Jonathan and David Count Sheep
Jonathan wonders about God, and David wonders about nothing at all...
Jonathan and David were counting sheep. This was because David couldn’t get out of the habit, and because Jonathan liked David enough that even sheep counting seemed like a fantastic way to spend an afternoon.
“Why do you always count the black sheep first?” David asked. “Is it because there’s less of them?”
“I dunno,” said Jonathan. “Maybe because they need more looking after than the rest.”
David considered this. Then he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, screwed his eyes together, and resumed counting.
“Forty seven!” he said triumphantly. He turned to Jonathan and asked, “Would you like to hear a poem?”
“Wha— yes,” said Jonathan. “Yes, a poem, yes of course.”
David's eyes fluttered, as if to read off the words from the back of his eyelids. “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, including forty-seven sheep and three black ones.” There was another pause.
“Well, it is a very good start,” said Jonathan, encouragingly, and still thinking about the eyelids.
“Yes,” said David. “It is.” More silence.
Then it was Jonathan’s turn to speak. “David?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“Do you ever wonder what God is like?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, whether God is up there counting people?”
“Why would God count people?”
“I dunno. Maybe to make sure they don’t get lost.”
“What, like fall down a hole?”
“Not that kind of lost,” said Jonathan, shifting uncomfortably. “Just sort of, wandering away from the rest of the flock.”
“I think that God has a big spear. And shoes as big as houses. That’s how he gets from one end of creation to the other.”
“With houses on his feet?”
“No—with really big steps,” said David, nodding.
“Wouldn’t people see him coming?”
“I don’t think they do,” said David. “Or else someone would have said something by now.”
More silence. Jonathan watched as uncertainty crept across David’s face. Finally, David said, “Maybe he sneaks up behind them and hits them with the spear so hard they don’t remember it.”
“Why would God do that?”
“Well, so they couldn’t tell anyone what he looks like.” David said, nodding with relief. His thoughts had found their way back to him once more.
They sat together for a moment, considering this new revelation. Then Jonathan said, “Don’t you ever think of God as a shepherd?”
“What would all the other shepherds be for, then?”
“I mean like a shepherd of people. The Lord is your shepherd, for example.”
“The Lord is my shepherd,” said David, trying it out. “No— I’m not sure that works.”
“It was just a thought,” said Jonathan.
“Yes,” said David. “Something to think about, when we’re not counting.”
“Maybe you could put it into one of your poems.”
“Maybe,” said David, screwing up his eyes to stare out into the field. “Okay, let’s go again. And start with the normal sheep this time…”