Now I lay me down to love
Commentary
I have three young daughters. One of them in particular would say that she is an animal
lover. But, she is very much the same kind of animal lover that I was as a child, and that
so many children are.
How many parents have had the same conversation with their children?
"Daddy, can we get a puppy? I love puppies!"
"Well, sweetheart, a dog is a big responsibility."
"Oh, I know, and I promise I'll take care of him!"
"He'll need to be walked every day. You'll have to get up earlier in the morning in order to walk him before school. And then you'll have to take the time to do it again after school."
"I know. If I had a puppy, I would love to take him for walks! I love puppies!"
"He'll also need to be fed. And you'll have to keep his water dish fresh. And you'll have to help housebreak him, and train him, and clean him, and...."
"Yes, yes! I promise I'll do all those things! I really love puppies!"
I was talking to a friend from church just the other day who was repeating this same saga to me. He has four children, and they clamored enthusiastically for the family to get a dog. They promised to help do the work. But, in the end, who ended up doing it? Mom and Dad.
In that family, it turns out that they repeated the same pattern later with a kitten. In our family, our animal-lover daughter has, along the way, begged for fish, a kitten, a puppy, a bird, a hamster, and a horse. Each earnest plea has been accompanied by many promises. In our brief forays into pet-owning, however, those promises have not fully translated into dutiful patterns.
This week's selected scripture passages remind us that true love is not just talk; it is action. Love goes beyond the mere enthusiasm of a moment, and it does translate into dutiful patterns and practices. Such is the nature of God's love for us, and should be the nature of our love, too.
Acts 4:5-12
When the curtain opens on this particular scene, our people will quickly discern that something has come before. This is clearly not Act 1 -- Scene 1. Instead, we must set the stage a bit for our people by recalling the events from Acts 3.
It is worth noting the boldness of Peter here. We shall make more of a point of it below, but let us now briefly consider the recent plot and time line of Peter's story.
Earlier in Acts, Luke reports: "After his suffering [Jesus] presented himself alive to (the apostles) by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God" (1:3). We commonly calculate a period of forty days between Jesus' resurrection and ascension. Meanwhile, on the Jewish calendar, Pentecost was scheduled fifty days after Passover, which means there would have been only about seven weeks between the night of Jesus' Last Supper with the disciples and the Holy Spirit coming to the disciples on the Day of Pentecost. And Luke's account of the healing at the temple -- the event that leads to our lection -- comes immediately on the heels of his account of the Day of Pentecost.
The bottom line: At the time that Peter and John appeared before the Sanhedrin in our selected passage, only about two months had passed since those same leaders had arranged for Jesus' arrest and sentencing. On that earlier night when Jesus was arrested, where do we find Peter? He is lurking outside the high priest's house, timidly lingering around the edges of Jesus' suffering. On three occasions, when Peter is recognized as one of Jesus' followers, he flatly denies any connection to Christ.
A few days before Easter, Peter is bold only in his cowardice. A few days after Pentecost, he is looking straight in the eyes of the very men he so feared two months before, and he is flatly refusing their orders and boldly diffusing their threats.
Along with Peter's surprising boldness, another hallmark of this passage -- and of the larger episode of which it is a part -- is the theme of Jesus' name. When the man in question is first healed, it is "in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth" that Peter instructs him to "stand up and walk" (Acts 3:6). In the following chapter, when the Jewish leaders haul in the apostles for questioning and threats, they inquire, "By what power or by what name did you do this?" Peter answers that it is "by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth," and then adds that "there is no other name ... by which we must be saved." And, just beyond the boundaries of our selected text, the leaders "ordered them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus." The entire passage serves as a fascinating testimony to the importance of Jesus' name.
It is the healing that caused the great commotion, and yet the leaders do not include in their instructions any reference to healing. The text does not say, "They ordered them not to heal." And, in a sense, it's not even that they are forbidden to speak or to teach. The central issue seems to be "in the name of Jesus." That's what they're trying to stop.
The leaders' concern with the name is anticipated by their first question: "By what power or by what name did you do this?" Their very language equates power with names. This would be an appropriate Sunday to sing and reference Edward Perronet's hymn "All Hail The Power Of Jesus' Name."
Meanwhile, Peter's response -- "if we are questioned today because of a good deed done to someone" -- resonates with his later counsel to the recipients of his first epistle. Suffering unjustly and being persecuted for doing good are part of his audience's experience (see 1 Peter 3:9-18), and when Peter writes about it, he knows whereof he speaks.
Peter's juxtaposition of statements about Jesus -- "whom you crucified" and "whom God raised" -- presents a picture, at once both marvelous and terrible, of man vs. God. It is a marvelous thing to see that God's purpose is not thwarted by human opposition. On the other hand, it is terrible to see humans -- especially God's own people -- opposing him and his work.
1 John 3:16-24
It should be observed at the outset that love is a prominent Johannine theme. John's Gospel is where we find the great statement about love being God's motivation in sending Jesus (3:16), as well as the new love commandment given by Jesus (13:34-35). Likewise, it is John who seems to identify himself in the gospel as "the disciple whom Jesus loved" (as in 21:20).
The prominence of love in John's Gospel is seen again throughout his first epistle, including our selected passage. The very first verse echoes the principle found in Jesus' aforementioned "new commandment." Raising the standard from the Old Testament's "love your neighbor as yourself" (Leviticus 19:18), Jesus tells his disciples, "Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another" (13:34). And likewise here: it is how the Lord has loved us ("he laid down his life for us") that becomes the model for how we should love ("we ought to lay down our lives for one another").
John has a pragmatism that is reminiscent of James' "faith without works is dead" (James 2:26). He has no use for a love that is all talk and no action. And, with a characteristic kind of no-nonsense logic, he challenges the image of a person who has the means to help someone in need but does not. This particular theme, of course, can be found in various forms again and again in scripture (see, for example, Deuteronomy 22:1-4; Proverbs 3:27-28; Matthew 5:42; 25:31-46; and James 2:15-17).
The familiar proverb of our day, "actions speak louder than words," is not found in scripture. The same underlying spirit, however, can certainly be found here in John.
We have noted the prominence of love in John's writings, as well as his pragmatism. At the intersection of those two things -- love and pragmatism -- comes another matter that is important to John: proof.
We see the first evidence of the principle in John's account of the Last Supper. After giving the disciples his "new commandment," Jesus says to them, "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another" (John 13:35). Their love is not merely an in-house warm fuzzy; it is the proof positive to the world around them.
So, too, here in our passage. God's love for us was proven. We "know" his love because it took action, because it had hands and feet, because "he laid down his life for us." Our love, likewise, should be practically proven. And, for John, love is the ultimate and logical proof that we belong to God (see 1 John 4:7-8).
Meanwhile, as we have noted other thematic similarities between John's Gospel and our lesson from 1 John, the final verse of this passage is also reminiscent of the Last Supper scene in John's Gospel (see John 15:1-10). The Greek word for "abide" (meno), used in both lessons, is an unspectacular word by itself. It appears dozens of times in the New Testament as a standard word for living, dwelling, staying, and such. But Jesus and John take the word to a new depth when it ceases to mean abiding in a certain house or town and is taken to mean that his Word may abide in us, and we in him, and he in us.
Finally, while my first instinct would be to combine this week's passages in a sermon about the nature of true love -- love that lays down its life for others -- it could also be a Sunday to preach about Jesus' name. We observed the prominence of the theme in the Acts lesson, and it is referenced again here in 1 John. John says this is the Lord's commandment: "that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ."
John 10:11-18
This familiar passage from John's Gospel should be considered in light of three larger contexts.
First, there is the immediate context within the gospel itself. There is a crescendo of tension in this portion of John's Gospel. There has been the confrontational moment involving the adulterous woman in chapter 8, and then the controversy and antagonism surrounding the blind man whom Jesus healed in chapter 9. In chapter 10, people offended by Jesus' words picked up stones to throw at him (10:31) and tried unsuccessfully to seize him (10:39). And, set right in the midst of this escalating tension comes this teaching about the shepherd. The hired hand, about whom Jesus speaks so disparagingly, may portray these antagonistic leaders. The tension of the context is reflected in the impending doom for the good shepherd.
Second, there is a larger thematic context within John's Gospel. One of the distinctive and important features of John is the collection of "I am" statements by Jesus. Through this gospel, Jesus makes seven great claims about himself: I am "the bread of life" (6:35, 48), "the light of the world" (8:12; 9:5), "the gate" (10:7, 9), "the good shepherd" (10:11, 14), "the resurrection and the life" (11:25), "the way, the truth, and the life" (14:6), and "the vine" (15:1, 5).
While on the surface a gospel may appear to be an account of what Jesus said and did, the gospel's greater purpose is to reveal who Jesus is. This is most explicitly true in John's Gospel. This "good shepherd" identification and teaching is part of that larger, deliberate theme in John.
Third, there is a larger thematic context within the scriptures as a whole. The Bible includes numerous appeals to the familiar image of a shepherd. One of those comes from what is arguably the most famous chapter in the entire Bible -- Psalm 23. Even those of us whose backgrounds are secular rather than pastoral are touched and delighted by the beauty of David's testimony about the Lord as his shepherd.
Beyond that cherished psalm, Jeremiah 23:1-8; Ezekiel 34; Zechariah 11:4-17; and Luke 15:4-7 offer other significant uses of the shepherd imagery, and briefer allusions are legion.
The Old Testament prophets' references to shepherds lend some contextual understanding to this teaching of Jesus. They also juxtapose adequate and inadequate shepherding, just as Jesus sets himself over the inadequate "hired hand." The prophets report that God is displeased with the human leaders whose job was to shepherd his people, just as it had been first assigned to Israel's most famous shepherd (see 2 Samuel 5:2).
The Luke 15 passage, meanwhile, does not juxtapose good and bad models of shepherds. Rather, as part of the chapter's larger lost-and-found theme, it portrays the shepherd who leaves the 99 in caring pursuit of the one lost lamb. This, for most of the folks in our congregation, is the passage that likely comes to mind when they think of "the good shepherd."
Meanwhile, because Psalm 23 is already likely to be for our people the most familiar shepherd reference in scripture, we might do well to juxtapose this good shepherd with that one. The goodness of the psalmist's shepherd is evidenced by his care for the sheep. The goodness of the shepherd in our Gospel Lesson, however, is most clearly evidenced by his self-sacrifice.
The divine shepherd of Psalm 23 seems quite invincible. He is the omniscient one who knows best where I should be led; the omnipotent one who is unchallenged and unimpeded in his guidance and his providence; and the omnipresent one who is my companion in every setting and circumstance of life. We especially relish his strong companionship as our comfort through "the valley of the shadow of death" (Psalm 23:4 RSV).
Jesus' good shepherd model in John, by contrast, does not seem so beyond the reach of danger. Indeed, it is the shepherd himself who passes through death. This shepherd is not merely the one who safely guides us through (as in Psalm 23) or rescues us from (as in Luke 15); this good shepherd takes the hit for us.
Five different times in this one passage, Jesus makes explicit reference to laying down his life. While the image of the Lord as a shepherd is a familiar one, the calling of this particular shepherd seems much more menacing than the beloved shepherds of Psalm 23 or Luke 15. He does not merely stand in contrast to the inadequate shepherd -- the hired hand who runs away. He stands also in contrast to the seemingly unmolested shepherds, caring for us ultimately at his own expense.
The plight of the sheep when they are without an adequate shepherd paints a compelling picture of our utter dependence upon God and our total helplessness without him. After all, if a wolf should come, as Jesus suggests, and no shepherd is there to protect the flock, what is one sheep to do? Outrun the wolf using superior speed, like some woolly gazelle? Shall the sheep fight off the predator with its notorious sheep claws and teeth, whip-like tail, and punishing tusks? No, a sheep is one of the most helpless animals created; he needs his shepherd. And so we pray, with Dorothy Thrupp, "Savior, like a shepherd lead us, much we need thy tender care."
Application
Many children claim to be animal lovers. They make a mistake, however, when they equate really wanting an animal with really loving an animal. Really wanting something, after all, may be little other than selfishness. That is an entirely different thing than love, though the enthusiasm of really wanting something -- or someone -- often masquerades as love in our culture. Meanwhile, the parent of the would-be pet-owner knows better. The parent knows that really loving a pet is not ultimately measured by how much you want it, but it is proven by how well you take care of it.
Likewise in the New Testament, John knows that real love is proven. God's love for us was not just talk -- not just God saying, from a distance, that he really, really wants humankind to return to him. Instead God's love took action -- not selfish action -- not self-serving, self-promoting, or self-preserving -- but selfless, sacrificial action.
In his love for us, the Lord laid down his life. That is always the nature of true love: it is a costly business. And, having seen, known, and experienced his love for us, we are invited in turn to lay down our lives in love, as well.
An Alternative Application
Acts 4:5-12. "What a Difference a Day Makes." We observed above the difference we see in Peter. The same man who cowered and denied in the face of questions and pointing fingers one night stood boldly, even defiantly, before the very men he feared only a few weeks later. What changed?
While neither Easter nor Pentecost is on the calendar for today, either event might reasonably be preached this Sunday. After all, the beauty and power of those events is not found only in the stories of those days themselves. Rather, it may be that an equal significance is seen in the continuing influence of those days. That is to say, if the Easter and Pentecost events each happened, but made no ripples or waves, they would be disappointments. And so it may be the stories of other days and events -- days and events that came after Easter and Pentecost -- that best bear witness to their beauty and their power.
So it is for us this Sunday. Peter is a different man on this day standing before the Sanhedrin than he was that infamous Thursday night skulking around the fire. The difference in Peter bears witness -- not to how much he had grown and changed in a matter of a few weeks -- but to what a difference a day (or perhaps two days) makes.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 23
Today's psalm is a poem for those who have planted their standard in the ground. It speaks to those who have made the choice and committed themselves to the God of Israel. "The Lord is my Shepherd," and no other. From a host of idols and wannabe gods this is the one. This is the one who causes us to rest, who restores us, who walks with us into harm's way. And in this commitment we find remarkable results.
This most familiar of psalms, this poem of comfort and commitment sits easily with those who have made the commitment. It feels good to have a shepherd God who watches over us. But more than simply observing us, this God accompanies us through the darkest valley. This God is so present that we are able to cease being afraid. What wonders emerge from hearts that are unafraid!
This is also a psalm for the weary and burned out ones; for those whose souls need restoration. It is a missive for the workaholic who is subsumed by work and rushes headlong into exhaustion and collapse. As a friend once commented wryly, "God makes you lie down in green pastures." The implication, of course, is that if we don't take sabbath, our spirits and our bodies will rebel. We will become emotionally unstable, and our bodies will grow ill. God will, quite literally, make us lie down.
And for those whose spirits have been wrung dry by the vagaries of conflict and strife, there is a God who sets the table of reconciliation and new beginnings. You are anointed with healing, and the cup of abundant life overflows. You don't have to go it alone any longer.
Indeed, this psalm flies in the face of a culture that trumpets individualism and going it alone. It lays bare the delusion of independence and opens up the beauty and joy of surrendering to a God who is a partner for the journey; a God who lifts us up when we fall; a God who offers goodness and mercy throughout life.
Finally, this psalm is a call to "dwell in the house of the Lord forever." And no, it doesn't mean that we move lock, stock, and barrel into the fourth pew on the right. Rather, it is an invitation to live into the rhythms and dance steps of God. It is a bidding to step into a way of being that is free of fear and anxiety, a path where we are wholly dependent upon God. Perhaps another way of rendering that last line is, "I shall live according to God's reality all the days of my life."
How many parents have had the same conversation with their children?
"Daddy, can we get a puppy? I love puppies!"
"Well, sweetheart, a dog is a big responsibility."
"Oh, I know, and I promise I'll take care of him!"
"He'll need to be walked every day. You'll have to get up earlier in the morning in order to walk him before school. And then you'll have to take the time to do it again after school."
"I know. If I had a puppy, I would love to take him for walks! I love puppies!"
"He'll also need to be fed. And you'll have to keep his water dish fresh. And you'll have to help housebreak him, and train him, and clean him, and...."
"Yes, yes! I promise I'll do all those things! I really love puppies!"
I was talking to a friend from church just the other day who was repeating this same saga to me. He has four children, and they clamored enthusiastically for the family to get a dog. They promised to help do the work. But, in the end, who ended up doing it? Mom and Dad.
In that family, it turns out that they repeated the same pattern later with a kitten. In our family, our animal-lover daughter has, along the way, begged for fish, a kitten, a puppy, a bird, a hamster, and a horse. Each earnest plea has been accompanied by many promises. In our brief forays into pet-owning, however, those promises have not fully translated into dutiful patterns.
This week's selected scripture passages remind us that true love is not just talk; it is action. Love goes beyond the mere enthusiasm of a moment, and it does translate into dutiful patterns and practices. Such is the nature of God's love for us, and should be the nature of our love, too.
Acts 4:5-12
When the curtain opens on this particular scene, our people will quickly discern that something has come before. This is clearly not Act 1 -- Scene 1. Instead, we must set the stage a bit for our people by recalling the events from Acts 3.
It is worth noting the boldness of Peter here. We shall make more of a point of it below, but let us now briefly consider the recent plot and time line of Peter's story.
Earlier in Acts, Luke reports: "After his suffering [Jesus] presented himself alive to (the apostles) by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God" (1:3). We commonly calculate a period of forty days between Jesus' resurrection and ascension. Meanwhile, on the Jewish calendar, Pentecost was scheduled fifty days after Passover, which means there would have been only about seven weeks between the night of Jesus' Last Supper with the disciples and the Holy Spirit coming to the disciples on the Day of Pentecost. And Luke's account of the healing at the temple -- the event that leads to our lection -- comes immediately on the heels of his account of the Day of Pentecost.
The bottom line: At the time that Peter and John appeared before the Sanhedrin in our selected passage, only about two months had passed since those same leaders had arranged for Jesus' arrest and sentencing. On that earlier night when Jesus was arrested, where do we find Peter? He is lurking outside the high priest's house, timidly lingering around the edges of Jesus' suffering. On three occasions, when Peter is recognized as one of Jesus' followers, he flatly denies any connection to Christ.
A few days before Easter, Peter is bold only in his cowardice. A few days after Pentecost, he is looking straight in the eyes of the very men he so feared two months before, and he is flatly refusing their orders and boldly diffusing their threats.
Along with Peter's surprising boldness, another hallmark of this passage -- and of the larger episode of which it is a part -- is the theme of Jesus' name. When the man in question is first healed, it is "in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth" that Peter instructs him to "stand up and walk" (Acts 3:6). In the following chapter, when the Jewish leaders haul in the apostles for questioning and threats, they inquire, "By what power or by what name did you do this?" Peter answers that it is "by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth," and then adds that "there is no other name ... by which we must be saved." And, just beyond the boundaries of our selected text, the leaders "ordered them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus." The entire passage serves as a fascinating testimony to the importance of Jesus' name.
It is the healing that caused the great commotion, and yet the leaders do not include in their instructions any reference to healing. The text does not say, "They ordered them not to heal." And, in a sense, it's not even that they are forbidden to speak or to teach. The central issue seems to be "in the name of Jesus." That's what they're trying to stop.
The leaders' concern with the name is anticipated by their first question: "By what power or by what name did you do this?" Their very language equates power with names. This would be an appropriate Sunday to sing and reference Edward Perronet's hymn "All Hail The Power Of Jesus' Name."
Meanwhile, Peter's response -- "if we are questioned today because of a good deed done to someone" -- resonates with his later counsel to the recipients of his first epistle. Suffering unjustly and being persecuted for doing good are part of his audience's experience (see 1 Peter 3:9-18), and when Peter writes about it, he knows whereof he speaks.
Peter's juxtaposition of statements about Jesus -- "whom you crucified" and "whom God raised" -- presents a picture, at once both marvelous and terrible, of man vs. God. It is a marvelous thing to see that God's purpose is not thwarted by human opposition. On the other hand, it is terrible to see humans -- especially God's own people -- opposing him and his work.
1 John 3:16-24
It should be observed at the outset that love is a prominent Johannine theme. John's Gospel is where we find the great statement about love being God's motivation in sending Jesus (3:16), as well as the new love commandment given by Jesus (13:34-35). Likewise, it is John who seems to identify himself in the gospel as "the disciple whom Jesus loved" (as in 21:20).
The prominence of love in John's Gospel is seen again throughout his first epistle, including our selected passage. The very first verse echoes the principle found in Jesus' aforementioned "new commandment." Raising the standard from the Old Testament's "love your neighbor as yourself" (Leviticus 19:18), Jesus tells his disciples, "Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another" (13:34). And likewise here: it is how the Lord has loved us ("he laid down his life for us") that becomes the model for how we should love ("we ought to lay down our lives for one another").
John has a pragmatism that is reminiscent of James' "faith without works is dead" (James 2:26). He has no use for a love that is all talk and no action. And, with a characteristic kind of no-nonsense logic, he challenges the image of a person who has the means to help someone in need but does not. This particular theme, of course, can be found in various forms again and again in scripture (see, for example, Deuteronomy 22:1-4; Proverbs 3:27-28; Matthew 5:42; 25:31-46; and James 2:15-17).
The familiar proverb of our day, "actions speak louder than words," is not found in scripture. The same underlying spirit, however, can certainly be found here in John.
We have noted the prominence of love in John's writings, as well as his pragmatism. At the intersection of those two things -- love and pragmatism -- comes another matter that is important to John: proof.
We see the first evidence of the principle in John's account of the Last Supper. After giving the disciples his "new commandment," Jesus says to them, "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another" (John 13:35). Their love is not merely an in-house warm fuzzy; it is the proof positive to the world around them.
So, too, here in our passage. God's love for us was proven. We "know" his love because it took action, because it had hands and feet, because "he laid down his life for us." Our love, likewise, should be practically proven. And, for John, love is the ultimate and logical proof that we belong to God (see 1 John 4:7-8).
Meanwhile, as we have noted other thematic similarities between John's Gospel and our lesson from 1 John, the final verse of this passage is also reminiscent of the Last Supper scene in John's Gospel (see John 15:1-10). The Greek word for "abide" (meno), used in both lessons, is an unspectacular word by itself. It appears dozens of times in the New Testament as a standard word for living, dwelling, staying, and such. But Jesus and John take the word to a new depth when it ceases to mean abiding in a certain house or town and is taken to mean that his Word may abide in us, and we in him, and he in us.
Finally, while my first instinct would be to combine this week's passages in a sermon about the nature of true love -- love that lays down its life for others -- it could also be a Sunday to preach about Jesus' name. We observed the prominence of the theme in the Acts lesson, and it is referenced again here in 1 John. John says this is the Lord's commandment: "that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ."
John 10:11-18
This familiar passage from John's Gospel should be considered in light of three larger contexts.
First, there is the immediate context within the gospel itself. There is a crescendo of tension in this portion of John's Gospel. There has been the confrontational moment involving the adulterous woman in chapter 8, and then the controversy and antagonism surrounding the blind man whom Jesus healed in chapter 9. In chapter 10, people offended by Jesus' words picked up stones to throw at him (10:31) and tried unsuccessfully to seize him (10:39). And, set right in the midst of this escalating tension comes this teaching about the shepherd. The hired hand, about whom Jesus speaks so disparagingly, may portray these antagonistic leaders. The tension of the context is reflected in the impending doom for the good shepherd.
Second, there is a larger thematic context within John's Gospel. One of the distinctive and important features of John is the collection of "I am" statements by Jesus. Through this gospel, Jesus makes seven great claims about himself: I am "the bread of life" (6:35, 48), "the light of the world" (8:12; 9:5), "the gate" (10:7, 9), "the good shepherd" (10:11, 14), "the resurrection and the life" (11:25), "the way, the truth, and the life" (14:6), and "the vine" (15:1, 5).
While on the surface a gospel may appear to be an account of what Jesus said and did, the gospel's greater purpose is to reveal who Jesus is. This is most explicitly true in John's Gospel. This "good shepherd" identification and teaching is part of that larger, deliberate theme in John.
Third, there is a larger thematic context within the scriptures as a whole. The Bible includes numerous appeals to the familiar image of a shepherd. One of those comes from what is arguably the most famous chapter in the entire Bible -- Psalm 23. Even those of us whose backgrounds are secular rather than pastoral are touched and delighted by the beauty of David's testimony about the Lord as his shepherd.
Beyond that cherished psalm, Jeremiah 23:1-8; Ezekiel 34; Zechariah 11:4-17; and Luke 15:4-7 offer other significant uses of the shepherd imagery, and briefer allusions are legion.
The Old Testament prophets' references to shepherds lend some contextual understanding to this teaching of Jesus. They also juxtapose adequate and inadequate shepherding, just as Jesus sets himself over the inadequate "hired hand." The prophets report that God is displeased with the human leaders whose job was to shepherd his people, just as it had been first assigned to Israel's most famous shepherd (see 2 Samuel 5:2).
The Luke 15 passage, meanwhile, does not juxtapose good and bad models of shepherds. Rather, as part of the chapter's larger lost-and-found theme, it portrays the shepherd who leaves the 99 in caring pursuit of the one lost lamb. This, for most of the folks in our congregation, is the passage that likely comes to mind when they think of "the good shepherd."
Meanwhile, because Psalm 23 is already likely to be for our people the most familiar shepherd reference in scripture, we might do well to juxtapose this good shepherd with that one. The goodness of the psalmist's shepherd is evidenced by his care for the sheep. The goodness of the shepherd in our Gospel Lesson, however, is most clearly evidenced by his self-sacrifice.
The divine shepherd of Psalm 23 seems quite invincible. He is the omniscient one who knows best where I should be led; the omnipotent one who is unchallenged and unimpeded in his guidance and his providence; and the omnipresent one who is my companion in every setting and circumstance of life. We especially relish his strong companionship as our comfort through "the valley of the shadow of death" (Psalm 23:4 RSV).
Jesus' good shepherd model in John, by contrast, does not seem so beyond the reach of danger. Indeed, it is the shepherd himself who passes through death. This shepherd is not merely the one who safely guides us through (as in Psalm 23) or rescues us from (as in Luke 15); this good shepherd takes the hit for us.
Five different times in this one passage, Jesus makes explicit reference to laying down his life. While the image of the Lord as a shepherd is a familiar one, the calling of this particular shepherd seems much more menacing than the beloved shepherds of Psalm 23 or Luke 15. He does not merely stand in contrast to the inadequate shepherd -- the hired hand who runs away. He stands also in contrast to the seemingly unmolested shepherds, caring for us ultimately at his own expense.
The plight of the sheep when they are without an adequate shepherd paints a compelling picture of our utter dependence upon God and our total helplessness without him. After all, if a wolf should come, as Jesus suggests, and no shepherd is there to protect the flock, what is one sheep to do? Outrun the wolf using superior speed, like some woolly gazelle? Shall the sheep fight off the predator with its notorious sheep claws and teeth, whip-like tail, and punishing tusks? No, a sheep is one of the most helpless animals created; he needs his shepherd. And so we pray, with Dorothy Thrupp, "Savior, like a shepherd lead us, much we need thy tender care."
Application
Many children claim to be animal lovers. They make a mistake, however, when they equate really wanting an animal with really loving an animal. Really wanting something, after all, may be little other than selfishness. That is an entirely different thing than love, though the enthusiasm of really wanting something -- or someone -- often masquerades as love in our culture. Meanwhile, the parent of the would-be pet-owner knows better. The parent knows that really loving a pet is not ultimately measured by how much you want it, but it is proven by how well you take care of it.
Likewise in the New Testament, John knows that real love is proven. God's love for us was not just talk -- not just God saying, from a distance, that he really, really wants humankind to return to him. Instead God's love took action -- not selfish action -- not self-serving, self-promoting, or self-preserving -- but selfless, sacrificial action.
In his love for us, the Lord laid down his life. That is always the nature of true love: it is a costly business. And, having seen, known, and experienced his love for us, we are invited in turn to lay down our lives in love, as well.
An Alternative Application
Acts 4:5-12. "What a Difference a Day Makes." We observed above the difference we see in Peter. The same man who cowered and denied in the face of questions and pointing fingers one night stood boldly, even defiantly, before the very men he feared only a few weeks later. What changed?
While neither Easter nor Pentecost is on the calendar for today, either event might reasonably be preached this Sunday. After all, the beauty and power of those events is not found only in the stories of those days themselves. Rather, it may be that an equal significance is seen in the continuing influence of those days. That is to say, if the Easter and Pentecost events each happened, but made no ripples or waves, they would be disappointments. And so it may be the stories of other days and events -- days and events that came after Easter and Pentecost -- that best bear witness to their beauty and their power.
So it is for us this Sunday. Peter is a different man on this day standing before the Sanhedrin than he was that infamous Thursday night skulking around the fire. The difference in Peter bears witness -- not to how much he had grown and changed in a matter of a few weeks -- but to what a difference a day (or perhaps two days) makes.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 23
Today's psalm is a poem for those who have planted their standard in the ground. It speaks to those who have made the choice and committed themselves to the God of Israel. "The Lord is my Shepherd," and no other. From a host of idols and wannabe gods this is the one. This is the one who causes us to rest, who restores us, who walks with us into harm's way. And in this commitment we find remarkable results.
This most familiar of psalms, this poem of comfort and commitment sits easily with those who have made the commitment. It feels good to have a shepherd God who watches over us. But more than simply observing us, this God accompanies us through the darkest valley. This God is so present that we are able to cease being afraid. What wonders emerge from hearts that are unafraid!
This is also a psalm for the weary and burned out ones; for those whose souls need restoration. It is a missive for the workaholic who is subsumed by work and rushes headlong into exhaustion and collapse. As a friend once commented wryly, "God makes you lie down in green pastures." The implication, of course, is that if we don't take sabbath, our spirits and our bodies will rebel. We will become emotionally unstable, and our bodies will grow ill. God will, quite literally, make us lie down.
And for those whose spirits have been wrung dry by the vagaries of conflict and strife, there is a God who sets the table of reconciliation and new beginnings. You are anointed with healing, and the cup of abundant life overflows. You don't have to go it alone any longer.
Indeed, this psalm flies in the face of a culture that trumpets individualism and going it alone. It lays bare the delusion of independence and opens up the beauty and joy of surrendering to a God who is a partner for the journey; a God who lifts us up when we fall; a God who offers goodness and mercy throughout life.
Finally, this psalm is a call to "dwell in the house of the Lord forever." And no, it doesn't mean that we move lock, stock, and barrel into the fourth pew on the right. Rather, it is an invitation to live into the rhythms and dance steps of God. It is a bidding to step into a way of being that is free of fear and anxiety, a path where we are wholly dependent upon God. Perhaps another way of rendering that last line is, "I shall live according to God's reality all the days of my life."
