Jesus is the Good Shepherd - John 10: 11-18, Psalm 23

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Before he was a king, David was a shepherd boy. The youngest of the brothers, the task fell to him when his brothers went off to their own homes. But he took his job as shepherd just as serious as the brothers who went to fight in Saul’s army against the Philistines. When asked, David told about how he defended the flocks against lions and bears that roamed the Judean hillsides, protecting the helpless sheep against predators with his staff, his sling, and his bare hands if necessary. They were the family sheep – known by name, cared for by hand. They were entrusted to him, and it was his job to protect them, no matter the cost – even up to and including his own life.

We think of sheep and shepherds with romantic gentility. We think of lush green grass, rolling hills, babbling streams, gently bleating, soft fuzzy sheep, and the noble, muscular, vigilant shepherd. If you have that kind of picture in your mind right now, this is described as a pastorale scene.

When Jesus speaks of Himself as the Good Shepherd, the people nearby would have thought of King David and remembered his 23^rd Psalm, “The Lord is my shepherd.” An interesting thing happens in the 23^rd Psalm; did you catch it? David, the shepherd-king becomes the sheep who is willing to humbly sit at the foot of the one who is His Shepherd, God Almighty. So, when Jesus speaks of Himself as the Good Shepherd, He is identifying Himself as the One whom David worshipped.

“I am the Good Shepherd.” Jesus wants you to see Him as Messiah. “I am” front-loads His statement, connecting Jesus with Yahweh of the burning bush: “I am who I am… Tell them ‘I am’ has sent you.” It was a theophany to Moses, a revelation to ancient Israel, and to the people standing around Jesus it was an eye opener. It’s as if Jesus is saying, “The God whom you have worshipped in the Law and the Prophets – that is me, and here I am, standing among you as God’s shepherd.”

And, it places Jesus firmly in stark contrast to shepherds who are not good. By the time of the prophets, just a few generations after King David, the religious leaders of the people were so corrupt, so against the very word of God that the Lord Himself calls them “stupid shepherds.” The priests, Levites, and others were called by God to be His faithful servants, proclaiming His Word in fullness, living faithfully, and demonstrating mercy and compassion to the least. Instead, they were leading the people into damnation. “Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture,” the Lord said through Jeremiah (23:1). “You have scattered my flock and have driven them away, and you have not attended to them. Behold, I will attend to you for your evil deeds, declares the Lord” (v. 2-3). Likewise, Ezekiel thunders against the shepherds of Israel. “The weak you have not strengthened, the sick you have not healed, the injured you have not bound up, the strayed you have not brought back, the lost you have not sought, and with force and harshness you have ruled them,” (34:4). So, God promised He Himself would seek out His sheep. “I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep…declares the Lord God. I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, and the fat and the strong I will destroy” (v. 15-16).

God fulfills His promises to be Israel’s shepherd. Not a hireling, but one who knows and loves His people, His sheep, as His own. “I know my sheep and my sheep know me,” Jesus said. Our western idea of raising animals, for the most part, is a far cry from the ancient world in both distance and in time. Here in Texas, we think of the cowboy sitting astride his horse, looking over his herd of livestock. Change the picture. Think of a shepherd who walks among his sheep, just a few dozen of them, down on their level, treating them more like family pets than mere animals. He walks up to each one, speaking its name, rubbing his hands through their wool, feeling for stickers or bugs, for wounds or sores. If he finds something out of place, he removes it. If there is a wound he treats it.

In the 23^rd Psalm, you know the phrase, “He anoints my head with oil.” In the Old Testament, priests and kings were anointed with oil. It was a marking of their being chosen, set apart, for holy service among God’s people. This is different. Philip Keller, in his book, A Shepherd Looks at the 23^rd Psalm, describes what this means for us westerners. There is a particular fly in the middle east that loves to lay its eggs in open sores. Those eggs become worms which dig into the flesh, literally driving the sheep crazy. They’ll do anything to stop the terrible discomfort of the worms. The shepherd takes the oil and pours it over the sheep’s head and body, sealing off the wounds so that the flies cannot lay their eggs. To calm the sheep, the shepherd grabs the sheep, gently, by the ears and gets down on their level, speaking face-to-face with the sheep. The sheep hears the voice, sees the face, and knows the shepherd’s care.

Earlier, I said that a scene of green grass, lush hills, and a babbling creek is called a pastorale scene. Now, change the picture. Picture a hillside, but one that is stark, rocky, and terrifying. There are no softly baaing sheep; rather, screams of pain and agony matched by laughter and mocking. Instead of a stream of water, there are rivulets of blood dripping from the head, hands, and feet of a shepherd who is slowly and painfully dying. This is a different kind of pastorale scene. Jesus is God’s Shepherd. Jesus is the Good Shepherd. He’s a suffering shepherd. The sheep are His own; He is not a hireling, so He surrenders His own life at the cross for them. He is the dying and rising shepherd.

This is what makes the picture so wonderful – not the hard-working shepherd, but the life-laying-down shepherd. He lays down His life for His beloved whom He knows by name – His name. He dies to rescue, to redeem, to save the Church. When night fell on Good Friday, and when He breathed His last, He is buried in the valley of the shadow of death. Think of the grave as the doorway. He’s a dying shepherd, laying down his life for the sheep in the doorway of death, but He is also the rising shepherd who takes it up again, rising in the morning of the resurrection to lead His sheep into the new pastures of new life. In His resurrection, the Shepherd anoints us with His blood, shed for our forgiveness to rescue us from death. Covered in Christ’s righteousness, our guilt, which would otherwise drive us to despair, is soothed. Satan’s power is destroyed.

Now, finish the pastorale scene: our Good Shepherd is the living, resurrected shepherd. We are the people of His pasture, the sheep of His hand. We follow the voice of the Good Shepherd. To strengthen us in our following, the Shepherd prepares a table before us and feeds us with His own body to eat, living Bread which comes from heaven, and His own blood, wine from heaven that gives joy and life. His voice is heard through the voice of His under-shepherds, His pastors, whom He calls to both follow Him and to guide His people. `The sheep - you, His people - need to listen carefully to ensure what you hear coming from the voice of the under-shepherd is the words of the Good Shepherd.

Life under Good Shepherd Jesus isn’t necessarily easy, or happy, or free of pain and trouble. We have no special immunity from disease, doubt, depression. We have no monopoly on miracles. We all must walk through that dark valley of shadow of death, with its steep, threatening cliffs surrounding us. There are no exceptions. But you needn’t fear any evil. Good Shepherd Jesus has gone ahead of you, and He is with you.  

There are two things you can be sure of. Goodness and mercy will follow you like a couple of sheep dogs all the days of your life. There will never be a day that goes by, whether good or bad, when goodness and mercy won’t be yapping at your heels, reminding you that you are forgiven, you are died for, you are a sheep in the flock of the Good Shepherd.

And of this you can be certain, as certain as crucified Jesus is risen from the dead, lives and reigns to all eternity: Baptized in Him, trusting Him, you will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

The Lord Jesus is your shepherd, you lack nothing.

Jesus Fills Troubled Hands with Peace - Luke 24:36-49

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

“Why are you troubled?” The disciples were afraid – it was Easter and they were not yet comprehending what had all happened. They could remember Jesus’ arrest late Maundy Thursday; they lived through the terror of Jesus’ trial and crucifixion on Good Friday; they saw His burial late that evening. Their Lord, their Savior, their Master – He was dead, killed at the hands of jealous religious, civil and political leaders. This was the Man whom they left everything behind so they could follow Him. What was going to happen to them? That was reason enough to be afraid – I doubt that listing “Disciple of Jesus” on a resume would get them very far in the world. For that matter, perhaps the same people who put Jesus to death were now conspiring to capture the disciples – pick them off one by one – and nip these Christ followers in the bud before they go much further.

How about you - “Why are you troubled?” Your troubles can be ridiculously complicated or terrifyingly simple. Troubles can be tangible where you can literally touch it, or it can be nebulous, as difficult to nail down as jello. Do you get vaccinated or not? We watch our children and grandchildren struggle as kids tease them or they deal with the stress of school. For others, it’s that our spouse works at a job they don’t like or where co-workers are unpleasant and difficult to work with. There’s financial troubles, trying to stretch the dollar as far as possible until payday. There’s the enigmatic message from the doctor about blood tests being slightly off and wanting to re-test in a few days, and there’s that odd spot on your shoulder that you noticed in the shower.  The car needs new brakes, your neighbor killed a snake longer than she is tall, your boss wants the reports tomorrow morning and you know he won’t be happy with the numbers, the arthritis in your knees is terrible this morning, things are getting pretty dry already, gas is up, corn is down, and your blood pressure is all over the place. Oh, yes friends, there’s trouble here in River City.

It’s enough to make anyone, even the most faithful Christian, feel like the weight of the world is weighing us down. Our troubles burden our minds and hearts, traveling down our shoulders and arms to our hands. Personally, I’m a hand-wringer and a chin-rubber. We work our hands in angst and fear and worry as we grab at straws to try to ease our trouble. And, try as we might, our hands are incapable of untying the knots that reside in our stomachs. The straws we grasp for break as we try to hold on tightly to those things that we think might provide comfort. No matter how we pull, prod, poke, or push the trouble just won’t go away. If anything, they seem to grow even more burdensome, more troublesome.

“Why are you troubled?” Jesus asked His disciples. “Why do doubts arise in your hearts?” It’s a call to repentance for the eleven. He shows them His nail marked hands. It’s as if He is saying, I have taken all of your troubles and worries to the cross so you no longer have to carry them yourself. Your sins, your fears, your worries – they have all been taken from your hands and placed into mine. And so you know that they are no longer yours to worry about, look at my hands…look at my feet. I paid the release-price for your troublesome burdens; why would you want to take them up again? I buried the burdens and troubles of your body, soul and mind with me in the grave and when I rose, I did not bring them back to life with me.

Ah, yes – the resurrection. Spirits don’t eat fish; people – living people - eat fish. Flesh and blood needs to eat. Where the Lord’s Supper is in declaration of His death, Jesus’s eating is a demonstration of His resurrection. Where does the resurrection lead? Back to the Word. “Thus it is written,” Jesus declares, and turning the disciples back to the Law and Prophets and Psalms. We call it the Old Testament; they simply call it the Scriptures. There, in the Scriptures, He reminds them of what He taught them during the past three years: “that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in His name to all nations.”

Let me ask you again: “Why are you troubled?” Look at your hands. What weight were you carrying in your hands when you came to the Lord’s House this morning? I’ll bet most of you are holding your hands like this, palm up. That’s a position of carrying, isn’t it? Stop trying to carry it all. Turn your hands over. Dump the load out here at the foot of the cross. Stop looking at your own hands, and instead turn your eyes to the hands of the One who carried all of your troubles and burdens. Over here is the stained glass window showing the Resurrected Jesus with His hands held out in blessing – those hands that were nailed to the cross because He refused to turn loose of your burdens. He held on to all of your troubles, saying to each of you, “You get this back over my dead body.” Why would you want to pick it up again?

When you are troubled, repent – confess your troubles – and turn back to the Word. “Thus says the Lord,” remember? Open your Bibles and place them in your hands. Read the promises of God for you when you feel worried and burdened. If you need a place to start, use the Psalms. The book of Psalms is called the prayer book of the Bible. You’ll be amazed at the prayers of God’s people of old, struggling with their own troubles, and responding to the Word of the Lord spoken to them – and to you. “Thus says the Lord:”

Psalm 34: 15-18 - The eyes of the Lord are toward the righteous and his ears toward their cry… ¹⁷ When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. ¹⁸ The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.

Psalm 50:15 – “Call upon me in the day of trouble and I will deliver you and you will glorify me.”

Psalm 139: 9-10 - If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, ¹⁰ even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.

The troubles are still there – God does not magically make them disappear. What He does do, though, is help you see these things through the lens of the cross so that you no longer focus on them but on Him.

And - here is the remarkable thing – when you stop focusing on your hands and see the hands of Jesus instead, in Christ, your hands are now free to help your neighbor carry his or her burdens. You don’t need permission, or training, or certification to help a neighbor.  Your neighbor whose flowerbeds are overgrown with weeds? Check for copperheads first, and then go weed a flowerbed. Your co-worker whose husband is fighting cancer? Make dinner for them, and – if they are up to it – visit a little bit so they know they’re not alone in the struggle. The kid at school who gets picked on? Bring a friend with you and eat your lunches with that kid. The widow or widower who rarely leaves the house? Invite him or her over for coffee. Christ’s Kitchen, VCAM, Ladles of Love, tacking quilts, a warm hello, making phone calls, writing notes and sending them in the mail – the list is almost endless of ways you can use your hands to share the love of Christ with others.

And, what you discover, as you show the love of Christ by helping with someone else’s troubles, the Lord works in your service to help release your own troubles.

I Know My Redeemer Lives! - Mark 16:1-8

Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
We are risen! We are risen, indeed! Alleluia!

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

We have again heard the Easter narrative with all its joy, with all its excitement. Mark’s Easter story is short and condensed compared to the other Evangelists, but it is still rich with Good News. We have seen the three women and, with them, saw the rolled-back stone and heard the angels with their Easter Proclamation, “He has risen, He is not here.” As Easter people, we have responded, “He has risen, indeed! Alleluia!” Our hearts are full with Easter joy!

And then we get to the last verse of Mark 16, verse 8, and it reads, “and they were afraid.” Did you feel the air rush out of your sails? Does that leave you just a little bit displeased this Easter morning? Does that put you at unease that here we are with great joy, great excitement, great anticipation, but the women are left with fear? 

Put yourself in their shoes. They were afraid of what was going to happen to them with their Master gone. Perhaps the Jews were looking for them at that very minute. Were they next? Or perhaps they had set a trap for any of Jesus followers who went to the tomb. Maybe they were afraid of what might have happened to Jesus’ body. Did someone steal it? Or, was it all just a giant misunderstanding? Was it the greatest hoax of all time from the One who promised that if he were destroyed, three days later he would be raised again? Was it all just a giant scam that they all misunderstood on many, many levels?

Lest anyone think I am badmouthing Mary Magdalene, or Mary the mother of James, or Salome, I assure you – the men, the disciples, the Eleven were no better. They had not yet figured all of this out, either. All were slow to believe, slow to understand, slow to grasp the events of the past week – from Jesus’ entrance into the Holy City on Palm Sunday, to the upper room on Thursday, to the cross on Friday, to the grave on Saturday, to the empty tomb on Sunday, they could not, would not, did not understand any of it. All they knew is that their Master had died a shameful, terrible death.  Even on the first day of the week, an 8^th day new beginning, the Third Day since death, on resurrection day, they were still struggling, unable to connect the Scriptures together, unable to believe Jesus’ words and promises. The plain words Jesus used over the previous few weeks, how He must suffer and die at the hands of the chief priests and the teachers of the Law, those words were forgotten and disbelieved. His resurrection promises, that He would be raised on the third day, all were hollow words, as empty as the grave they stood in front of. Even seeing it, they could not believe it.

We know – we have the wonderful benefit of 20/20 vision through the lens of the Scriptures. We know, believe and trust what they did not yet know, could not yet believe, would not yet trust that first Easter. On this Easter morning, as we hear the gospel of Christ, the good news that death and the grave in Satan himself have all been defeated, there is joy. We know the story. We know the narrative that on this morning 2000 and some years ago Christ who was crucified, died, and was buried, this same Christ Jesus is raised from the dead and lives and breathes again. His resurrection was not a joke, a scam, the mother of all falsehoods. The angel spoke truthfully, proclaiming Good News. Jesus’ resurrection was as true and truthful as life itself because He who is the resurrection and the life died and is raised! He who raised Lazarus from the dead is Himself raised from the dead! He who was the first fruits of all of the dead, He is also the first born from the grave, restored to life!

During Lent, we heard the story of Job, his stubborn defense of his own innocence and his faith in the promises of a silent God. At the tomb of Jesus, the confidence of Job comes to its fruitition: I know that my redeemer lives! Regardless what Job’s eyes have seen, what his body has felt, what his friends have said, what his own wife told him, Job clings to the promises of God. He knows who God is: a redeemer who will rescue, redeem and save. Not a godly figurehead, not a divinely distanced god, not a god who is kicking back to watch the show, but a God who takes on flesh to step into Job’s own suffering, taking His place, trading His own innocence for Job’s misery. Yet, not a dead God, but a living God. Job confessed it: I know my redeemer lives: My redeemer king will rescue and redeem me. When we stand in Job’s place, when Job’s sufferings and difficulties and terrors are dumped on us, we are able to echo his own confession of faith, I know my redeemer lives!

But there is something that happens to us, even faithful, faith-filled Christians when we stand outside the grave, whether it is ours that seems to loom on the horizon, or at the grave of a loved one. Death is the last great enemy to be conquered (1 Cor. 15:26). There is what we know of the resurrection, that in Christ we shall be raised, but then there is what we see with our eyes and the grave is so...dead. Seeing is believing…except when it isn’t. And, like Mary and Mary and Salome and the Eleven, when we stand facing that enemy, there is fear. I’ve stood at the grave in my vocation as a son and as a pastor. I’ve stood with other sons and fathers and daughters and mothers who have laid their loved ones to rest. It is daunting and frightening to stand there in front of the grave – not because we don’t believe, but because life is being turned upside down.

But remember: you never stand at the grave alone. As God’s children, first we stand with God’s messengers. These aren’t angels but pastors, sent by God to proclaim the resurrection to us. And God is not silent, as He was to Job. God speaks. He speaks and says that His Son died for the sins of the world; that Christ suffered so that God’s people will not endure God’s wrath; He died alone so that we will never be separated from the love of God. Jesus is the redeemer. He redeemed Job from the pit. He redeemed us, He bought us, with His own suffering and death, paid in full by His blood. The resurrection stands as proof that the Father accepted His Son’s redemptive sacrifice for us. His grave was opened at Easter. You do not stand alone at the grave. Christ stands with you, present in Word and Sacrament, with His Baptismal promise that you have already died with Him and have been raised with Him.

Easter makes us stand outside the tomb with the women and the disciples. On the one hand, we are not afraid because we kniw that Christ's resurrection is a foreshadowing id our own resurrection. We have already died with Christ and been buried with Christ through Baptism, and we have been raised to new life as well through Water and Word. That grave is as defeated an enemy as can be.

But we don’t just stand outside the tomb with the disciples. We stand outside the tomb with Jesus. He is not there, remember? Do not be alarmed; do not be afraid. He is risen as He said.

Marge was a war bride. She met her husband, an American soldier, when his unit was in Greece. She came back to the States, married him, and made a house into a home while learning English. They had a daughter who later married and had two girls of her own. Grandkids came along. Although she mastered English, Marge’s native language Greek would occasionally slip out when she got excited or irritated. But it always was used on Easter Sunday with great joy. “Christos Anesti,” she would exclaim – Christ is risen! She taught her family the reply, “Althios anesti!” – Indeed, He is risen! I met Marge when I was in college, and years later I became her pastor. By then, Alzheimers was starting to rob her of some memories. She would forget little things, which soon became bigger and bigger things. The last Easter I saw her, in 2008, she seemed a little lost, but when she got to church, she still called out “Christos anesti!” I joined with her, “Alithos anesti!”

I don’t know if she confessed the Creed that day. I don’t know how much she grasped, or of what she understood, how much she remembered. It was one of the last times I placed into her hands the body and blood of Christ, and I remember her receiving it with a quiet but firm “Amen.”

But as age and illness robbed her of those words and those spoken confessions, Christ’s promises for Marge never changed. Faith doesn’t need to be explained to be alive and active. As surely as an infant, by the power of the Holy Spirit believes, so also an elderly saint, by the same Holy Spirit, clings to faith. And nothing, not even dementia, is able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Christ has destroyed death with His death; His empty Good Friday cross and open Easter grave stands as visible promises of our own death-to-life story. Baptized into Christ’s death and resurrection, Marge received the full adoption of God as His dearly beloved daughter. God does not abandon His promises or His children.  

And, when Marge fell asleep in Christ last summer in her nursing home bed, she was not alone. Surrounded by angels and archangels, with the entire hosts of heaven, our Lord brought Marge from her own Job-like struggles to her eternal rest. On a hot, July morning, with the family, we gathered at the side of the open grave to lay mother, grandmother, and friend to rest.

It was a little scary – yes, even for me. The grave does that to us. It humbles us and reminds us of our mortality. That’s what we see.  But, there is also what we know: I know my redeemer lives! The grave has been defeated by Jesus’ own open grave. So, together, we again spoke the Easter promise that Marge taught her family and me one more time, “Christos Aneste! Alithos, Aneste!” And, there, with us next to that grave, was the resurrected Jesus.

Because Christ is risen. He is risen, indeed!
We are risen. We are risen, indeed! Alleluia.