The Fierce Shepherd

How much does anyone worry about what it means to be saved?  Saved as in eternal salvation. Okay, maybe it is important, to have a broader sense of time—eternity—and the power of God to bring abundant life.   Yeah, but also I’m American and a product of consumer culture and the expectation that whatever I want should already be in my hand right now. 

Anything with importance at a distant time might as well be imaginary—what relevance does it have for today?  Who really cares about being saved? 

I suppose the person in immediate deep trouble would care about being saved, but what about those of us who are not in imminent danger, who can muddle through life alright, access food and some healthcare and mostly pay our bills?  Why would eternal salvation ever rise very high on our long list of concerns? 

It wouldn’t.  And you know what?  I think that’s okay if etern

al salvation isn’t our primary concern.  In fact, I think Christianity has probably made too big a deal out of eternal salvation.  Probably because it’s a great way to exercise power, to suggest that any human would know precisely who is saved and who is…what, not saved?  Damned?  For eternity? 

Besides, if I can keep the conversation about salvation in a distant future, constantly pushing the horizon of how we understand time, then how convenient is that?  I can tell you that I care about you—your eternal soul!—without ever addressing your very real, very present needs right now.  How disingenuous is it to proclaim only the eternity of life in God without reflecting on what’s going on now? 

One problem with over-focusing on eternity is that Jesus didn’t do that.  Jesus didn’t heal people by telling them how great it will be to see again or to walk again someday, after they die; he healed their mortal, physical flesh.  Jesus didn’t feed people by handing them a coupon good for a full meal at some unspecified point in the future; he fed them real food that satisfied their real hunger in real time.  To keep saying that the future is gonna be so great is just not a very convincing story. 

Eternal salvation probably matters, but it just doesn’t make any sense without some attention to right now. 

I think we’ve read these Good Shepherd stories as if Jesus is some peaceful caretaker of peaceful animals in a peaceful imaginary world, as if the gate around the sheep is some eternal salvation and anyone outside the gate must necessarily be damned.  And I think we’ve missed the point. 

Jesus says, “Whoever enters by me will be saved,” and in that loaded word “saved” is lodged the history of manipulative religion—crusades and conquests and forced conversions.  The word “saved” suggests a binary between saved and not-saved, which creates distance and builds walls between one person and another.  In that word “saved” is all the various atonement theories, describing how Jesus’s death saves any humans, as if knowledge is actually the thing that will save us. 

So what if we exchange that word “saved” for a word set in the present here-and-now?  Jesus may be saying, “Whoever enters by me will be safe.” 

In this extended metaphor about sheep (John 10:1-10), consider the relationship between sheep and their shepherd.  Sheep are prey animals with no attack strategy and no natural defenses; shepherds are their defenders.  And Jesus recognizes bad shepherds, who may act like they care but they don’t truly value the sheep.  Bad shepherd don’t acknowledge each sheep’s uniqueness, because bad shepherds don’t know each sheep’s name.  Bad shepherds jump the gate by violating the sheeps’ personal boundaries, claiming power that isn’t theirs and exploiting trust they haven’t earned.  Jesus says all this because the phenomenon of bad shepherds was nothing new—Jesus knew this shepherd image from the Hebrew Scriptures he studied, just like what we read from the prophet Ezekiel earlier today (Ezekiel 34: 7-15). 

Ezekiel reports to the bad shepherds, “Hear the word of the Lord: I will rescue my sheep from their mouths, so that they may not be food for them.” 

Imagine!  Your entire job is to take care of animals and not only do you neglect to care for them, you EAT the sheep instead?! 

God, the fierce shepherd, promises: I myself will search for my sheep, I will rescue them from the places to which they have been scattered, I will feed them, I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep.  Bad shepherds, you are FIRED.  Flock around and find out. 

Jesus doesn’t go into detail about recovering sheep from bad shepherds or thieves or bandits.  Jesus doesn’t suggest vengeance against them, as much as I am tempted to imagine that.  Jesus describes the fierce shepherd as the protector with whom the sheep are in a relationship of trust. 

“Whoever enters by me,” Jesus says, will be SAFE.  You will be physically safe, your material needs cared for.  You will be mentally and emotionally safe: your name and identity are known and beloved.  You will be spiritually safe: you are free to come in and go out and find pasture—Jesus said all that! 

What would our faith look like if we cared more about God making us SAFE rather than God making us saved?  Could we slow down into the present moment, notice the green pastures where God has led us and has already provided for our needs?  Could we quiet the noise of the world long enough to hear God calling our own name? Could we trust the safety of our relationship with God such that we could lean into the freedom of coming and going through the gate? 

Because safety doesn’t mean being locked inside—that’s not salvation, that’s incarceration.  Safety is freedom to come in AND to go out, to know you’re safe wherever you go because your fierce shepherd is always looking out for you.  Would you be less afraid to explore?  Would you have the courage to befriend someone new?  How would life be different if you could trust that you are safe? 

And what would Christianity look like if we cared less about saving people in eternity and cared more about making people safe here and now?  Would we ensure our neighbors have enough to eat and a safe place to sleep?  Would we learn our neighbors’ names and call them with a similar tenderness we have heard God use in calling our own names?

This is the image of the early Christian community, like we heard in the reading from Acts (2:42-47) this morning: everyone in a state of awe because of wonders and signs they did like being together and sharing what they had.  But who would sell their own stuff just to give the money to someone else?  Who would DO that? 

Probably someone who trusts the shepherd they follow, someone who knows they already have more than they need, someone who knows the source of all goodness and who knows there’s always more where that came from. 

That sounds like life.  That sounds like living in grace.  That sounds like freedom.  That sounds like abundance. 

There are good, fierce shepherds, and there are bad, incompetent shepherds.  You don’t have to follow the bad shepherds.  Listen closely for the shepherd who knows your name.  There’s nothing more to do than simply follow the good shepherd who is taking care of you and fiercely defending you.  There’s no equations of eternal importance, no mysterious knowledge, no special words to utter to ensure your salvation.  Listen for the shepherd who is keeping you safe. 

Good indeed is the Lord, the Psalmist writes, the Lord whose steadfast love is everlasting, whose faithfulness endures from age to age.  That means God has been faithful since long ago in the past, and God is faithful right now, and God will remain faithful also in the future.  Now and in eternity. 

Amen. 

Pastor Cheryl