are sheep in it or not--reminds me to keep my head out of the bucket, or when I do get it in one, to let Jesus remove it so I can live.