Having a 3 ½ year-old in your life can really change you. Now for you who are parents that is not news but Gail and I were never able to have kids, and though she as a preschool teacher has been around these critters for over 40 years, I am still learning.
When I am babysitting for Lily, our grand-niece, I really have to watch her. She is totally innocent of the dangers that surround her—totally innocent of the consequences of being 3 1/2.
Out in the back yard kicking around a ball with her and she bolts across the yard heading for the street just giggling with joy. I just can’t figure out how she can be so darned fast with such short little legs.
And she finds things, from God knows where. She found a package of safety razors. Remember those? You open the razor by twisting the handle and then sliding the blade onto the handle. They are so dangerous; I haven’t used one of those for thirty years! But she found it!
When we are in the kitchen, she rummages around in the lower kitchen cabinets—in the pots and pans, and what does she pull out to play with? The vegetable grater, that has the blades on one side, for shaving potatoes and cucumbers and such.
Holy moley, you have to be there within arm’s reach and keep an eye on her all the time. Her innocence is such a danger.
She finds such joy in simple things—like making the transition from diapers to potty. She was so proud when she learned to use the potty—look Ricky—I did it! Yes, you did a good job Lilly. Yeah! Now at 3 ½ she can do it all by herself and wants to lock the door—that’s another problem—I can do it myself.
We have crushed shell in the driveway. So every day she comes over she brings me a gift of special shells—just for you, Ricky.
They end up on the floor, where I discover them in the middle of the night by stepping on them; they are her special shells to me, and I am painfully reminded of that.
I love that little girl—so I rejoice in what she finds joy in, treasure what she gives to me, no matter how insignificant it might be. And I watch her like a hawk—at least try to.
And if I look to that little lamb with such love and feel such care and responsibility for her, how much more must Jesus care for us?
This came to mind when I read the opening line in today’s gospel where Jesus says: I am the good shepherd.
Jesus reveals his identity to us here in terms of a relationship—he is a shepherd— one whose life is devoted to caring for sheep.
And not just a shepherd but a good shepherd one whose intent and action is good, beautiful, noble, unimpeachable. That is who he is—a good shepherd.
We are the sheep. He defines his sheep as those who would follow him—those who listen to his voice–those who know him.
On the one hand, the shepherd picks them and a price is paid for them, so they are by right his. But on the other hand, to be his, they must respond—listen and follow to truly be his.
I have shared before our experiences of staying on an Irish sheep farm some years ago, where it became clear to me that when Jesus refers to us as sheep he is not complimenting us.
He is noting that sheep are defenseless and needy. They are, by their very natures a danger to themselves, and unaware of their vulnerability thus needing extraordinary care and attention.
They can walk into deep water to drink and drown.
They can become cast down or downcast—they fall and can’t get up themselves and become prey to any animal.
Jesus says we are sheep–we are needy creatures. We are in danger from threats around us and we are dangerous to ourselves, we are blind to our own vulnerability. And we really need to be cared for.
It seems to be true of Lily. And Jesus says its true of all of us!
Most of us probably don’t like being described as sheep—or lamb if you prefer—that’s a little cuter—but the same intent.
We think of ourselves as strong, independent, self-sufficient, able to take care of ourselves but, according to Jesus, maybe we deceive ourselves.
How many of us have behaviors, habits or make life-style choices that ultimately put us in situations where our lives, physically and spiritually are put in jeopardy.
What happens when we lose a spouse, a child in death? Or we suddenly find our marriage or jobs on the rocks, or we get a bad diagnosis from the doctor.
At best we tough it out. Apply Churchillian wisdom, never give up, put our nose to the grind stone, and with Lillian’s 3 ½ year-old innocence proclaim: No, I can do it myself.
At worse we might turn to drugs, alcohol, illicit relationships with the intent to escape for a moment, and failing that, some will renounce life itself.
Life in this world can be difficult, but Jesus has promised a way through.
King David lived a hard life. Himself a shepherd, first of sheep, then of a nation of God’s people, he is known as a man of faith—he sought after God with all his heart.
Yet he made some huge mistakes, and suffered the consequences of those mistakes. In the midst of his life he wrote a song, a prayer to God in which he recognized his vulnerability, and his ultimate dependence on God’s care.
It became one of the most well-known parts of scripture. My grandma Hilda used to recite it to me when I was just a kid.
Let’s think through the 23rd psalm and contemplate Jesus as my shepherd.
The Lord is my shepherd.
That is the starting point, isn’t it?. That he is my shepherd. I belong to him, he bought me at the price of his own blood, he loved me to the very cost of his life. And he wants to guide us and care for us…if only we follow…if only we listen to his voice. Can we say this confidently? If not, why?
I shall not be in want.
He provides for everything we need for life—in this world and the next. That is not to say we won’t have desires. A bit of counsel I once received. As a Christian, if you want something God is not providing, it may be you do not need it.
He makes me lie down in green pastures
He will constantly be providing—moving us along into healthy, vibrant places where we can thrive.
Sheep will not lie down; they will not rest if they are at all insecure or fearful or anxious. He gives us peace and security if we know he watches over us
He leads me beside still waters
—guides us to places of refreshment—and keeps us from getting in over our heads.
He revives my soul
—stands us up from being downcast—sets us upright in the midst of trials, forgives us our sins and restores us to be able to follow him. He provides second chances.
He guides me along right pathways for his name’s sake.
Following him where he goes, obeying him, keeps us on the right path—a path that glorifies him as much as it keeps us safe because he is invested in us.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me.
Not even death has power over us—he has overcome it. He is our life—
Your rod and your staff they comfort me.
He will both protect us from enemies, and will discipline us when we insist on our own way. Sometimes the consequence of our walking away from the shepherd is not punishment but his form of time-out. Think about where you are and what you have done, and what you are going to do about it
You spread a table before me in the presence of my enemies
You have anointed my head with oil and my cup runneth over
In the presence of a hostile world he wants communion with us, to provide for us, to bless us and heal us. But are we looking at the enemies, the threats, or focused on the shepherd, rejoicing at what he provides?
Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever
Now and always he is with us, even unto eternity. Do we live life with the hope and promise of eternity with our shepherd before us?
We know the psalm, but do we know the shepherd? Please read this psalm over again this week. Use it as a prayer, as you consider Jesus as your shepherd.
The time I have being a shepherd for my little lamb Lily brings me such joy, a little pain, moments of stark terror. But I love her so, I am blessed to be there for her.
Jesus is our shepherd. I’m sure he thinks the same about us.
One little girl once summarized this psalm to her Sunday school teacher: the Lord is my shepherd; that is all I want.
May that be our desire.
Sermon preached by the Rev. Richard C. Marsden
The Church of the Redeemer
Sarasota, Florida
4th Sunday of Easter
26 April 2015