Knowing the Shepherd

A Sermon for the 4th Sunday of Easter
May 3, 2009
by Pastor Laura Gentry

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

No matter how grievous a funeral is, no matter how tragic a memorial service can be, when we start to recite the familiar words of the twenty-third Psalm, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures ..." it calms the congregation. It makes all of us feel more at peace. Perhaps that’s why it is the most popular of all the Psalms.

This morning, we celebrate Good Shepherd Sunday—we acknowledge in this Easter season that our Risen Lord is our loving shepherd. Knowing that shepherd can make a difference in our lives. For Jesus, as we heard in the Gospel lesson, is quite different from a hireling, who would flee in time of trouble, who would never take a risk to help the sheep. No, Jesus is our shepherd, who knows the flock and loves each one of us. He will do anything to save us, even lay down his life.

I remember reading an article in National Geographic shortly after the great fires of Yellowstone National Park. It explained an interesting discovery made by the forest rangers who were assessing the inferno's damage.

One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched statuesquely on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat sickened by the eerie sight, he knocked over the bird with a stick.

When he gently struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their
dead mother's wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had carried her offspring to the base of the tree and had gathered them under her wings, instinctively knowing that the toxic smoke would rise.

She could have flown to safety but refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze had arrived and the heat had scorched her small body, the mother had remained steadfast. Because she had been willing to die, those under the cover of her wing were enabled to live.

I think this story so beautifully illustrates what our Good Shepherd has done for us. When sin and death were threatening to destroy God’s beloved children, the Good Shepherd stepped in and allowed himself to be sacrificed, that we might live. Just like the mother eagle, he was willing to die in order to save his beloved. When Isaiah spoke of the coming of the Messiah, he worded it by saying: "He will feed his flock like a shepherd! He will gather his lambs into his arms." That’s exactly what he has done.

And our Good Shepherd continually calls to us. He calls to draw us near to himself, to beckon us into his arms, that he might lead us. Certainly that’s what we desire, a life led by Jesus.
The call of our Lord is sometimes difficult to hear, though, because we don’t know our shepherd as well as we ought and we don’t always know what we’re listening for—there are so many other voices crying out for our attention. Other would-be shepherds seek to draw us away from the Good Shepherd—away from his forgiveness and unconditional love.

There was an American tourist, traveling in the Middle East, who came upon several shepherds whose flocks had intermingled while drinking water from a brook. After an exchange of greetings, one of the shepherds turned toward the sheep and called out, "Manah. Manah. Manah." (Manah means "follow me" in Arabic.) Immediately his sheep separated themselves from the rest and followed him.

Then one of the two remaining shepherds called out, "Manah. Manah." and his sheep left the common flock to follow him. The traveler then said to a third shepherd, "I would like to try that. Let me put on your cloak and turban and see if I can get the rest of the sheep to follow me."

The shepherd smiled knowingly as the traveler wrapped himself in the cloak, put the turban on his head and called out, "Manah. Manah." The sheep kept grazing as if they hadn’t even heard him. He cried out again and again, trying his best to emulate the shepherd’s voice, but try as he may, the sheep would not respond to the stranger's voice. Not one of them moved toward him.

"Will the sheep ever follow someone other than you?" The traveler asked.

"Oh yes," the shepherd replied, "sometimes a sheep gets sick, and then it
will follow anyone."

So with the sheep metaphor, there are sheep who know the shepherd’s voice, who follow him and only him. And then there are those sheep who will follow anyone. We have seen that in humans, too, haven't we? Battered by the storms of life and distracted by voices urging them to go this way and that—they have lost their bearings and they don't know where they are or where they are going. When they become confused, spiritually, they will follow anyone who will promise a moment of happiness, a brief feeling of peace or forgetfulness, a sense that they are someone.

But the call of Jesus the Good Shepherd is, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life." There is no better way, no greater truth, no deeper joy. Our Lord reaches out to us in love that we might follow him into pastures green.

And we who have been shepherded so lovingly have a special responsibility—to shepherd others into the arms of our Savior so they can nestle there as well. Now I know that every person here has been shepherded in the faith or you wouldn’t even be here. There were key people in your life that led you into the green pastures of faith: grandparents, parents, sponsors, aunts and uncles, pastors, teachers, friends. Just like sheep need to be in a flock to flourish, we too need one another. We come to faith and grow in it with help from other faithful people.

In this season of Resurrection, let us put our trust in our good Shepherd who knows us each intimately, who calls us by name and who carries us through all our valleys and promises us that “Goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the House of the Lord forever.” Amen.

And now, may the peace which passes all understanding keep our hearts and our minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.



© 2009 Laura E. Gentry