Two sheep are walking on the grasslands. Suddenly both fall into a hole. They can't get out. The first sheep starts to shout: "Help!! Help!!" It does not work. No help is coming. The first sheep shouts again: "Help!! Help!!" The second sheep says: "It might help if we shout together." The first sheep shouts: "Together!! Together!!"

I share this joke because, as we learned from our children's sermon earlier this morning, no child here chose the animal they wished they could be is a sheep. We shared a couple of reasons why this could be. One of them, if you remember, is that sheep are not known in the animal kingdom for their intelligence.

Those with a farming background can speak to the validity of this, but I want to speak about a different kind of intelligence, a different way of understanding, a different way of relating, and a different way of perhaps experiencing God.

Allow me to share a special story this morning; it's one I found in a forwarded email. The name of this story is 'God lives under the Bed' and starts this way.

I envy Kevin. He thinks God lives under his bed. One night he was praying out loud in his bedroom, and I stopped to listen, "Are you there, God?" he said. "Where are you? Oh, under the bed..."

I laughed and tiptoed to my room. My brother Kevin's unique perspectives are often a source of amusement. But that night something lingered long after the humor. I realized for the first time the very different world in which Kevin lives. He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled due to problem in labor. Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2) there are few ways in which he's an adult. He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7-year-old, and always will. He'll probably always believe God lives under his bed, Santa Claus fills the space under the Christmas tree and that airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them.

I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different. Is he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life? Up before dawn each day, off to the workshop for the disabled, home to walk the dog and eat his favorite macaroni/cheese dinner, and later to bed. The only variation in the routine is laundry, when he hovers excitedly over the washer like a mother with her newborn child.

He does not seem dissatisfied. For instance, there's the bliss of Saturdays! That day my Dad takes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of the passengers. His anticipation for the airport outing is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights.

And so goes his world of daily rituals. He doesn't know what it means to be discontent. He will never know the entanglements of wealth of power. He doesn't care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats. His needs have always been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be.

Kevin is never as happy as when he's working. When he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, for example, his heart is completely in it. He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Kevin also knows how to relax. He's not obsessed with his work or the work of others. His heart is pure. He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue. Free from pride, unconcerned with appearances, Kevin's not afraid to cry when he's hurt, angry or sorry. He's always transparent, always sincere. He trusts God. Not confined, when he comes to Christ he comes as a child. Kevin seems to know God—to really be friends with Him in a way that is difficult for an "educated" person to grasp.

God seems like his closest companion. In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity, I envy the security Kevin has in his simple faith. It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions. It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap, I am. My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances—they all become disabilities...when I do not trust them to God's care. Consider this. Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he's spent his whole life in a true—or a different—kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking up the goodness and love of God. And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed. And Kevin won't be surprised at all!

The story ends there but our thinking begins in that I want to highlight one of the last, most significant points in this true story. It's where our author shares that God seems like Kevin's closest companion.

You've caught the pun with our sermon title this morning, are ewe the one? The ewe, or course, refers to a sheep.

Our lesson in scripture draws us to have God as our closest companion because through Jesus, God's only begotten son, we have a shepherd. Through Jesus, we have one to watch over us. While a sheep is not an animal many choose to emulate because of certain characteristics—one being what do you call a sheep that has no legs—a cloud—there is still something to learn when this psalm and this gospel lesson align, and, as we consider to learn from Kevin, here's the question, are you the one?

Are you the one who finds work so delightful? Are you the one who relaxes enough in the day to reflect God's goodness, love and mercy? Are you the one with sure pure delight in airplanes?  As they streak across the sky, are you envious that you're stuck on the ground, traveling no where exciting except to the garage on an errand to fill the bag of recyclables? Do you even look at the sky anymore? If so, what do you see?

Those who know me well know I preach of intelligence linked with faith. Do not have blind faith, I say; have bold faith, faith that is considered, measured, analyzed, scrutinized, questioned, examined, pondered, dissected. Meet scripture not with stupidity but with savvy. 

I'm not going to dismiss that track of thinking—not ever—but, oddly enough, as I crafted these very words into a paragraph earlier this past week, I looked out the window. There, in plain sight, the Bradford pear tree that my dad had planted many years ago waved at me through the breeze.

Now of course, as we know, the Bradford pear, with its seemingly endless bouquet of white budding flowers, is absolutely magnificent at this time of the year. But in intellectualizing and compartmentalizing, do we really see God's bounty?

To be clear, I'll never, ever say check your brains at the door of any church you enter. Keep intellectualizing your Christian life for there is a gain. Equally, with these scriptures and this email story as guide, consider the myriad of ways our vast God reaches—and teaches—us.

Again, forgive the cheesy pun, but are you the one? Are you the one who, like Kevin, sees what you need to see, and feel what you need to feel when it comes to a relationship with God?

It's been a rat race week for many here today. Those in the confirmation class, for example, now, they're busy. And must be times when, under the gun, they really relied on God in prayer this past week. In learning what they're learning, in developing what they're developing as a more profound relationship with our daily, living Christ, I trust they opened themselves up to the Spirit even through the fast pace of it all.

We here at First Congregational-UCC, we all do that, and quite honestly, if we were to be true about it, we would admit we could open ourselves more to it. We could open ourselves to more experiences, more guidance, and more awakenings in weeks that, by some standards, are mundane. 

So, how do we do it? How do we become the ones that connect to God on more profound levels?  Think of Kevin.

We talked about a trip out to the garage to recycle some can, bottle, or plastic jug; we even talked about looking into the sky. Today, let's summarize this lesson with three points to take home and practice through the week.

First, in becoming the ones, or in further becoming one to experience and relate to God's kingdom on earth, let's get out of our heads a few times this week. Let's stop this over-thinking business. Regardless of your age, take your shoes off and walk across the green growing lawn in your bare feet. Experience it. Name it. Articulate the sensation.

Well, some may be thinking, I'm not doing that foolishness. If that's the case, if that's where you're first coming from, then you're not like a trusting sheep at all; you're more like a stubborn donkey, or, quite frankly, you're more accurately like a stubborn three-letter word that starts with an 'A'.

The point of the scripture and that forwarded email is we need to simplify sometimes. We need to get back to not just experiencing our day to day activities, but to return to naming them as God moments.

So, first, get out of your head this week. Get into experiencing something tangible, something enjoyable like a bubble bath or a moment when you let the sunshine not just touch but actually soak deep down into your face.

Second, in becoming the ones, or in further becoming the one to experience and relate to God's kingdom on earth, reconsider the relationship you have with Jesus as your shepherd. And shepherds, as we know, are not forceful or unkind. They merely guard and guide. In what is a tender relationship, sheep know the sound of their shepherd's voice, and respond to it by following.

Third, and finally, in becoming the ones, or in further becoming the one to experience and relate to God's kingdom here in our beautiful spring countryside, accept. Accept that you're more like a sheep than you think.  Most of us comprising this congregation are modest. We live within our means; we don't seek praise or attention from others. Through hardworking, we don't do our work to seek adoration.

But do we think of ourselves as ones who, in ways much like Kevin, have limits? Do we accept that we truly are children of God?  Do we accept the waving branches of flowering fruit trees as a sign of God waving to us, or do we, with our noses to the ground, miss or dismiss the event we are too busy? Are we too egocentric? Are we too busy in being bitter or busy or bored with yet another day?  Or today, in this holy moment, in this historic church on this day when the scriptures tell us to be like sheep to the shepherd, do we accept that we are the ones? 

To repeat those three points, first, stop this over-thinking business, at least for awhile. Second, reconsider what you must do today and into the week ahead in the relationship you have with Jesus as your shepherd, and finally, accept. Accept that you are a chosen one.