4 Surprising Truths About the Good Shepherd
Luke 15 records what is probably a familiar tale: the story of the good shepherd. But when Jesus told it, it contained several surprises for his hearers. First, he’s talking about a shepherd who has a flock of 100. That’s a lot! And yet, Jesus is clear, as he says in various parables, that “I know my sheep and they know me.”
He Knows His Sheep
In other words, he has an intimate, personal knowledge of his flock.
Think about it. In the average congregation, if we were to have 100 parishioners stand up on any given Sunday morning, would we be able to tell if someone was missing? Not without scrutinizing the group very carefully—and maybe not even then. And yet here is the shepherd who looks over his flock, all of which, to the untrained eye, look absolutely identical: same face, same color wool, the whole nine yards. And yet he notices that this great flock of 100 is actually only 99.
What happened to the one?
He’s Willing to Rescue
And then what does the shepherd do? He takes off and puts himself in some personal danger. He leaves the security of the familiar pasture and goes off by himself, traveling how far he doesn’t know, when all he has in hand to defend himself is a staff, what shepherds even today call their “stick.” It’s really not much defense, yet that’s the determination of this shepherd.
All he has is the staff, and yet he’s going over the hillside to find the one, the sheep who somehow got away. We don’t know what happened that would cause the sheep to wander, but regardless of the circumstances, aided only by his staff, the shepherd rescues the sheep, hoists it up over his shoulders, and carries it back to the middle of the flock.
He’s Ready to Rejoice
And notice what the shepherd says to his compatriots: “Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost” (Luke 15:6b).
I don’t know about you, but I actually might be more inclined to say, “You know how I spent the better part of my day? This one stupid sheep, who just can’t follow directions to save his life, took off on the hillside. The poor thing probably would have died if I hadn’t gone out there. It was hot as blazes, and all I wanted to do was get back to a place that had at least a little water and protection. Oh well, at least the sheep’s back. Stupid thing.”
But there’s none of this finger-wagging from Jesus. None. Instead, he underscores the rejoicing, “Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance’” (Luke 15:7).
And don’t get all religious about the rejoicing. The real scene is more like, “Yeah, break out the champagne. We’re excited here! A party’s going on in heaven.”
He Seeks and Saves
That’s the whole feel of this story. And I love that, because quite honestly, if the truth be told about my life, and I think probably yours too, the reason that story strikes such a deep chord in me is because I’m very prone to wander. What’s the line from the hymn? “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love.” That’s me. And the scripture agrees. We’re all prone to wander—and worse.
And there might be a part of me that says, “Well, that’s not very good news.” But it’s extraordinarily good news, because it means I can’t put anything over on God. You know, you can only be nice for so long and then something pops out of you that you wish wasn’t there. Right?
I’ve only been fired once in my life, thank God. As the new hire who didn’t know any better, I wound up being the fall guy for somebody else’s jealousy and lost my job. And at 25, I knew enough to know that I needed to forgive, and I worked hard at it, but the whole situation bruised my ego. And I thought I had the forgiveness thing down, until I let my mind wander, and I found myself wanting to kill the guy. I was embarrassed at my own thoughts.
But this is why I need to know there is a God who is, in fact, that shepherd who seeks and saves, who reaches out. And when he finds me in the thicket of my own misjudgment, my own sin, my own brokenness, what he doesn’t do is say, “What in God’s name are you doing? Get back where you belong!”
No. Instead, he wisely hoists me up onto his shoulders (because I could wander again, you know) and brings me back into a place of safety. I long to be in a place where there is peace, where my heart knows I am forgiven, where I’m loved and accepted and received. And that’s what we see in the gospel: somebody who will come after me again and again and again.
The Good Shepherd continues to rescue us. He died on the cross on our behalf. He loves, heals, and forgives us and promises never to let us go. He’s the one who will find us—and throw a party when he has brought us safely home.
How has the Good Shepherd rescued you? Share this blog and your response on Twitter. Please include my username, @revgregbrewer.
(This post is an adaption of Bishop Brewer’s sermon on September 11, 2016, at St. James Episcopal Church, Ormond Beach, Florida.)
Unless otherwise noted, scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.