Young Preachers and Stubborn Old Goats

It was a beautiful afternoon.  I preached that morning in Deerfield, Missouri.  It is a little white church right next to the railroad tracks. 

We were on our way back to Joplin, Missouri, where I was a student at Ozark Christian College.  Our kids were all comfortable in the backseat of our 1965 Dodge Polara.  The windows were open and the drive was slow and scenic. 

“Did you see that?” I asked my wife.  She hadn't.  I stopped the car and backed up. 

“Look, kids,” I said.  They crowded to the passenger side window. 

There was a big Billy Goat.  His head was through the woven wire fence.  The wire sections were about eight inches square, and because his horns were so big, he couldn't pull them back through the fence. 

“Somebody better help him get out of there,” I said.

The kids watched from the car as I shoved that goat's head this way and that.  No matter how I turned him, I couldn't get his horns back through the fence.  The goat didn't cooperate like he should have, either.  After about ten minutes of twisting and turning, shoving and pulling, I finally got his head back through the fence. 

I felt like a hero as I returned to the car.  My children had witnessed their father's good deed.  I had single handedly saved the life of a goat. 

Back in the car, I was just about to start the engine.  Chris, about eight years old at the time, shouted, “Look!  Daddy, Look!” 

We all looked.  The Billy Goat had stuck his head back through the woven wire fence and was calmly eating grass again.

It dawned on me that I had rescued a goat that did not want to be rescued!  What I saw as a problem was no problem, at all.  He had figured out a way to put his head in and pull it out of the wire without difficulty.  That old goat believed that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. 

In retrospect, I must admit that I have attempted rescues, throughout my life, with people that probably didn't want to be rescued.  Like the proverbial Boy Scout, I have helped plenty of little old ladies cross the street, even when they didn't want to go!  

So many times, I have attempted to help people who didn't want to be rescued.  Someone is addicted.  Someone is in a marriage that is falling apart.  Someone is struggling with depression.  To me, it looks like they have their head stuck through the fence and can't pull back.  I think, “They need my help.”

So, like you, I do what I can to help.  I try.  The pushing and pulling, twisting and shoving is a lot of work.  We do all that we can do, only to see those who have been helped return to, what they believe is, the greener grass on the other side of the fence.  In reality, you can't help those who don't want to be helped.  You cannot rescue those who don't want to be rescued. 

I put the Dodge in drive and pulled back onto that Missouri blue line highway. 

“Daddy, aren't you going to help the goat again?” Chris said.  He sounded a little sarcastic for an eight-year-old.

“Son,” I said.  “I have just discovered that there are some old goats that only God can help.” 

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and I learned a valuable lesson.  Only God can help those who refuse the help of men. 

“Lord, Give us help from trouble: for vain is the help of man” (Psalm 60.11, KJV)