Of sheep and Shepherds

Sermon blogging "Good Shepherd" Sunday

When I looked at the readings for this week, my heart fell, what is there to say about psalm 23 and Jesus as the good shepherd? I've heard so many sermons on these two readings that almost always seem to drift into sentimentality and to be honest just feel a bit twee. I was right on the verge of finding something else to focus on, but just kept coming back to the lectionary readings ... It wasn't until I read a few commentaries from working preacher that everything clicked into place. I suspect there is nothing new here, and that's fine, but writing it has made me think again about these very familiar readings so hopefully this will do the same for others. It has also been interesting to read these pasages in light of a webinar with Andy Flanagan and Grahem Kendrick on worship in which one of the topics that came up was worship as whole life worship rather than simply the songs we sing on a Sunday morning, and how that is only really possible when we move from simply worshiping Jesus to actually following his teachings and example in our daily lives.

Psalm 23, John 10:1-10, Acts 2:42-47

Growing up I loved to read, particularly Science fiction and fantasy. The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, the Chronicles of Narnia, but there is one book, one story that sticks in my mind, not as a great work of literature, or even a book I’d necessarily want to read again. That is John Bunyan's “The Pilgrims Progress.” 

I’m sure many of us are familiar with the story, it follows the journey of “Christian,” as he travels from the City of Destruction to the Celestial City. The whole work is structured as a spiritual pilgrimage: conversion, struggle, perseverance, and final salvation.

It has an unmistakable link with psalm 23 and throughout the journey Christian struggles to discern the voice of the “Good Shepherd” as numerous voices speaks to him; Some promise safety, some promise comfort, and some success. All too often he discovers these promises are not what they first seemed. He must learn to recognise the voice of the good shepherd in the midst of these competing voices and promises.  

Psalm 23 is one of the most recognisable pieces of scripture, I suspect many of us can recite it from heart, reading it we think about our journey through life and that final promise of dwelling with God for eternity. but how often do we really read it and what assumptions do we read it with? 

For me one of the assumptions has been that God leads us into the dark valleys, that following God means that these are places I have to go. But that is not what the psalmist says, He does not say “He leads me into dark places” but rather, “even though I walk through the darkest valley ... You are with me.” 

Sometimes valleys come because: we have listened to the wrong voices, other times because false shepherds shape the world around us, or because suffering and grief are simply part of life in a broken world. The promise is not: if you follow well enough, you will avoid every valley. But rather, we are not abandoned there, but God the Shepherd is present with us throughout that journey. 

In the ancient world when people talked about shepherds, they were often not thinking in literal terms.  Actual shepherds were treated with distrust, seen as unreliable witnesses, socially questionable. They were necessary but not well regarded. 

However, at the same time there was also an association of “shepherd” in terms of kingship. Kings were often described as shepherds because they were supposed to; protect the vulnerable, provide justice, guide the people and ensure peace and abundance.  This language appears in: Mesopotamian kingship ideology, Egyptian royal imagery, Greek political thought, Roman imperial propaganda and in Israel’s own royal theology (especially David).  This is why John 10 is so politically charged. When Jesus says: “I am the good shepherd” he is not using cute rural imagery but is making a claim about legitimate authority. He is saying: this is what true rule looks like and by implication, much of what calls itself leadership is theft. 

So, what do these false shepherds look and sound like? If we take examples from the Pilgrims Progress, we see characters like “worldly Wiseman” These false shepherds often sound reasonable, what they offers is not obviously evil. In the Pilgrims Progress the town of Vanity Fair does the same. It tells people; this is what success looks like, this is what security looks like, Rome did that and we don’t have to look too far to see leaders making these same promises today asking for loyalty in exchange for peace all while feathering their own nests and putting self-interest ahead of the needs of the people they are leading. 

So how do we recognise the “good Shepherd? Before Jesus identifies himself as “the Good Shepherd,” he demonstrates what a good shepherd looks like.  In John 9 the man born blind has spent his whole life being treated as a problem to explain rather than a person to love. Even the disciples begin by asking whose sin caused his condition. But Jesus does not begin with blame; he begins with compassion. He sees him, restores his sight, and gives not only vision but dignity as well. When the religious leaders respond by interrogating and excluding the healed man, Jesus goes and finds him again. 

That is the contrast John wants to highlight. False shepherds protect systems and preserve their own authority; whereas the Good Shepherd seeks the lost, restores the excluded, and measures success by whether life flourishes. We get a glimpse of what this flourishing might look like in our reading from Acts. 

Acts 2:42–47 shows us what life looks like when people truly live under the care of the Good Shepherd. This is not simply a description of church activities, but of a whole new way of life shaped by the risen Christ and the gift of the Spirit. They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, fellowship (koinonia), the breaking of bread, and prayer. That fellowship was not just friendliness after worship; it meant a genuine shared life, where possessions were held lightly and resources were redistributed so that no one was left in need. It was a practical refusal of the values of empire and of Vanity Fair, where security is measured by accumulation. Instead, abundance was found in mutual care. 

Luke gives us an idealised snapshot, not a perfect church, later in Acts we will see conflict and failure, but this is offered as a vision of what the Spirit makes possible: a community where worship overflows into justice, where belonging is deeper than attendance, and where following the Good Shepherd shapes not only our Sunday worship but the whole of our shared lives.

As I mentioned earlier, we often read the ending of Psalm 23 as dwelling in God’s house forever, the journey finished, the pilgrim finally home. But the Hebrew word there, shuv, is almost uniquely translated here as “dwell.” More commonly, it means to turn or to return. Joel LeMon suggests that a better and more common reading may be I will continually return to the Lord all the days of my life.

That changes the shape of the psalm. The journey described in the psalm, and in The Pilgrim's Progress, does not simply end with arrival, but with a lifelong pattern of returning: seeking again, listening again, following again. The Christian life is not one great moment of decision, but the repeated act of turning back toward the Good Shepherd.

And perhaps that is what worship really is, not simply what we do here on a Sunday morning, but the continual offering of our whole lives back to God. Returning again and again and placing ourselves in the Shepherd’s care.