May
7, 2006
TEXT:
John 10:11-18; Psalm 23
A
Sheep’s Tale
Why is it that we seem to outgrow the question,
"Why?" Why does it seem so mundane?
It falls so effortlessly and spontaneously from the mouths of children -
at times like a jackhammer on the head of a weary adult. "Why?" he asks about the color of
the sky or the number of legs on a spider or where the rain clouds live. "Why?" she asks about the bedtime
announced or the shape of the moon or the holes in a block of Swiss
cheese. "Why?" kids ask with
insatiable curiosity about this and that and everything and more. But, apart from challenging decisions with
which we don't agree, it's seldom the question of adults. I think it's a loss whose cost is seldom
calculated, and one of the more tragic casualties of growing up. Is it that we reach a point when we know all
we want, or is it, as I really suspect, that we just get busy - preoccupied
with other things?
Maybe because I'm just a five year old at heart, or maybe
because it's true, I believe "why" to be one of the most important
questions in life, and one that we can't afford to do without. The German philosopher Nietzche once said,
"The one who has a WHY to live for can bear with almost any HOW."[1] It is not, you see, good enough to simply do
things - even good ones. It’s
imperative, but also nourishing to understand why.
At stake, you see, is not simply understanding, but the
question of motivation as well - of what makes us tick; or why, on the other
hand, we don't. Why, for example, did
your mother have to remind you to kiss her goodbye, but you couldn't bear the
thought of leaving your date until you had?
Why does it take school kids ten minutes to evacuate the building for a
fire drill, but only three when it's time to go home? Why is it that I had to drag my kids out of
bed Monday through Friday when they were young, but they would beat the sun on
Saturday? Why is it that it's easy to go
to work on the 15th and 30th of each month, while on other days there are other
places we'd rather be? One action is the
same as the other; it's the motivation that changes the color.
WHY you do something, and HOW you do it are intimately
intertwined. “Take for example,” Jesus
says in the passage, “the shepherd to whom the sheep belong, and the hireling
who simply does the job. ‘This,’ says
the latter, ‘is what I'm paid to do, and so I'm out here doing it, at least
until something better comes along.’
There isn't much heart nor soul in work on those terms. There is neither passion nor conviction in
the effort. It's a job. An income.
It's something that has to be done, but only until the 5 'o clock bell
and then ‘Get out of my way; I'm gone.’”
You've
perhaps had employees like that; or sat in school in front of such a
teacher. You may be like that yourself
with regard to the particular job in front of you.
But perhaps you have been fortunate enough to employ someone
whose motivation was different - who was invested in the work to which they
were assigned. Hopefully you were taught
at some point by someone for whom teaching was their vocation; who would be in
that classroom whether they got paid to be there or not. I hope you have had the good fortune to be
touched by such grace, and to experience first hand the difference that it
makes. But then, come to think of it,
you have.
"I am the shepherd," Jesus says of himself; "I
take care of you because of love. I seek
you out and stay by your side by passion, not because of some pay." Unlike the hired hand, this good shepherd does
not turn and run at the first sign of danger or struggle, leaving the sheep to
their own devices. No, this shepherd
cares for his sheep. He knows us, one by
one by one - and we know him as well. He
plunges himself into our affairs even to the point of death. "Why?" we finally find words to
ask. Because more than simply his responsibility; we are simply his.
"The Lord is MY shepherd," that favorite psalm
affirms, "and because of it I shall not want. He makes ME lie down in green pastures; he
leads ME beside still waters." Do
you hear that intimately personal address?
He doesn't "herd us all down the meadow;" he "leads ME in
right paths." Each of us. One by one by one. "Even though I walk through the darkest
valley - filled with wolves of myriad description – I fear no evil for you are
with ME, speaking my name."
There once was a wise old shepherd who counseled "Don't
count the sheep or else they won't thrive." When the younger ones questioned his meaning,
he patiently told them that counting the sheep turned each live, unique animal
into something less - an abstraction, a symbol of a sheep; each one like the
next. When sheep become numbers, you
lose sight of them as individual sheep.
You fail to notice whether they look healthy, act normal, and in general
are becoming their best sheep selves. [2]
"I do not need to count you," Jesus says,
"because I know your name. I know
the sound of your voice, and if you listen, you will learn the sound of
mine. I will not run away when the
wolves of life attack. I will stay here
for you even unto death. Why? What could possibly be my motivation? It's simple:
It's not because I have to, it's because I want to. The truth of the matter is, I love you.
And if passionate, intimate concern is the source of his
motivation, surely receiving it is likewise the best source of ours. Evangelistic efforts need to maintain that
larger comprehension – that it’s not all about "what would motivate people
to join our church", but also – and perhaps more importantly – "what
motivates us to share the good news?"
If it’s not good news to us,
after all, why would we expect it to be for anyone else?
What we are continually remembering is that we are not trying
to sell people something for which they have no use. As evangelists, we are about the work of
"helping people find the Bread of Life - that precious commodity which
makes life not just better but different.
People have great gaping holes in their lives that cannot be healed with
anything except God, and when we lose sight of that we lose our motivation for
[sharing the word]." [3]
When we lose sight of who Christ is, we lose sight of why we
follow him. Let me make it plain.
Ø Do
not be a Christian just because your parents were.
Ø Do
not be a Christian because it's the public norm.
Ø Do
not be a Christian because you want your kids to be morally sound.
Ø Don't
even be a Christian because you want to change the world.
Ø Don't
be a Christian because you find among them good people.
Ø Do
not be a Christian because you're scared to death of hell.
Why, then, you ask as we return to where we
began? Why should we follow, if not for reasons
such as these? Be a Christian by
attraction, not repulsion, and even then attraction to one thing: Be a Christian because you have discovered
that priceless treasure of grace in Christ, and couldn't bear to live any more
without it. Be a Christian because you
have come to love one who first loved you, who lays his life down, and who
knows first hand your name.
"I am the good shepherd," he told us,
"watching over you because you're my own.
I know you and hear the bleating in your voice. You do not fall without my knowledge; even
the hairs of your head I've counted. I
know your needs and see the places where you bleed. I know the wolves that attack you. Look me in the eyes and trust what you
see: I will keep you - even lay down my
life to save you. Why? The answer's simple: It isn't because I have to; it's simply
because I love you.