It is small wonder that the image of the shepherd was frequently upon the lips of the savior. It was a part of his heritage and culture. Abraham, the father of the nation, was the keeper of great flocks. Moses was tending the flocks of his father-in-law, Jethro, when God called him into a special service. David was a shepherd boy called in from the fields to be the King of Israel.

The imagery of the shepherd was also imprinted upon the literature of the day. The 23rd Psalm is frequently referred to as the shepherd psalm. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside still waters."

When Isaiah spoke of the coming of the Messiah he worded it by saying: "He will feed his flock like a shepherd! He will gather his lambs into his arms." Yes, the tradition of the shepherd was very much a part of the heritage of Christ.

This picture comes more clearly into focus in the New Testament. Jesus once told a story about a shepherd who had 100 sheep, but one of them went astray. In our way of thinking a 99% return on our investment would be most desirable, but not this shepherd. He left the 99 to go in search of that one lost sheep. Later, when Jesus was speaking to a great throng of people, Mark tells us that he had compassion upon them because they were "as sheep without a shepherd."

Throughout the Judeo-Christian faith, then, the image of the shepherd has been stamped upon our thinking. In our scripture text for this morning Jesus again taps into this imagery when he refers to himself as the good shepherd. For a few moments this morning, I would like for us to examine together what he had in mind when he described himself thus.

First, we have a shepherd that is a genuine shepherd. United Methodist Pastor Rev. Larry Daniel, a well-known writer of Civil War novels, tells a story on himself. He says, “I will never forget when I got my wife’s engagement ring. I had been saving up money from all of the marriages I had performed to buy an antique musket--an 1864 U. S. Springfield rifle--oh, it was beautiful. Instead I used the money to buy an engagement ring.” Greater love hath no man than that. But after I had bought the ring, I said to the jeweler--now, be honest with me. The deal is made. I can't back out of it. Can you really tell the difference between a real one carrot ring and some phony thing that I can buy off the shopper's channel on TV?

He said: come around here and look at this, I want to show you something. He put the light on two rings--the one I had just bought and a phony diamond. Then he gave me his jeweler's eyeglass. He said look at this cheap imitation and look at what you just bought and when I did I was amazed. My ring sparkled. The counterfeit was dull and had no luster.

Jesus said: now here are two shepherds. Outwardly there seems to be no difference. The skin of both has been bronzed by the sun and weathered by the wind. They both carry a fleece to keep them warm at night. Both carry a shepherd's crook. But one is a genuine shepherd and the other is a counterfeit. One is a shepherd in his heart; the other is a shepherd for hire.

On an ordinary day you could never tell them apart. But let trouble come. Let a pack of wolves appear and then the difference comes out. The counterfeit runs, because it is only money to him. He has no ownership. But the real shepherd stays. Jesus said in our text: I lay down my life for my sheep. That is the difference between the real shepherd and the counterfeit.

Here is the good news friends. I don't care how much trouble comes your way; the good shepherd will never leave your side. He will not desert you in times of trial. That is news that will let you get through the night; that is news that will enable you to keep your sanity.

Second, I think that the Good Shepherd knows his sheep. Sir George Adams Smith tells of being in the Holy Land many years ago. He saw several different flocks of sheep all huddled together at a watering hole. They all looked alike to him. It was simply a mass of white wool. He wondered how the shepherds would ever separate them out. At the appropriate time, however, each shepherd gave his own unique call, and in orderly fashion the sheep divided. Perhaps that is what the Good Shepherd meant when he said: I know my sheep and my sheep know me.

Bishop Edward Tullis used to tell the story of a particular census taker who went to a family to gather information. This was in the mountains and the family was quite poor. He asked the mother how many dependents she had. She began, well there is Rosalie, and Billy, and Lewella, our dog Willie. The census taker interrupted her and said: No ma’am that is not necessary. I just need humans.

Oh, she said. Well, there is Rosalie, and Billy, and Lewella. Rather exasperated, the census taker interrupted her again and said:

No ma’am, you don't seem to understand. I don't need their names I just need numbers. The mother innocently replied: But I don't know them by numbers. I only know them by names.

It strikes me as a rather comforting thought that the great creator of the cosmos knows me by name. He knows my situation. Oh, I know that there are those who scoff that the Great Prime Mover of the universe could also be a caring shepherd. But I simply look to the words of the Good Shepherd: I know my sheep.

About a year ago a murder took place in a small Mississippi town. The neighbors who were interviewed on the news were all shocked. It seems impossible to us that the husband did it they all said. We knew these people. We knew what was going on in their lives. You see, that is the difference between God and us. God knows. We only think that we know.

Jesus said: My sheep know me. The question is: are we attuned to God's special whisper. I suppose all of us have seen the painting done in the 1930's of a dog, looking with a cocked head, at an old RCA phonograph. The name of the painting is the Master's voice. I know that in my life I have not always recognized my master's voice. I have been too busy, too preoccupied, too self-centered. Sometimes, frankly, I am afraid to hear his voice; for I know that he will say what I may not want to hear. But I know that it is important for me to hear once again the words of the Good Shepherd: I know my sheep, and my sheep know me.

The Good Shepherd also includes other sheep. Jesus said: I have other sheep too, and they are not of this fold. I must bring them in also.

Now here is the question for this morning. What is an oxymoron? An oxymoron is a combination of contradictory terms, seemingly canceling each other out. For example: bittersweet, jumbo-shrimp, authentic-reproduction, University of Memphis Football, House ethics committee.

Let me give you another. Good shepherd. Certainly to the modern ear there is nothing contradictory about that, until we learn that in the ancient world shepherding was really not considered the romantic, humble occupation that we think of it today. Shepherds were looked upon often as gypsies are looked upon in some parts of Europe today. They were dirty, thieves. So despised were shepherds that under Jewish law, a shepherd could not be a witness in a trial. They were notorious liars.

Just when we think we’ve got shepherds figured out, Jesus throws us for a loop and uses the term good shepherd. You see, in God's flock, there are going to be so many people that you did not expect. There are some people who are not of my fold (and of course he is speaking of the gentiles) and I must bring them in too. This shepherd is an inclusive shepherd.

In John Drinkwater's historical drama Abraham Lincoln, a woman says to Lincoln: Mr. President, have you heard the good news? In the latest battle we suffered 800 casualties and the enemy 2700. How splendid."  

“Splendid,” replied Lincoln, “that 3500 souls are lost?” Oh, Mr. President, she said, you must not look at it in that way. Only 800 of them counted. Replies Lincoln: “Madam, the world is much bigger than your heart.” We have a Good Shepherd who is inclusive.

The good shepherd also sacrifices. Jesus worded it this way: The shepherd lays down his life for his sheep. Lay down your life for a worthless animal!? It hardly seems reasonable. That is, until we remember that we are the sheep that he is talking about. We are the worthless ones. It is called atonement--the shedding of one's blood on behalf of another who doesn't deserve it.

Nicholas Bredyaev, who abandoned Marxism for Christianity, insisted that it was not theology, or history, nor the church that caused his conversion. He was present at a concentration camp in Nazi Germany when the Nazis were killing Jews in the gas chambers. One distraught mother, whose first name was Maria, saw that the officer in charge, Bredyaev, was really only interested in numbers. So without a single word Maria was pulled aside by an unknown woman who took her place. So powerful was that image that it turned Bredyaev toward the Christ who sacrificed his life for all humanity.

The good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep. You don't have a life worth living for if you don't have a cause worth dying for. If we are to follow the shepherding model as laid down by Christ, then sacrifice must be a part of our faith. It means that the church must now lay down her life for a worthless and undeserving society.

It is not enough that we simply remain sheep. Christ is calling us into the roll of shepherd. Jesus asked Simon Peter one day: Peter, do you love me? Lord, he said, you know that I do love you. Then, came the reply, feed my sheep. If we are to be faithful, there is no alternative. Amen.