Out in the Desert They Wander

At the peril of disappointing some who may read this, I am writing about refugees once again. I should be working on my Sunday School lesson for this week for the teenagers I teach. The topic is not about refugees. The lesson title is,"How can I stand as a witness of God?" I've read the materials, and it is a good lesson, but right now I am still distracted by this issue. So I will write, and try to set some of my thoughts and ache here for a while, hopefully then be able to read and focus on other things for a while. 

Last night I woke in the middle of the night and wanted some distraction to help me sleep again. Lately I've been listening to music to try to trick my mind into letting me sleep. Podcasts or talks have run the risk of engaging my mind too much, making me want to stay awake. News can sometimes be good background noise, but not lately. So music it is. I decided on the Mormon Tabernacle Choir streaming option, since I figured it would be something peaceful, and I wouldn't have to think much about selecting albums or songs. (This choice has backfired on me before, though, when I'm being lulled off to sleep and suddenly and arrangement with bagpipes comes on. Then, whoa! I'm awake!)

This time the hymn that was playing when I turned it on was "Dear to the Heart of the Shepherd." Just when I was wanting to clear my mind and float peacefully off to sleep, I hear the chorus: "Out in the desert they wander,/ hungry and helpless and cold." Where else could my mind go?

Often we think of this song in metaphoric terms, those who are spiritually lost and wandering. I in no way mean to detract from that beautiful message. I mean, I studied and taught writing for years. I'm such a fan of metaphor. We should all use it so beautifully.

But consider what meaning our own religious heritage adds to the metaphor. Clearly the author of the hymn was drawing on scripture as she penned the words about the Good Shepherd seeking for beloved lost sheep. For many of us, though, it also conjures images like this:

Hungry, helpless, and cold. Perhaps those who first included this in our hymnbook thought of such desert landscapes, finding the hymn rather apt for LDS congregations. They might have recalled the story of people stranded, starving, freezing, when President Brigham Young received a message that they were out there. Perhaps their selection of this hymn was inspired by his impromptu conference message that morning. He didn't preach a lesson about preparedness, or an evaluation of the socioeconomic factors of bringing so many destitute people into the valley. In Brigham Young fashion, he was somehow blunt, yet pointed:

Many of our brethren and sisters are on the plains with handcarts, and probably many are now  seven hundred miles from this place, and they must be brought here, we must send assistance to  them. . . .

I shall call upon the Bishops this day. I shall not wait until tomorrow, not until the next day [then  he included a very specific list of supplies that he expects the people to gather and organize right  away] . . . 

I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you  in the Celestial Kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains. And attend strictly those things which we call temporal duties. Otherwise, your faith will be in vain. The preaching you have heard will be in vain to you, and you will sink to Hell, unless you attend to the things we tell you.

This history has so affected people of our faith that we still draw upon these stories in our lessons, sermons, and artwork. Often our youth reenact the scenarios, trekking across plains pulling handcarts, trying to get at least some sense of what it must have been like for those early pioneers.

Today, there are people also reenacting familiar scenes, but not as part of a carefully orchestrated trek during summer vacation. They aren't on well-groomed trails, they don't have leaders who have planned every detail to make sure everyone will be safe, properly hydrated, and (let's be honest) comfortable enough with the proper gear and shelter. They are they embodiment of hungry, and helpless, and cold.

The location of the desert has changed, but the pictures are not much different. Do we assume these children are less dear to their parents than those of the pioneers? Less dear to the Lord? "Dear are the sheep of his fold," yes, but also "dear are his 'other' lost sheep. Over the mountains he follows, over the waters so deep."

The last verses are especially poignant right now. Halfway through the third verse, the Shepherd turns to us, those already safe in the fold and asks for our help. "Hark! He is earnestly calling,/ Tenderly pleading today: / "Will you not seek for my lost ones,/ Off from my shelter astray?"

After another chorus that repeats the words about them wandering so helplessly, the fourth verse begins with a description of the beauty and serenity of the secure pastures. Then those whom the Shepherd had been addressing (presumably us, if we're singing) answer, "Yes, blessed Master, we will!/ Make us thy true under-shepherds; / Give us a love that is deep. Send us out into the desert,/ Seeking thy wandering sheep." 

I think of the time I spent at IKEA last weekend, getting a great deal on new sheets and some pillows I needed. I'm going shopping again this afternoon because my daughter's winter coat is getting too small. As I write this, there is a pile of blankets and throw pillows on the living room floor that my kids used to make forts and piled up, just to jump on. And the whir of the heater just clicked off. I need to wrap up because my children are getting antsy for lunch, which I will be able to provide for them. I ache because there are so many parents right now, hungry and helpless and cold. They are desperate to even keep their children safe, let alone warm and fed. We have to hasten our rescue. We need to bring them in.

This little boy from Syria does have boots to wear in the snow, but he is wearing sandals because he gave the boots to his little sister to wear. I don't know if that makes them seem more or less like us.

Dear to the Heart of the Shepherd, by Mary B Wingate

1. Dear to the heart of the Shepherd,

Dear are the sheep of his fold;

Dear is the love that he gives them,

Dearer than silver or gold.

Dear to the heart of the Shepherd,

Dear are his “other” lost sheep;

Over the mountains he follows,

Over the waters so deep.

(Chorus)
Out in the desert they wander,
Hungry and helpless and cold;
Off to the rescue he hastens,
Bringing them back to the fold. (4th verse only: we’ll hasten,)

2. Dear to the heart of the Shepherd,
Dear are the lambs of his fold;
Some from the pastures are straying,
Hungry and helpless and cold.
See, the Good Shepherd is seeking,
Seeking the lambs that are lost,
Bringing them in with rejoicing,
Saved at such infinite cost.

3. Dear to the heart of the Shepherd,
Dear are the “ninety and nine”;
Dear are the sheep that have wandered
Out in the desert to pine.
Hark! he is earnestly calling,
Tenderly pleading today:
“Will you not seek for my lost ones,
Off from my shelter astray?”

4. Green are the pastures inviting;
Sweet are the waters and still.
Lord, we will answer thee gladly,
“Yes, blessed Master, we will!
Make us thy true under-shepherds;
Give us a love that is deep.
Send us out into the desert,
Seeking thy wandering sheep.”