Life with the Good Shepherd

At that time the Feast of Dedication took place at Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the colonnade of Solomon. So the Jews gathered around Him and said to Him, “How long will You keep us in suspense? If You are the Christ, tell us plainly.” Jesus answered them, “I told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in My Father’s name bear witness about Me, but you do not believe because you are not among My sheep. My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.”

The Jews picked up stones again to stone Him. Jesus answered them, “I have shown you many good works from the Father; for which of them are you going to stone Me?” The Jews answered Him, “It is not for a good work that we are going to stone You but for blasphemy, because You, being a Man, make Yourself God.” Jesus answered them, “Is it not written in your Law, ‘I said, You are gods’? If He called them gods to whom the word of God came—and Scripture cannot be broken—do you say of Him whom the Father consecrated and sent into the world, ‘You are blaspheming,’ because I said, ‘I am the Son of God’? If I am not doing the works of My Father, then do not believe Me; but if I do them, even though you do not believe Me, believe the works, that you may know and understand that the Father is in Me and I am in the Father.” Again they sought to arrest Him, but He escaped from their hands.

He went away again across the Jordan to the place where John had been baptizing at first, and there He remained. And many came to Him. And they said, “John did no sign, but everything that John said about this Man was true.” And many believed in Him there.

John 10:22-42

Growing up, my family and I spent a lot of time in East Texas. For generations, the ranch has been a part of our family’s story – dating back to my great-grandfather building the original ranch house settled in the pastures of Saltillo, Texas. But our history dates back even further than that to when my grandfather was born in a one-room farmhouse during the Great Depression. No one knew the country like my grandfather.

As a little girl from the city, I remember how different nighttime felt in the country. The glow of city lights and the noise of cars and sirens fell quickly away – and a stillness that you could tangibly feel settled in. The sounds were different – the lack of sound, the stillness, was almost deafening. The ranch house was about a two-minute walk from the chicken coop just down the road. Every night, it was someone’s brave task to take that walk and lock the chickens up for the night. A daunting duty in the dark. I could run…but what if something was running faster? I could tiptoe…but what if that was the biggest mistake? Everything is terrifying, and nothing is safe when you are all alone in the dark. It is the height of vulnerability.

But what if I wasn’t alone? What if the one who knew the country roads the best and who had no fear of what could come was by my side? My grandfather knew each sound of the country like the next note of a beloved hymn. He wasn’t startled by a scuffle near his foot or a stirring in the bush. And in his confident presence, I found courage. I didn’t need to run – I simply fell in step with his stride and held tight to his hand. I was walking in the night and through the wilderness with a steadfast peace that could only be explained by the company that was by my side.

In John 10, something is looming ahead in the near future for Jesus. The darkness of His suffering, crucifixion, and death has cast a long shadow, and yet Jesus is found at another feast and with another word for His followers, His sheep. To be compared to sheep may feel like a disgrace and offense. And in many regards, we are deserving of such a comparison. Yet it is also an identification of endearment. For the love and comprehensive care of his sheep is the shepherd’s greatest focus. There is a transcendent sweetness in belonging to the shepherd – for he is always near. A shepherd knows his sheep best and loves his sheep most.

And so, darkness will come, and yet the sheep are safe—for there is security with the shepherd. There may be darkness all around, but the sheep do not scatter, dart, or panic. The shepherd is near, and he knows the darkness better than anyone.

The study of Jesus as the Good Shepherd dramatically reorients my perspective on the darkness of this world and the valleys we will traverse. In Psalm 23, David declares that he “walks through the valley of the shadow of death” (Psalm 23:4). Who WALKS through darkness – and furthermore a valley shadowed with death? Walking sounds absurd. The only logical explanation is that the pilgrim must not be alone. He must have a companion who has infinite strength to defend, protect, provide, and shelter. The pilgrim can walk and not run. The sheep can lie down in green pastures and sleep. The little girl can bravely lock up the chickens for the night. For she is not alone.

The world can do its worst, but the sheep are secure. There is a sweetness and security in belonging to the Good Shepherd. May that identity anchor our souls as Holy Week approaches.