The Lion and Lamb

 “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned - every one - to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”  Isaiah 53:6 (ESV)

“Mommy, is it sick?” my youngest asked.  “Maybe not," I said in a hopeful tone.  

A sound not quite a cough but not quite a roar echoed from the big cat enclosure.  He was huge and beautiful and seemed healthy enough to me but there was a distinct weakness in that labored sound.  “Poor lion,” I thought.  “I don’t think he could hurt a lamb in the state he’s in.”




They say March comes in like a lion but leaves like a lamb.  But it’s my absolute most favorite month.  One filled with celebrations.

On March 17, 1972, St. Patrick’s Day, I was born.  

The youngest of five children, I’m sure my parents were grateful about not having to think too hard about coming up with another name.  Patricia worked out just fine.  Patty is the name I’ve gone by, well, forever but recently I’ve noticed my parents have started to call me Pat. I don’t particularly like being called Pat but since they are my parents I guess they can call me what they darn well please. 

In March of 1978, at the age of six years old, I was reborn.

I wish I could tell you all about that experience but, honestly, the only reason I know the date is because of church records uncovered recently.  As a matter of fact, I’ve been telling people for years that I got saved at the age of thirteen because I couldn’t remember and it sounded reasonable.  Was I really saved at six years old, you might ask.  Yes, I believe so and with all my heart. Because all salvation needs is a child-like faith the size of a mustard seed.  Tweet this!

On March 31, 2013, Easter Sunday night, I was rebaptized as an outward expression of my recommittment to Christ.

Not long after graduating high school, I washed my hands of stifling church sermons and narrow minded, hypocritical church people and set off to do my own thing.  Free at last! 

Twenty years later, worn and torn from being chained to addictions and paying the consequences for what I thought was freedom, God welcomed me back into the fold.  His little lost sheep had come back home.

“Where’s the lion, mommy?” my youngest asked on our next trip to the zoo. 

Hyenas were now lounging about in the enclosure where the big cat used to be.  “I don’t know, honey.  Maybe they’ve moved him somewhere else.”  And my heart hoped that was the truth.  I envisioned him in a bigger place than this one, surrounded by his pride, as his deafening roar echoed across the beautiful savannah.

And I am reminded of how Jesus came to earth, still fully God but in the form of man.  Tweet this!  Like the Lion and the Lamb, all rolled into one perfect, unblemished sacrifice offered up on a cross to give us freedom from our sins.  To provide a way for us to be reunited, once again, with a holy God for all eternity. 

And I envision us in a better place than this one, surrounded by His glory, as the music of angels echo across the unfathomable heavens.

“The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him, and said, ‘Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.’”  John 1:29 (ESV)

“And one of the elders said to me, ‘Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.’”  Revelation 5:5 (ESV)

“Know that the Lord, he is God!  It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.”  Psalm 100:3 (ESV)