"Being Shepherded" Easter 4 May 7, 2006

(First read the texts for this sermon: Psalm 23 and John 10:11-18.)

“I am the good shepherd.” What beloved words! What a comforting image. Isn’t it wonderful to think of being shepherded?

I have a photograph in my office of a shepherd and his sheep. It’s a beautiful shot that was published in the New York Times this past fall, and it just captivated me. I googled the photographer, found his web site, sent him some money, and he sent me a copy!

In the photograph, it’s early morning in Vermont and very misty. (The photographer has captured droplets of water, on the fences and the grass.) The scene appears to be entirely peaceful and pastoral. The shepherd is leading his sheep out of their barn. You can distinctly see the features on the faces of the sheep closest to the camera. Then, behind, there is a stream of sheep following; those towards the back fade into the darkness of the barn’s interior.

The shepherd is walking, and the sheep are following behind him. It’s just like the Biblical image! Here’s something that’s striking. The sheep are all bunched together, but as they follow behind the shepherd, the sheep are walking along furrows, pathways that they have worn each morning, day after day. (In between the furrows, there’s lush green grass! The sheep obviously never walk on that grass!) Again, that’s a comforting image, isn’t it? The sheep, following the shepherd, along the same pathways, day after day. (Remember the line from Psalm 23? He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake.)

But I want to avoid a common temptation on this annual Sunday of the Good Shepherd: to turn this into “Fuzzy Lamb Sunday.” Because all is not cute and cuddly. When the sheep leave the barn, they leave safety behind and they step out into danger.

There’s a hint of that in the photograph on my office wall. In fact, the shepherd is not the first figure in this procession that I’ve been describing, leading the sheep out into pasture. Do you know who’s going out first, even before the shepherd? It’s the dog!

I’ll bet this is not a gentle dog – at least, not where the sheep are involved. A sheep dog is no-nonsense. A sheep dog quickly gets after a sheep that’s wandering away, to bring it back to the herd. Why? Because there’s danger out there, for a solitary sheep. If a menacing animal approaches the herd, how do you think the dog will react? (I don’t think the dog will extend a very warm welcome.)

Of course, there are all kinds of parallels that we could draw from that photograph to our daily lives as sheep, being shepherded by the Good Shepherd. How often, for instance, do you and I walk along the same worn furrows, each day, in our day-to-day routines? We could go off in that direction. And (avoiding the temptation to turn this into “Fuzzy Lamb Sunday”), we could speak about the comparative dangers that threaten us. There are literal, physical dangers. There are spiritual temptations that would lead us down pathways towards despair. There are dangers of addictions to destructive chemicals that we put into our bodies. It is spiritually dangerous for us when we isolate ourselves from the community of others.

And so, there is danger just below the surface of this morning’s readings from the Psalms and from John. In John, we hear those first, comforting words. But then listen to what follows. "I am the good shepherd. Then: The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away--and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep.”

This, of course, describes what Jesus did, ultimately, in his role of good shepherd, laying down his life for the sheep. I am struck, especially, by these words: I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me,… In the midst of daily dangers, there’s an intimacy here. There’s deep love between the Christ and his sheep.

We find the same comforting intimacy in the first verses of Psalm 23:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
for his name's sake.
But then follows the acknowledgment of the danger that surrounds us each day:
Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff--
they comfort me.

“Your rod and your staff.” What are they? When you think about these familiar and beloved words, you recognize that a rod and a staff are used by the shepherd as weapons, when necessary, to defend the sheep from a predator! There’s comfort, in the thought that we’re being protected by God. But does God protect us from all dangers? Tragedies do occur. Bad things do happen to good people.
Are you and I free from the fear of any evil? Instead, aren’t we often full of fears and anxieties?

Here’s how a preacher named Kimberly Bracken Long comments on this:

“This is the life to which we are called – what it means to follow the good shepherd, to be part of his flock. To sometimes receive and sometimes give – to know not only in our minds but in our guts security in the face of danger, joy that crowds out sorrow, and love that overwhelms fear. It means being led along paths we would not choose for ourselves, to be prodded by the shepherd who knows our needs better than we know our own, to be blessed so thoroughly and so richly that we would not have even known how to ask for it.

“Knowing a shepherd like that changes things – it changes us – for to follow this shepherd is to trust – profoundly and completely – that in every circumstance we are protected and led by the one who stands guard against the worst the world can do. It does not mean that death will not come, that tragedy will not strike, that our hearts will not be broken. But it does mean that whatever befalls us, we may sing this psalm, too:

“Even though I walk through the corridors of the ICU, I will not fear death…

“ Though I pass through the valleys of depression or delusion, I will not be alone…

“Though people may taunt me or shun me, I will not lose heart…

“For you anoint me…guard me…love me….”

That’s a good description, I think, of what it means to be shepherded by the Good Shepherd. We are loved by God. And there’s something more. You and I are shaped by God’s love to love one another, as the writer of the First John passage puts it this morning. And so, we shepherd each other along those same pathways. We sheep take care of each other, even when our life journeys take us through the darkest valley, the valley of the shadow of death.

You who have e-mail have been reading dramatic descriptions of that, from those St. Stephen folks who have been working in Katrina-ravaged Louisiana, and who are on the way back home as we speak.

I am always touched by the love-shaped actions of someone who sees another person struggling, physically – and who simply stops and helps! (Much more frequently, people feel too pressed for time to help, or they worry about invading the other person’s privacy.) What love there is in just stopping to help someone struggling through the dark valley of physical disability.

One person told me recently that she thinks those who have suffered are those most likely to be alert to help others who are suffering. Being shepherded by God shapes us in God’s love, and it leads us to shepherd others who are experiencing the darkest valley.

Sometimes the shadow of death in that valley becomes real. Even then, God’s shepherding does not end, but extends beyond human death. Here is what we pray at the conclusion of the funeral liturgy: words rich with the imagery of this morning’s Scripture. “Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive her into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. Amen.”

What comfort there is, in being shepherded by God.

What love there is, in being shepherds for others.

In the name of God, who is Father and Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.


Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia