Occasionally you will read a news story about a deer or some other wild animal that gets turned around in a suburban area and goes really wild trying to find its way out. As I drove through the residential area near my home recently, I witnessed just such a situation. A wild turkey crossed the road and was running around frantically in the front yards. The bird was obviously in a panic about which way to go. Those small yards weren’t providing the open field option it was looking for!
It occurs to me that the “herd instinct” isn’t necessarily a bad one. That turkey would have been well-advised to stay with his fellow gobblers! Animals that lose their way are generally alone. In reality, they may not be all that far away from the domain of the herd or flock, yet in just a couple of wandering jaunts they have become caught within a maze of suburban streets. Though the woods and open fields lying adjacent to town are quite close, the lone animal has bowed to the blindness of a limited perspective and soon begins to succumb to a strong feeling of entrapment. Soon the animal is on a path to panic and possible destruction.
I find this instructive for me spiritually. You see, in some ways, it’s not important whether or not the herd needs me—I need the herd! When the grazing is good, I may find it rather satisfying to go my own way with the false assurance that the same old pasture and herd will always be readily available to me if and when I want to run with them. Like the prodigal son in Jesus’ famous parable, I fail to realize that my jaunts into territories distant from my spiritual home alienate me from the helpful perceptions provided by my spiritual family. My dependence on a single perspective, my own, eventually takes me from adventure into tragedy. My seemingly innocent blindness eventually produces several foolish turns. I begin to realize that no matter which direction I look, I can see no way out. I lose hope. Suddenly, isolation begins to feel very different, and not satisfying at all. I am vulnerable, and I know it. I have little confidence in my own power to resolve my situation. The panic is awful, and I desperately wish for home.
The good news of the Gospel is that no matter how lost we become our home is indeed very close. Do you remember your spiritual home? Can you see your way there? The Savior will enter your maze and lead you back home to your loving Father and family. Everything the Father has and all of his joy awaits you there.
That sort of makes it foolish to leave, doesn’t it?