Steve Lindsley
John 10: 11-18, Psalm 23: 1-6 (Selected Verses)
Imagine that you have just graduated from college – cum laude, or as a relieved family member might say, Praise the Laude. Your veterinary degree assures a certain level of job security – everyone has pets, and they need to be cared for. And your 4.0 GPA doesn’t hurt, either. The day after you give your email address to the school’s job placement office, your inbox is flooded with inquiries.
So, you start scrolling through the dozens of job offers; they all look the same. That is, except for one. This one stands out, in an odd sort of way. You’re not entirely sure how your name got tagged for this position; perhaps they misunderstood exactly what your degree is in. The subject line states, The Job of a Lifetime. And this is what follows:
Develop resilience and patience while embracing the great outdoors with a career in shepherding. Spend your days and nights tending to rugged, unpredictable animals in all kinds of weather – rain, sleet, snow, or heat won’t stop you from doing what you love. Face thrilling daily challenges from wild predators like wolves. Minimal pay, with little to no room for career growth. No vacation or pension plan.
How quickly would you click the “delete” button on that sucker? How fast would you want to rid that email from your inbox?
Suffice to say that shepherding is not a career a lot of folks are gunning for these days. Truth be told, we know little about this line of work in our 21st century world. We only know what we’ve gathered from what scripture says – and that can be a little difficult to parse through.
In fact, if anything we’ve managed to craft this romanticized idea of the shepherding life, for some reason. Moms and Dads proudly decking their sons and daughters in shepherding garb for the annual Christmas pageant. Scripture puts shepherding on a sort of pedestal – Psalm 23, one of the more renowned and well-known passages in the Bible, is all about the Lord as shepherd. So, it is with today’s other scripture, where Jesus says it as plain as day: I am the good shepherd.
I am the good shepherd, he says. That word “good” in Greek is kalos, and it is a deep word, deeper than simply being the opposite of “bad.” Kalos is used to indicate something that is ordered, sound, noble, ideal, true, competent, faithful, worthy of praise. This shepherd is more than just a “good” shepherd. He is, in fact, everything we could hope for, everything we would ever need him to be.
And in a way, it’s a kind of job description that Jesus presents here, if you think about it:
This kalos shepherd, scripture tells us, is the kind of shepherd who lays down their life for the sheep. That’s what he leads with – a willingness to lay his life down.
This kalos shepherd doesn’t let the sheep scatter off everywhere when the wolves come around – they keep them all together, because there is strength in numbers.
This kalos shepherd knows their sheep – like, really knows them; not just what they look like but their habits, their behaviors, their idiosyncrasies. And the sheep, in turn, know their shepherd. Literally, they recognize their shepherd’s face and can tell the difference between their face and someone else’s.
And this kalos shepherd also realizes that there are other sheep out there besides his own; sheep who need to be brought into the fold as well – so that no sheep ever goes astray and, in the end, there will be one flock, one shepherd.
That’s quite a different job description, don’t you think?
And here’s the thing that strikes me with this – yes, the focus is on the job of this kalos shepherd. But the truth is, we learn as much about the sheep here as the one leading them.
We learn, for instance, that sheep are constantly in danger – thus, the need for someone to lay down their life if needed. Someone to keep them in herds to protect them. We learn that sheep are utterly dependent on the shepherd for everything – their food, their safety, where it is they go. And we learn that sheep need to be known by the one who leads them and cares for them.
All of which leads me to realize that, if being a shepherd seems foreign in our modern day, being a sheep must be even more so. Because we don’t like to think of ourselves as relying on anyone else. We are, to a fault, fiercely independent, wanting to do things our way. It’s okay to be led by others on occasion, but ultimately, we want to be the ones plotting our own course.
To be honest, the image that would better fit our current understanding is more of a cowboy than a shepherd, don’t you think? You know, John Wayne and all that. When danger comes knocking on our door, we are not one to stand back and let a protector answer it for us. We want to go out and take care of matters ourselves. We’re much more inclined to the cowboy way of things.
That’s why I find something that Barbara Brown Taylor once observed quite interesting. Taylor is a renowned American Episcopalian priest, professor, author and theologian; and in a sermon of hers some years back, she speaks of an acquaintance who had actually grown up on a sheep ranch. This friend told her that, contrary to popular opinion, sheep were not as unintelligent as people might think. That rumor likely originated among cattle ranchers, her friend surmised, puzzled by sheep’s eccentric behavior as compared to cows.
What’s notable in this, Taylor offers, is the difference between cows and sheep when it comes to herding. Cows, it turns out, are herded from the rear, with shouts and prods. It’s the “push” from behind they respond to; that’s what gets them moving. Sheep, on the other hand, are motivated in an entirely different way. They move when someone they know goes ahead of them and leads the way. You see the difference? For sheep, no amount of pushing from behind will do the trick – instead, they only go somewhere the trusted shepherd goes first.
My friends, Jesus leads each of us as a kalos shepherd – and not as a cowboy. Jesus doesn’t lead us with shouts and prods, cajoling and pushing us from behind into some place he’s not willing to go first himself. No, Jesus leads us first and foremost by knowing us – all of us, including the parts of us we may not want known.
Not long ago I was talking with a colleague about this whole idea of the shepherd knowing all of us and our inherent resistance to that. And my colleague observed – wisely – I think, that it reminded her of how we treat social media. You know what I’m talking about – our tendency to populate our Facebook timelines and Instagram feeds with fun pictures, cool posts, the good side of life, the best image of ourselves. We do this, of course, because that’s the side we want people to see; the image we want to project out.
Even though life rarely resembles that picture-perfect image. Even though there’s a whole other side of our lives that we’d rather not put out to the public – the side of doubt, of pain, of brokenness, of uncertainty.
And yet – when Jesus says I am the good shepherd, he is telling us that it’s that other side, the side we don’t want seen, that Jesus in fact loves. Because he, the good shepherd, makes a point of knowing, really knowing, his own. Because he doesn’t just love all of us, he loves all of us.
And because he really knows his own, and because he loves all of us, he goes ahead of us in plain sight, so we can see it is him there, our trusted, good shepherd, and follow him wherever he leads.
Tell me something, people of God: what is it like being sheep with this kind of shepherd? What’s it like knowing that you are fully known – every bit of you, every part – known by a God who loves all of you? Loves those parts of you that you don’t want others to see, that you wouldn’t post on Instagram. What’s that like – is it comforting? Maybe even a little frightening?
And what’s it like being people of a God who leads us forward not as a cowboy but a shepherd: pulling you out of the mud, calling you by name, showing you the way forward by going there himself. What does that feel like: A relief? Encouraging?
What does it mean to be fully known and loved by God?
At a recent staff meeting, I shared a story about Henry Freeman, a fundraiser for a small liberal arts school. Henry had been rushing through meetings with prospective donors and was headed to meet Margaret, an elderly woman in Boston, for dinner at her retirement home. With a late flight, traffic, and an early start the next day, Henry intended to tell Margaret he only had an hour to spare, as the visit was more about building a connection than securing a gift.
Those plans were shot the minute Henry walked in her front door and Margaret welcomed him with, “Now, Henry, be honest—do you like asparagus? I made some to go with your steak. How do you like your steak cooked?” And as they sat down for dinner, Margaret offered up grace with these poignant words: “Thank you, God, for having Henry here with me, so I have someone to talk to.”
Turns out that, earlier that day, Margaret had learned that she was dying of cancer. She had no family; in this moment she only had Henry. And for the next three hours Henry listened to Margaret share childhood memories through laughter and tears; he listened to her recount people in her life who were important to her. He held her hand as she shared her fears of an uncertain future.
Later, as Henry reflected on his visit with Margaret, he realized his mistake: how he had approached their meeting with an agenda in mind, his agenda. It became clear to him that we should always make space for what is in the heart of people who welcome us into their lives, and in so doing give them the great gift we can – of being fully known and fully loved.
That is what the shepherd does for each of us – sometimes with us willing, sometimes with us kicking and screaming. And that is when we understand the beauty of Jesus as our good shepherd and us as his sheep. That we are the ones who are lost, and through Jesus are found. That all our efforts, all our best intentions will not, cannot, make things right on their own. That is why we are the sheep and thank God that is why Jesus is the shepherd.
I don’t envy him the gig, to be honest. Shepherding comes with all kinds of job hazards, perils and pitfalls. Very few guarantees. For the life of me I don’t know why he got a hold of that shepherding job description all those years ago and chose to sign up for it anyway.
Except that maybe – just maybe – the job description he read went something like this:
Enjoy the wonder and beauty of creation with a career in shepherding. Develop meaningful relationships with easily lost but big-hearted creatures. Large capacity for love, grace and mercy required. Expect to not always see the results of your labors – but expect lives to nevertheless be changed. No pay or benefits, but the experience is priceless.
I’m reminded of the little girl who misheard the opening line of the 23rd Psalm: The Lord is my Shepherd, she proudly recited, that’s all I want.
Seems to me, she heard it just right. Indeed, that is all we want. That’s all any of us could ever need.
In the name of the Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer, thanks be to God – and may all of God’s people say, AMEN!
* Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation, the written accounts occasionally stray from proper grammar and punctuation.