One evening as we arrived home from seminary graduation we noticed a calf standing on the other side of the pond.  It had obviously come from the herd above our house.  It had gotten onto the county road, had come in our front gate, and couldn’t find a way through our tight, woven-wire fence.

An easy way for the calf to get back with its mother would have been for it to go through the little gate that leads from the yard into the pasture.  I knew from experience, however, that if I was to open the gate, I might drive the calf past it a dozen times without it being able to see the opening.  It would have its attention focused on me, its antagonist, and wouldn’t notice the way out that I was trying to show it.

I determined not to worry about the calf, and to leave it to work out its own problem.  It would eventually get hungry enough that it would get desperate to get back with its mother.  She would come down to the fence and talk encouragingly to it.  They’d walk along together on opposite sides of the fence looking for a way for the calf to get through.  Perhaps in their searches the calf would run down the other fence and discover the big, open gate that gave it access to our yard in the first place.  I was just going to leave it alone.

We went in and sat down at the table.  Soon I saw someone in a white shirt run around the end of the garage.  I went out the back door to see who had invaded our property and why.  I found five of our grandchildren in their church clothes making a semicircular, human fence around the little yard gate in the back yard.  The gate was wide open.  In the middle of the circle was the calf.  The kids were trying to show it the open gate, and the way to freedom.  The calf’s attention, however, was all on the people that had it surrounded.  They might as well have been a pack of wolves for all it knew.  It was surrounded, and they looked menacing.  It was frightened.  It was trapped.  It couldn’t see the way out.  All that was necessary was for it to turn its head, see the hole in the fence, and walk through.  Instead, it bleated a frightened bawl, and plunged through the line of humans to go run around the pond again.

My grandchildren had seen the calf in our yard as they returned home from the graduation.  They had stopped to help their grandfather and the calf.  The calf, however, didn’t want to be helped.  I told the kids to just go home and forget about it.

How like the calf are many people.  They’re desperate to find a way out of their troubles, but can’t see the open gate.  Christ is “the way, the truth, and the life.”  (John 14:6).  All one needs to do is to turn to Him, repent, and exercise faith.  He is the solution.  The gate is never closed.  Anytime anyone wants to, he can walk through.