Kent Crockett, in his book, I Once Was Blind, but Now I Squint includes A Pessimist's Commentary on Psalm 23. The author is listed as "Ima Whiner." It is admittedly a spoof. But it is a good way for us to begin our thinking about today's text.
The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want.
"Shall not want?" Says Ima Whiner. "Give me a break. I want lots of things. I'd like to have a nicer house, a better job, and a pay raise. I want people to do what I say when I say. And I wouldn't mind winning the lottery either. He
makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters.
"I have a problem with the words "makes me,'" says Whiner. "That sounds a bit legalistic to me. First you say I can't want things; now you're making me do things."
He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
"I don't want to be guided down the paths of righteousness. I prefer the more scenic routes. How about leading me to Hawaii for a change? What about Vegas? I'm getting a little tired of the paths of righteousness. The next thing you know, you'll be leading me through a dark valley."
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me.
"What am I doing walking through the valley of the shadow of death? I thought I was supposed to be lying down in green pastures. Did you take a wrong turn, or what? And you call yourself a Shepherd?"
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
"To tell you the truth, a rod and staff are not my idea of comfort. A rod and reel I'll take. A back massage would be even better. Skip the rod and staff."
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
"Great," says Whiner. "Out of all the restaurants in the world, you choose the one where my enemies like to eat. I'm sure I'll relish every bite of that meal!"
You have anointed my head with oil; My cup overflows.
"I don't want any oil on my head. I prefer shampoo. And for goodness sake, can't you stop pouring before my cup overflows? What kind of waiter are you anyway? How would you like to have hot coffee spilled all over your hand?"
Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
"I don't want to be confined to a house forever. That sounds like a prison. It might be nice to step outside once every thousand years or so. I never will understand," says Ima Whiner, "why so many people love the 23rd Psalm." (1)
It's interesting how many references there are in the scriptures to sheep and shepherds. Today's lesson from Luke's Gospel is among the best known:
"Which one of you," said Jesus, "having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.' Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance."
How beautiful. How touching. And also, how absurd. We've made this point before, but it is important. A much beloved gospel hymn goes like this: "There were ninety and nine who safely lay in the shelter of the fold . . ."
That's not how Jesus told his parable. "Which one of you," said Jesus, "having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?" He left them where? In the wilderness. This adds an edge to the story that we dare not miss. A hundred sheep is a good size flock. Surely this shepherd would not miss this one. But he does miss it. That sheep is valuable, so valuable that he will risk leaving his other ninety-nine in the wilderness where they are vulnerable to predators to find this one that has wandered off. So valuable that, when he gets home, "he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.'" That is one valuable sheep. But, of course, Jesus is not talking about sheep, at all. He's talking about you and me. "Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance." Where did he leave the ninety and nine? He left them in the wilderness.
Sheep are not too bright. It's said that sheep get lost by nibbling away at the grass and never looking up. People are like that. Have you ever been nibbling along one day, and all of a sudden you looked up and thought, "How did I get here?" Some middle-aged people and older say they have that problem quite often.
And sheep are born followers. They'll follow you anywhere.
Mary Alice Dyess of Phoenix, Arizona, wrote to Guideposts magazine with a story about her pet lamb, Beatrice. One day, Beatrice broke out of her pen and led the neighbor's sheep out of their field and toward a busy intersection. Mary Alice called for the sheep, but they continued trotting toward the street. In desperation, she suddenly yelled, "Baaaa!" at the top of her lungs. Beatrice stopped immediately, turned around, and came right back to her own field, with all the neighbor's sheep trailing meekly behind her. (2)
A new school teacher in a farming community in Texas asked her class, "If there were 12 sheep in a field and one jumped over the fence, how many would be left?"
One little fellow spoke up and said "None."
The teacher said, "You don't know arithmetic."
"No, ma'am," said the boy, "but I know sheep."
Sheep are followers. And sometimes they are not too wise about whom they choose to follow. Again, that reminds me of people.
Pastor Mike Milton of Savannah, GA tells about two photos that appeared together on the front page of a local newspaper, the Camden, Maine Herald. One photo was of the board of aldermen and the town manager huddled together at a meeting. The other photo was a flock of sheep. Unintentionally, the captions were reversed. Under the picture of the sheep, the caption identified them as the aldermen and town manager. Under the photo of the distinguished fathers of the community, the caption read like this: "The Sheep, naive and vulnerable, huddle for security against the uncertainties of the outside world." (3)
Let's face it, friends, you and I are oftentimes like sheep. We nibble ourselves into situations that are too big for us to handle. We follow the other sheep, sometimes unwisely. There we are-- "The Sheep, naive and vulnerable, huddle(d) for security against the uncertainties of the outside world." Does our Shepherd care? Yes, says Luke's gospel. He leaves the ninety and nine. Where? Out in the wilderness, to search for that one who has gone astray. What great good news.
A few months ago, according to People magazine, mechanical engineer Ed Adams got buried in an avalanche. A few weeks later, it happened again. And then again. Is Ed Adams just the unluckiest fellow around? No, he happens to be an avalanche researcher in Montana. Ed Adams places himself in a small shed on the side of a snowy mountain, then he has his assistants trigger the chain of events that will cause an avalanche. From within the raging mountain of snow, Adams measures a variety of factors so that researchers can better predict how and why an avalanche occurs. In his line of work, he has been buried alive twenty times. He deliberately places himself at risk so that his work can save the lives of others in similar situations.
I am glad for people like Ed Adams. He's willing to risk his life so that you and I will be safer. We must be pretty valuable people if someone like Ed Adams would go to that length to make life better for us. (4) But that's Ed's job. And he's dedicated to it. But Ed's risk in his work is limited. If he really thought he would die in one of these avalanches, doubtless he would not do it. Especially if he discovered that he was going to die for the sake of a bunch of dumb sheep. I mean, get real.
But listen. Here's the gospel. St. Paul writes in Romans 5: "For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person--though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us." (6-8) What an amazing thought. We matter so much to the Creator of this universe, that Christ gave himself in our behalf.
I read about a courageous man recently. Robert "Bobo" Bonadies was president of Connecticut Parachutists Inc. As president of this club he had conducted thousands of jumps from airplanes, and had instructed hundreds of students in the art of skydiving. He had a reputation for giving confidence to even the most timid students.
But in May 2002, one of his jumps went horribly wrong. Bonadies was jumping with a new student named Cindy Hyland. Hyland had successfully completed two jumps under Bonadies' guidance. But on this day, Hyland lost the rip cord to her parachute. To protect her, Robert Bonadies grabbed hold of Hyland and held on, stabilizing her so she could untangle her rip cord. He knew at some point that he would have to let her go if he were to save himself. With Bonadies' help, Hyland's parachute finally opened. But Robert Bonadies ran out of time. He died instantly in the fall.
In 2003, the Carnegie Hero Fund Commission named Robert Bonadies as a recipient of their Hero Award. Robert Bonadies knew the challenges and risks of skydiving. He knew the choice he was being asked to make. And when the time came, he chose to give his own life to save the life of another.
What do you do when you discover that someone has given his or her life to save you? Do you take it for granted? Do you say, "Ho, hum, what I do with my life doesn't matter?" Or do you get off somewhere by yourself for a few moments, and lift your face toward heaven and say, "Lord, I never thought my life was worth that much, that someone should die in my behalf. Help me somehow to be worthy."
How much does God love you? He left the ninety and nine. Where? In the wilderness. To find the one lost sheep that had gone astray.
1. Chattanooga, TN: AMG Publishers, 2004, pp. 34-35.
2. Mary Alice Dyess, "Bringing in the Sheep," Guideposts, May 2000, p.43.
3. Great Preaching 2001, edited by Michael Duduit and Jonathan Kever, The Preaching Library, Jackson, TN, 2000, p. 30.
4. "A Snow Job," January 12, 2004, p.86.
5. "Falling" by Lynn Rosellini, Reader's Digest, October 2003, pp. 104-109.