Springwood Presbyterian Church: Whitsett, NC

Psalm 23

Earlier in this chapter, Jesus healed a man blind from birth.  When the man testified that this miracle was God’s work, the Pharisees were offended and drove him out of the Temple.  Jesus spoke to the man afterward saying, I came into this world for judgment, so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.  Some Pharisees overheard this and asked if he was implying they were blind.  He answered, If you were blind, you would not have sin.  But now that you say, “we see”, your sin remains.  Then he identified himself as the good shepherd—a royal image in the Hebrew scriptures--and that further enrages his enemies.  When our passage begins, they ask if he is the Messiah, and he replies again with the image of the Good Shepherd.

John 10: 22-30                                                                                            4-25-10

Knowing the Voice

One of the most familiar images of Jesus is the Good Shepherd.  The problem is, when we call him our shepherd, that makes us sheep, and we might not like to think of ourselves as “sheepish.”  Friday evening over dinner, I asked friends what they think of when they hear the word “sheep”.  One said “Jesus.”  Other responses were wooly, slobbery, soft, skittish, gentle, smelly, dumb.  My father’s name for someone he considered an idiot was “mutton-head.”  But sheep do have some sense.

Western movies have taught us that the way to get cows moving is for cowboys on horses to whoop and holler behind them.  I saw a modern take on that a few years ago on the main street of the Scottish island of Iona, as a girl on a 4-wheeler hustled cows down the street to a fresh pasture--but she wouldn’t have gotten anywhere trying to move the island’s hundreds of sheep that way.  Sheep, you see, run around and get behind you.  Sheep like to be led.  They won’t go anywhere until someone else goes first, to show them that everything’s all right.  That’s not so dumb!

People are a bit like that, too.  Don’t we pay more attention to someone showing us the way than to someone telling where to go?

Sheep grow fond of their shepherds and seem to consider them family.  Their own shepherd can walk through a sleeping flock without waking up a single lamb, while, if a stranger sets foot in the field, they’re up and alert—baaaa-ing and dashing around in panic. The sheep and shepherd even have their own special ways of communicating.  Just as a parent learns what an infant’s cry means, so a good shepherd knows the bleat of greeting from a bleat of pain.  The sheep learn a certain whistle means food, while a cluck might mean, “Let’s go home.”

Some years ago, I stood overlooking the sea of Galilee in Israel and watched several Bedouin shepherds lead their flocks to a watering hole to drink.  The sheep milled around together—visiting, I guess—and getting thoroughly intermingled.  I couldn’t tell one from the next, much less which sheep belonged to which shepherd, but the sheep knew, and so did the shepherds.  They whistled or called out, and like clockwork, one sheep after another moved out of the crowd to follow the right shepherd home.  They knew, and trusted the one who led them.

God wants to lead us--to keep us safe and close to our loving Shepherd.  We often read this psalm with funerals for the comfort, in the midst of dying and death, that God is with us, even in the valley of the shadow of death, as the translation we’re most familiar with puts it.   Yet, it’s also about living without fear, and with a joyous purpose, whenever we walk through the valley of deepest darkness, where unknown dangers lurk to frighten sheep and shepherd alike.  This gives our ordinary daily activities—eating and drinking and seeking a secure place to live—a God-centered perspective that challenges our usual way of thinking.  God knows what we need, and provides it.  Having experienced God’s care in the past, the psalmist and we can be thankful and praise God.

According to the Hebrew translation, God renews our lives so we live fully, without fear and with everything we need for abundant life.  Soul in Hebrew means life-force, so in our familiar translation, he restores my soul means God revives us and renews us.  A sheep lying down in green pastures has abundant food.  Beside the still waters is where the water is shallow and calm, so the sheep can safely wade in to drink without risking losing their footing and drowning.  To be guided in right paths is to be led to safety, away from danger.   Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me speaks even more strongly of security, for the shepherd uses the rod as a club to fight off wild animals that attack the sheep, and uses the staff to guide the sheep along treacherous rocky trails.  The shepherd provides everything the sheep need: not because the sheep are good—not because they volunteered to be there—but simply because they belong to the shepherd.

Jesus cares for us not because we’re good—not because we volunteered to be here or because we’ve achieved something special—but simply because we belong to him.  Jesus came to meet us where we live in this great green pasture of the world: to be one of us; to understand us; to talk to us in ways we can understand, building up our trust, so we will follow him.

Trusting him doesn’t blind us to the evils and hurts of the world or hide them under a blanket of false security.  Rather, our trust is founded on our experience of him: remembering he’s with us in dark times as well as good ones, and that he provides what we need, if not always what we want.

Even today, the shepherd in the Middle East is the protector of his sheep and of any traveler who needs shelter from the dangers—natural or human—in the desert.  The Bedouin law of hospitality demands that, once a shepherd accepts a traveler into his tent, he’s obliged to keep the stranger safe and to feed him bountifully.

How much greater is God’s hospitality.  More than a temporary resting place, it’s a place we can rest—repose—for all our days, and be nourished in body and soul.  In God we find limitless protection from the powers that threaten to crush our spirits and keep us from living fully today and every day.

The shepherd is also a model for our Christian life and our ministry.  When we listen for, and are led, by Jesus’ voice, we learn to lead, rather than to push--to go in front to make the way safe for the young or helpless--to provide generously and not deprive by our individual actions as well as by our actions as citizens in how we ask our legislators to vote--to teach gently--and to let our works and actions testify how to have a relationship with God. 

Words alone can deceive as much as they can witness to Christ.  Jesus might have answered the Pharisees, “Yes, I am the Messiah,” but how many would have followed him?  The works he did in God’s name and the way he treated people with love and compassion bore the most persuasive witness to who he was.  The works we do in his name will bear far stronger witness to our faith than our words ever will.

But both are needed.  For, beyond the property lines of this church, there are children and adults in need of hope—in need of food and shelter and protection, physically and spiritually.  Many are excluded from society because they don’t fit the expectations of the majority.  Some have little chance of finding regular—much less rewarding—work.  Others live with violence.  God, who shepherds us to abundant life, wants to give life to the whole world.  Just before this passage, Jesus says, I have other sheep that don’t belong to this flock.  I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice.  Then there will be one flock, one shepherd. (John 10: 16)  Jesus calls us to follow him, so we can lead and shepherd others.  Where can we look for those other sheep?

Look around.  When your roommate/ friend/ co-worker/ family member drives you crazy, remember the patient shepherd.  When you’re frustrated with yourself because your achievements aren’t what you’d like, remember the gentle shepherd, and don’t beat yourself up.  When you’re tempted to respond in kind to a critical relative or teacher or co-worker or friend, remember the loving shepherd and speak with love.  When you see wolves attacking someone who is weak, remember the fiercely protective shepherd and stand up for the innocent and the weak.

Hear his voice, and follow him into a new way of living.