The first time my heart was broken, I was about nine or ten years old. We were moving from Chicago to a farm in Tennessee. In the confusion, my parents said that my Spitz, Tippy, had run away and couldn’t be found. I knew that my father had given my dog away. He probably thought that a white long haired dog would be too much trouble with the cockle burrs and such. It probably never dawned on them that he could keep Tippy cut short, or what affect losing my dog would have on me. For weeks I looked at a picture of Him and cried. My mother finally said that she was going to take the picture away if I didn’t stop crying. And so, I learned to hide my grief and cry on the inside.

I was about sixteen years old when I felt the pain of losing a pet again. We had raised a little lamb as our pet. It was the only lamb that we had and it stayed in our yard rather than out in the fields. My brother and I played with the lamb and it followed us around just like a dog. One day my teacher in the Agriculture class at the High School decided to take the class to a sales or auction barn to see that part of farm life first hand. The sales floor was shaped like a small arena with each row of seats around the sales floor a little higher than the row in front of it. We came up the stairs toward the top or back of the seats and took our seats toward the left side. As I looked around, I saw my father and my uncle sitting on the right side and a little down toward the sales floor. I wondered why they were there. It wasn’t long before I knew. Suddenly our little lamb, which was nearly grown now, was pushed out onto the floor and the bidding began. Part of me wanted to save my lamb, and another part of me knew that I couldn’t do anything about it. And so I sat there, appearing strong on the outside, but crying on the inside.

I wondered what my lamb was feeling there among strangers. The people who she thought had loved her were no where to be seen. She was alone and afraid. She had been abandoned and didn’t know why. I still remember her standing there so all alone, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

Perhaps God allowed me to experience that in order for me to understand what His Son, the Lamb of God, went through. Isaiah 53:7 He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.” Jesus faced his enemies and his death completely alone. His friends had abandoned him, fearing that they would be next. Those that he had healed were nowhere to be seen. He was completely alone. On the cross, just as he died, he cried out, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me? Psalms 22” My lamb felt that way as she stood alone on the sales floor, and now I know that Jesus felt the same way as he gave his life for the forgiveness of my sins. Yes, now I know. And it hurts.

But I have not abandoned Him. I have accepted him as my messiah, and I write to help others to know him as I know him. There are many who know nothing of his sacrifice. They don’t know that he willingly gave up his life, so that they could have forgiveness and everlasting life. Because of his divine nature, Jesus will feel abandoned as long a one person does not know of him and his invitation to mankind. So come to Jesus, and tell others about him. The Lamb of God needs our love, as much as we need his. Don’t let him stand alone and abandoned any longer.

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