Doubt

Heryshaf had always doubted.

He had doubted the flock. He had doubted the Good Shepherd. He had doubted the things he had been told simply because every other sheep seemed willing to believe them.

But there was one sheep he had rarely thought to doubt.

Heryshaf.

Until now.

It was a peculiar thing to discover that the sheep asking all the questions might himself be part of the problem.

As Heryshaf wandered and wondered, he became more and more depressed.

Tears ran from his eyes and he felt a horrible emptiness in his right stomach.

It comforted him to reflect that back home the rest of the flock would be grazing together, never to discover their individuality.

At least I'm not like them.

The thought calmed him.

It made him feel better.

Then another thought appeared.

It's not really that bad.

And another.

It will all be OK.

You are doing the right thing.

You are a good sheep.

You've made the right choice.

For a moment Heryshaf felt better.

Then he noticed something.

The comforting thoughts had arrived by themselves, precisely when he had begun to feel bad.

He had not asked for them.

Were they true?

Or had some part of him produced them simply because the truth had become uncomfortable?

Heryshaf didn't know.

And that made him feel worse.

His thoughts continued to race.

Maybe it would have been better had he never questioned anything.

Truly life did seem much more unreal now than it ever had been before.

The world seemed full of different paths to fulfilment. The more choices Heryshaf imagined, the less certain he became.

After all, with so many different avenues available, just how should one figure out which the best path is?

Maybe following the path taught to him in his youth was best.

That way, life would have been simple.

And anyway, had following the path of the Good Shepherd really been that bad?

Was doing what you were told to do, thinking what you were told to think, such a problem?

What was wrong with blind faith anyway?

He missed the flock.

Missed it like the universe if it had vanished.

At times he desperately wanted to go home, to rest his head on his mother's side.

Yet something deep inside him urged him to continue.

He couldn't quit now.

Even if he wanted to go home, he didn't know where home was any more.

Heryshaf had a mission and the mission itself felt like home.

He was suddenly reminded of his Father's fourth secret:

Know where you are going.

It is not enough simply to ask whether something is right or wrong. Ask where it leads, and what it serves.

Always consider your AIM in all that you do.

Heryshaf breathed deeply and remembered. He was suddenly by his Uncle's side. He looked fondly into the old man's fading grey eyes. He felt like he was watching the scene unfold from a distance. As if he were simultaneously inside and outside of his own body. A strange feeling arose in him of great, distant, compassion. The very air in his lungs felt somehow — finer.

It suddenly made sense.

His Father and his Uncle had been right.

These secrets, these gifts his Father had gathered and his Uncle had held so dearly over the years, would only make sense when he was ready for them and not before.

He could be led to the truth, but in order to truly understand it he would need to be ready.

For the first time Heryshaf understood that Understanding was a very different quality from knowledge.

Knowledge was just words.

Empty ringing sounds without a vessel to contain them.

One had to be ready to hold knowledge before it could become understanding.

Understanding only arose when a piece of knowledge made sense to him in every fibre of his body and being.

Heryshaf became still.

Something had changed.

He had spent his life questioning everything outside himself.

Now, for the first time, he had caught himself in the act of believing himself.

And that gave him something entirely new to question.