Back at the Ranch

I've redeemed myself. I paid this time. That's right, I went to another concert in NYC and --despite my knowing people -- paid full price for a ticket. No it wasn't U2, nor was it Madison Square Garden, yet it was still amazing. Friends, I was again on the floor next to the stage in my new favorite venue in the whole world: The Nokia Theater in Times Square. a 2100 capacity theater with an open floor, limited seating, without a bad view in the house. It was a unique and intimate setting, and I was loving every minute of it.

Who was it? The Man. The Myth. The Legend. Mr. Brad Paisley himself. Not only is it meaningful because he is my favorite artist of all time, but because let's be honest, country music is pretty hard to come by in NY. There are no radio stations on the island, in fact the closest thing we have is a station across the Sound in Connecticut which comes in most of the time. So Brad, in his wisdom, brought Sara Evans with him, as well as Sugarland (whose lead singer may have vaulted herself into my new celebrity crush because of her incredibly adorable accent, my apologies to my ex: Jennifer Garner, but Ben Aflek, come on). Regardless, whether you want to know or not, this is what Brad looks like up close, and no, Bryan Brokaw, he has no desire to be your friend, sorry.

On a side note, it has been a rough go the last couple of months as far as animals go here at the Ranch. "Sometimes it seems like grave digging is the only thing we do around here." (What famous movie?) That may be an overstatement, so I will just say that we've had to bury a couple things: 8 turkeys, several ducklings, some ferrel cats, 3 chickens, 2 puppies, and a partridge in a pear tree, ok maybe not the bird, but most recently my favorite goat.

I don't know what you might know or think of goats, personally they're not my favorite, but they are very interesting animals. I haven't spent much time with sheep, but I've been in charge of these goats for a year now, and may I say they're as tough as nails. They can and will literally eat everything (including plastic bags, which doesn't always turn out for the best). The people I know who care for sheep are always talking about how fragile they are, how much attention they require. There's always something that needs to be taken care of with sheep, but goats, just feed 'em in the morning and occasionally check their water and they'll be fine. They're very self-sufficient and independent, and in the same way mean. Goats are mean like junior high girls; relentless, never ending. Every morning when I toss them their feed they are ramming each other out of the way; Darwinism at it's finest.

Even my favorite goat, who sounded like he was saying "Matt" every time he bleated, was caught up in the rat race that is this life. Every morning there he was, wrestling pointlessly with the rest of them, pounding each other out of the feed trough and then ramming their way back in. All the while I would quietly hold a second scoop of feed, the good stuff, behind my back, just waiting for one of them to come and get it from me. It never happened.

The more I think about it, the more Jesus' comparison to us as sheep makes sense. Sure it's not flattering to be compared to just about the stupidest animal in the world, who can, at times, barely fend for itself. But I would rather be the stupid sheep who has it's every need met, than the independent goat whose every thought is bent towards self-preservation. I would rather look like a fool in the world's eyes, relying on the Good Shepherd, than to spend the rest of my days butting heads with others around me only to be a frozen, trampled obstacle impeding other's "progress".

Make no mistake, God will separate the goats from the sheep. And in the end, whether you're a goat that's been trampled along the way, or one that has pounded your way to the top of the food chain, your fate won't differ. During the life-long struggle to meet your immediate needs, you missed the opportunity to find the one who could give you even more, more than you ever hoped or imagined. Sure, you would have been one of those stupid sheep, sitting on the side of the pen of life, looking helpless and lost, wondering when the shepherd would come, but what does that matter now?

Whether your bumping professional heads with people, attempting to achieve great heights, pounding your financial horns against the worries of life, or ramming head first into an emotional wall -- stop. Stop worrying what others will think, stop living for immediate gratification, stop ramming everyone else in your path. Stop looking out for yourself and start looking up, looking stupid, looking helpless and hopeful.

I don't know about you, but I don't want to look like a sheep; it's not that flattering. In fact, I can pretty much count on the world looking down on me. Yet, despite my desire to goat my way through life, ramming everyone in my path, I will continue to look up -- no matter how helpless, pitiful or naive it may seem. Because the Good Shepherd is waiting for me, with a hand tucked behind his back holding the keys, the good stuff.