[Video unavailable.]
Please join me in the prayer at the top of page 5 in your bulletin.
Let us pray.
Merciful Father, you gave your Son Jesus Christ to be the Good Shepherd, and in his love for us to lay down his life and rise again: keep us always under his protection, and give us grace to follow in his steps; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Almost two weeks ago, I stopped by the church office briefly and happened to see Mother Miriam while she was taking a break. She told me she was working on how she would talk to the youth at camp about Psalm 23. Since I was pondering Psalm 23 for this sermon, we talked for a bit.
We both have tended to think of Psalm 23 mainly as a comfort to those who are looking back over a long life. We’ve tended to focus on this Psalm with people who, because of health, have become less active or who may be aware that their life is nearing its end. In a similar way, families of those same people find this Psalm a comfort.
Conversations surrounding Psalm 23 have tended to take place around a kitchen table or at a bedside, during a funeral or at a graveside. We’ve often encouraged people to look back over this long life and—yes—acknowledge the evil, the enemies, the valley of the shadow of death. But especially acknowledge the Lord, our shepherd, whose loving presence has brought goodness and mercy throughout life.
Because of these experiences, we were both facing a challenge in talking about Psalm 23 to people at a different stage of life. Mother Miriam was at camp last week with youth just starting out in life. And I’m here this morning with so many people still in the active phase of life. To meet this challenge, we both found it helpful to think more carefully about sheep and about how people of faith can be like sheep.
My own experience with sheep has been pretty limited. Of course, I’ve seen them from a distance, but I’ve only been close to them twice. Once, when I was about 10 years old, my family went to the State Fair in Des Moines, Iowa. I loved the petting zoo, especially the lambs. They were sweet and soft and cuddly.
That memory led me to a purchase last year. It happened during a time when I felt like I was the lost sheep in Jesus’ parable. I wanted a physical reminder that my good shepherd seeks me in the wilderness and tenderly carries me back to the flock. So I went to Mardel’s and bought a lamb. I’ve named her Lily. She is sweet and soft and cuddly. When I hold Lily, I feel great tenderness and imagine Jesus feeling the same for me.
Unfortunately, I have to admit that when I need to be rescued, I’m not actually like Lily or the petting-zoo lambs. I’m not sweet and soft and cuddly.
My other close encounter with sheep is more to the point. Before my family moved to Iowa, we lived in southern Idaho. My father was the Methodist pastor of two churches in small country towns. One of his parishioners had a large sheep operation.
When I was about five, I went with my father to watch the sheep being sheared. Those sheep might have been soft before their wool came off, but they were not sweet. And while the shearers did hold the sheep, the action could not be described as cuddling. More like wrestling.
This second memory motivated me to learn more about sheep. Clearly, my petting-zoo, sweet-little-Lily version of sheep was not very accurate.
My father had preached on Psalm 23 based on an article giving the insights of a Basque shepherd. Through the magic of the Internet, I was able to find that article. It was originally published by Readers’ Digest in 1950. More recently, I was given a book called A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23. I can summarize what I learned with a verse from Isaiah 53: “All we like sheep have gone astray, we have all turned to our own way.”
Basically, sheep just do not do well on their own. They are subject to attacks by pests and predators. On their own, sheep make lousy decisions. For instance, they trample and graze their pastures to barrenness. They drink from muddy, infested watering holes. They squabble with one another. They follow a lead sheep going into danger. They wander off into brambles. They even roll over onto their backs and get stuck there.
With an attentive shepherd, though, sheep can flourish. A good shepherd protects the sheep from pests and predators. The shepherd prepares a number of green pastures free from poisonous weeds as well as still pools of clean water. The shepherd moves the sheep among the various pastures and watering holes to keep them green and clean. The shepherd separates sheep in conflict to restore peace. When traveling through hard terrain, the shepherd leads the sheep in right paths, keeping them close by, together as a flock.
And the good shepherd stays alert for any sheep that may wander off the right path or, while resting contentedly in a pasture, roll over onto their backs. The shepherd is always ready to bring these sheep back to join the flock or to set them on their feet again.
Perhaps I’m not the only person here who can remember acting like sheep by going astray and turning to my own way. It’s not just external threats that have caused problems in my life. True, I’ve had my share of evil and enemies and dark valleys. But my own decisions have gotten me into messes and made messes for those around me. It has been happening less frequently in recent years, but it still gets tiring, to be honest. I’d really rather flourish and see those around me flourish. How about you?
Thankfully, we—like sheep—can flourish by following in the steps of the good shepherd. Jesus Christ proclaims, “I am the good shepherd. . . . I lay down my life for the sheep.” Over time, we will find that when we follow Jesus, life gets better for us as individuals and for our communities. Life does not become perfect, but less messy. We flourish most when we stay with the flock. When we listen to the voice of the one who loves us.
This is the point of spiritual disciplines such as prayer, engagement with Scripture, and involvement with our church family. That’s how we stay close to our good shepherd so that we and our communities can flourish. Spiritual disciplines may look different for each of us, and it may take some trial and error to find what works well. In my experience, it has been worth the effort to keep experimenting. I still go astray, but less often. And I find it easier to trust that the Lord will bring me back to where I can flourish and can contribute to the flourishing of others.
So, where are we each in our relationship with the good shepherd? Are we content to stay close to the Lord? Then thank God that we’ve learned to flourish with the rest of the flock under our shepherd’s care. Thank God that we’ve found goodness and mercy there. Do we tend to go astray and turn to our own way, even though that makes life more messy for ourselves and for others? Then thank God that each time we stray, we are welcomed back to the flock. Thank God that the good shepherd is always seeking us to help us find a way out of the mess and back to flourishing. Amen.
Comments