E-mail Sermon April 13, 2008 - "Choosing Our Shepard"

Willapa United Methodist Church

Please pray with me. May the words of our mouths, the meditations of our hearts, and the conduct of our lives, be always acceptable to you, O God, our strength and our blessed redeemer. Amen.

I’ve asked Sue to help me with a little skit that illustrates the persistence of our Good Shepherd when it comes to protecting us and bringing us home. This skit is adapted from Darlene Swanson Malmo’s “Runaway Rabbit.”

Adult:   If you run away, I will find you. You are my little lamb.

Child:   If you come to find me, I will become a fish and swim away from you.

Adult:   If you become a fish, I will become a fisherman and reel you in.

Child:   If you reel me in like a fish, I will become a rock, way high on a mountain.

Adult:   If you become a rock, I will become a mountain climber and climb to where you are.

Child:   Then, I will become a rose and hide behind sharp, sharp thorns.

Adult:   If you become a rose, I will become a gardner and find you, even if you hide behind the thorns.

Child:   Then I will become a bird and fly, fly away.

Adult:   If you become a bird and fly away from me, I will become the tree that you come home to.

Child:   If you become the tree that I come home to, then I will become a boat and sail far, far away from you.

Adult:   If you become a boat, I will become a rudder and guide you to where it is safe.

Child:   Then I will become a circus performer and swing on a flying trapeze.

Adult:   If you are in the circus and flying on a trapeze, I will become the net that catches you when you jump or fall.

Child:   Then, if you are the net that catches me when I fall, I will become a little girl again and run into a house.

Adult:   If you become a little girl again and run into a house, I will become your father and you will be in my house and nothing will snatch you out of my hands.

Child: Let’s go find the other lambs. Baaaaa

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

That’s the way I learned the 23^rd Psalm, from my third-grade Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Harmon. From the “maketh’s”, the “yea’s”, and the “thou’s”, you can tell that we were using the original King James Version of the Bible. Today is Good Shepherd Sunday. It is always celebrated on the Fourth Sunday of Easter and the Psalm reading for this week is always Psalm 23. We often associate this comforting Psalm with funerals and memorial services, but the Hebrew words in verse 4 that we translate “valley of the shadow of death” may be more accurately translated as the “valley of deep darkness” and that makes this Psalm relevant for every day of our lives, not just the final days.

“Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. ²The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. ³The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. ⁴When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. ⁵They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.” ⁶Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them. ⁷So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. ⁸All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. ⁹I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. ¹⁰The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

We’re dog lovers and I know some of you are as well. Recently, Al and Susan Franks, and John and Jayme Peterson, went through the trauma of losing their dogs to illness. For dog lovers, losing your “best friend” is always hard. Our dogs become part of our family, additional “children” in many ways. Most of you have met Max, our miniature schnauzer; but before Max there was Loki, our keeshond, who grew up with our two boys, living to be seventeen years old. One time, Loki taught us a great lesson about listening for the right voice. I’m sure that I’ve told this story before, but it bears repeating.

Our house in Federal Way had a dog door in the garage wall for Loki. It led into a fenced in side yard. Loki could come and go as he pleased into the side yard. One afternoon, I came home to find the gate to the side yard open and Loki missing. I was very distraught. I didn’t know how long the gate had been open or how far Loki might have roamed. There was a busy street behind our house and a large wooded water catchment area behind the row of houses on the other side of that street. It was full of sticker bushes, almost an impenetrable jungle of snags and trees.

I called Sue and she came home from work immediately. We started in our cul-de-sac and worked our way out into the neighborhood, calling Loki’s name, first on foot and later in cars. We searched for hours, until the sun was going down, but no Loki. Finally, sad and tired we called off the search and tried to comfort one another – our Loki dog was gone.

You know how darkness brings quiet. Kids go inside for dinner, parents get home from work and off the roads, and quiet descends on the neighborhood. We had a patio and deck on the back of our house in Federal Way that overlooked the busy street and the wooded area and in the darkness, with tears streaming down my face, I wandered out onto the deck and cried, “Where are you Loki?” – praying for divine intervention. I knew Loki was out there somewhere, alone and frightened. Then I heard it, Loki’s bark. You may not think that you can tell one dog’s bark from another, but I’m here to tell you that you can!

I called again, “Loki!” and Loki barked again – weaker this time. I ran into the house for a flashlight, excitedly telling Sue that I had heard him. You see, the barking seemed to be coming from the wooded water catchment area. I ran across the street and right into our neighbors’ back yards, calling for Loki and waiting for his response. I remember thinking that our neighbors might call the police, thinking there was a crazy person prowling their back yards making dog noises. Slowly, I followed the sound of Loki’s bark to a steep bank where he had fallen into the sticker bushes. Keeshonds have a very thick coat of hair and Loki was so tangled up in those stickers that we had to use scissors to cut him loose.

My point is that Loki knew my voice and I knew his. In the afternoon there had been too much noise and busyness for us to hear each other, but in the “green pastures and still waters” of the night we were able to connect.

Surely fatigue and time pressure shall follow me all the days of my life.

Jesus said, “I am the Good Shepherd.” Our Resurrected Lord, walks the earth calling our names, but so often in our lives, we choose to listen to another voice. We listen to the voices of success, of career, of wealth, of friends, of school, of sports, and even of family and church. Christ’s voice is often drowned out by all the busyness and noise, isn’t it? Don’t wait until you are walking through a valley of deep darkness, pause and be still, and listen for the Good Shepherd. Choose Christ as your shepherd, he’s already chosen you!