The good Shepherd

John 10:1-21

Most of us have heard the rumors that sheep are stupid animals, that all they are equipped to do is follow. And let’s be frank, in a world driven by the intelligence, prowess, and self-sustainability of the individual—none of us wants to be a sheep. Sheep aren’t leaders, they’re followers. They aren’t fierce protectors, they’re unwitting prey. Sheep aren’t unique or intriguing—they’re just sheep. And heck, sheep are so un-unique, so much a part of the crowd that we use the same word when talking about one or 100, a sheep, 10sheep, it doesn’t matter- they blend in with the crowd and they all follow the same guy, or gal.

So we have this thing against sheep. We don’t admire them and generally don’t’ want to be like them—seemingly skiddish, unthinking, and un-unique animals. No, we don’t want to be sheep. We’d rather be fierce like a lion, or cunning like a fox, or strong like an ox, or even loving as a puppy. But to be a bunch of sheep….nah….

But there’s a bit of a problem with our reluctance to be sheep. You see, Jesus is the good shepherd—the beautiful, dedicated, caring, and brave good shepherd. He’s the protector, and the provider. He will even lay down his life—but he doesn’t do these things for the lion or the fox, the horse, or the dog—Christ does it for the sheep. Basically, in order for Christ to care for us, protect us, lead us, guide us, and provide for us, he must be our shepherd, and we must be his sheep.

Now some of you still may not want to be sheep, but there’s good news. Sheep are actually cooler than their bad rap suggests and you might even notice some characteristics that are already a part of who we are. Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia shares these traits:

• · Sheep hang out in groups
• · They recognize faces
• · They often congregate in smaller subgroups, sometimes related to family ties
• · There’s some degree of hierarchy among sheep with some being leaders
• · Sheep flee from danger, but will confront head on if one of their young is at risk
• · Sheep learn to stay in a particular area.

See, we already have a head start on this sheep thing. We’re communal too; if we’re smart we run from danger, but come to fight for our kids. Sheep stick together and they follow their leader.

Jesus. The good shepherd. If we allow ourselves to follow him, he’ll lead us and feed us, and seek us out when we are lost, he’ll even go so far as to risk his life, he’d die for us b/c we are worth everything to him. The good shepherd knows his sheep and his sheep know him. Jesus knows you and if you follow him you’ll know him too.

You’ll know him so well, so intimately that you come to know his voice. Maybe that seems simple or obvious, but think about it—think about the warmth and comfort of hearing the voice of someone you love. Think about it—a long hard night on the road—straining to see through the storm, anxious about other drivers, tense and alert, and at the end exhausted and spent. And yet before you can sleep you need to hear the voice of that certain someone, the one whose mere “hello” will quiet your nerves.

Or maybe you’ve just come from the doctor—bad news. They’ve noticed something—an abnormality and now they have to run more tests. You’re scared and your stomach is doing flips, you need assurance and comfort and so again you call to hear that voice. There’s comfort in that voice because you know you’ll find compassion and understanding, hope and assurance. You’ll find not just kind words, but a relationship, a history, past trials as well as triumphs. There’s freedom and peace, solace and space in the voice of one who loves you!

Scripture goes on from telling us that we, the sheep, know Christ’s voice, it tells us “[he is] the good shepherd [he] knows his sheep and [his] sheep know him.” Ahh to be known! Since leaving home to go to college, I’ve moved a lot—at least 11 different times—new cities, new neighbors, new customs, and new relationships. Time and time again I found myself saying, it’s just so hard—nobody knows me here!” I hated having to re-explain who I was, what my past held, what my beliefs were, what my hopes were—all so that someone might be able to understand me and eventually know me. Because there’s nothing like being known. Recently I had the opportunity to go back to Atlanta and visit with seminary friends and there was something so comforting in being in their presence—they had journeyed with me—figuratively and literally. They had laughed with me and cried with me, been scared for me, and celebrated with me. They knew my quirks, the inside jokes, and my gifts. They knew me and it was nice to be known.

Just as I found comfort and joy, energy and renewal in being with those who know me—Christ offers that same intimacy. He knows us—in that deep down raw and vulnerable, bear all kinda way. Christ knows you and he knows me.

I want you to look at your neighbor and say,

· “Neighbor, Christ knows you.”

· “Neighbor, Christ sees you.”

· “He knows what you’ve been up to.”

· “Your greatest joy, he celebrates with you”

· “That thing you don’t want anyone to know about--he knows it.”

· “And guess what?!?! He loves you in spite of it and he loves you because of it.”