Shepherd of the Sheep

John 10: 1-18; Psalm 23

FPC; 4-13-08

         When I was a child between the ages of five and eleven, my family lived in a manse located across the road from the Glenn Springs Presbyterian Church, where my Dad was the pastor. My favorite playground was the forest surrounding the church.  Through that forest, my brothers and I carved paths down which we rode our bicycles.  We built teepees that would have made our Cherokee ancestors proud.  We constructed dams in the creeks that wound through those woods and sometimes we swam in those waters. 

          Almost daily I would run out of the house and into the dense forest to play.   Before I ran too far, one of my parents would give me this admonition.  “Be home before dark.”    

          They equated darkness with danger, the danger of losing your way; the danger of nocturnal predatory animals searching for food; the danger of becoming frightened by the solitude. 

          Sometimes, darkness is synonymous with danger.  Perhaps that is why those two Emmaus Road travelers invited the stranger who had joined them on their journey to spend the night in their home. When they reached the village of Emmaus, night had fallen, darkness had descended.  “Stay with us.” 

          Centuries later, monks who had sought spiritual strength in monasteries would repeat that same invitation as they offered their prayers at the end of the day: “Stay with us, Lord, for the day is now nearly over and the evening is falling.”[1] 

          “Be home before dark.”  My parents knew that the vulnerable need to be guarded and gathered as the fog of darkness begins to descend.    

          Palestinian shepherds of biblical times also equated darkness with danger. They knew their flocks were vulnerable to the predators that stalk their prey at night.  So, before night fell, they sought to guard and gather their sheep into the fold of their care. 

The writer of Psalm 23 thinks of himself as a sheep whose paths sometimes took him through darkness where danger lurked; dark valleys where enemies drew near and evil surrounded him. 

          The Psalmist who thinks of himself as a sheep also understands God as a shepherd who cares for the well-being of his sheep, a shepherd who brings his sheep into the shepherd’s fold, especially when darkness has descended and danger is near; in the fold of the Shepherd’s care, there is a sort of homecoming where inexplicable joy and boundless love are known. 

          There is no happier and more joyful news than the news that God’s shepherd-like care and love has become incarnate in Jesus. 

          In the center of London lies Trafalgar Square. It commemorates the Battle of Trafalgar, one of the great naval battles of history, which was fought in the Mediterranean off the coast of Africa in October 1805.  It pitted the combined French and Spanish fleet of Napoleon Bonaparte against the British fleet under the command of a man who was already the most beloved of all British heroes, Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson.  The British defeated the French and Spanish.  The victory gave Britain control of the seas.  But Lord Nelson was killed in the battle. 

         At the center of Trafalgar Square a towering monolith or column was erected in honor of Lord Nelson.  And at the top of the column they placed a statue of the great man.  But the statue was so high that Nelson was invisible from ground level; you could see nothing of him “up there”; he was lost in the heavens.  So they did the only thing they could do.  They brought Nelson down to earth.  In 1948 an exact replica of the statue at the top of the monolith was erected at eye level where it could be clearly seen.[2]  

         In Christ, God has been brought down from the top of heaven’s highest heights to our earthly human level.  In Christ, we experience Immanuel, God with us.  We understand God’s shepherd-like love because of Jesus, the Good Shepherd who replicates God’s love.

          He is the good shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine to go out in search of the one who has strayed; the good shepherd who knows his sheep and whose voice the sheep recognize; the good shepherd who encounters us in the body of Christ through our shepherding of one another.  

          You may be familiar with the old story about a man who, in the midst of a disastrous flood, took refuge on the roof of his water-filled home. With the unconquerable faith of the 23rd Psalm, he prayed that God might rescue him; and he heard God speaking to him, saying he would be saved. Soon after, a sheriff's deputy came by in a small motor boat offering to get him to higher ground. The man said no, he was staying put, because God was coming to rescue him. "The Lord is my shepherd.”

          The waters continued to rise and now had come to the roof line. Another rescue worker came, in a pontoon boat, and offered him a ride. Again the man refused, saying God would rescue him. "The Lord is my shepherd."

          Finally the waters rose so high that even the roof was almost submerged. A helicopter hovered in, and a rope ladder tumbled down. A voice from the chopper urged him to grab hold. "No," the man shouted back. "God will save me. The Lord is my shepherd."

          The waters rose still higher, until finally the man drowned. He arrived at the Pearly Gates, sopping wet and very angry. He sputtered his distress to St. Peter complaining that the only reason he was in this condition was that God had failed to keep the promise. But before Peter had a chance to reply, from behind the gate came a great voice thundering, "I sent you a sheriff's deputy, I sent you a pontoon boat, I even sent you a helicopter. What more do you want?"[3]

          One of the great values of having a shepherd program at this church is that we are assured there is someone- an elder or a deacon- designated, I would say, called by God, to embody the shepherd love of Christ when floodwaters of life are rising, darkness descends and danger is lurking.   

          But as people who ascribe to the reformed doctrine of the priesthood of all believers, the truth is that we all have been called to be shepherds for each other. 

          In the book entitled Night, Elie Wiesel, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, writes about some of his experiences as a child in Nazi concentration camps.  He recounts a conversation he had with the leader of his cell block, as Wiesel’s father was close to death from hunger and dehydration.  The man told him:

          “Listen to me, boy.”  Don’t ever forget that you’re in a concentration camp.  Here, every man has to fight for himself and not think of any one else.  Even of his father.  Here there are no fathers, no brothers, and no friends.  Everyone lives and dies for himself alone.”[4] 

          There are no words that capture the spirit that would destroy the human community more quickly that those words: “Everyone lives and dies for himself alone.” 

          Thanks be to God for the church where we respect the life and dignity of one another and where we care about our neighbor’s welfare as much as our own.  Thanks be to God for the church where we shepherd one another with the love of the One who is the Good Shepherd.