Here is a version of the 23rd Psalm that ought to be mandatory reading each day of Advent, and a unison reading each Advent Sunday.

The lord is my pace setter . . .I shall not rush
He makes me stop for quiet intervals
He provides me with images of stillness which restore my serenity
He leads me in the way of efficiency through calmness of mind and his guidance is peace
Even though I have a great many things to accomplish each day, I will not fret, for his presence is here
His timelessness, his all importance will keep me in balance
He prepares refreshment and renewal in the midst of my activity by anointing my mind with his oils of tranquility
My cup of joyous energy overflows
Truly harmony and effectiveness shall be the fruits of my hours for I shall walk in the Pace of my Lord and dwell in his house for ever.

During World War II, the English government knew that Hitler was planning to invade the British Islands. They encouraged their people to prepare for the invasion and they did several things: they boasted their defenses, they put guards on constant watch, and they developed early warning systems and evacuation routes.

They did one more thing - the government passed a law requiring every community to take down all the road signs and any sign that named any town or village. They knew the Germans had maps of England, but if they couldn't locate themselves on those maps, they would be slowed in their progress as they approached London. Without any sign or any point of reference, the troops would just wander aimlessly around.

The world does that to us. It takes our roads signs away. And we live our lives lost; not knowing where we are and don't know how to get to where we need to go, so husbands and wives will wander away from their marriages. Children will wander away from their parents. People will walk off cliffs of drugs, alcohol, or materialism. Sheep need guidance. We need direction and leadership.

That is the job of the shepherd. What is the second verse in the twenty-third Psalm? "He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters."

The following parody was written by two Englishmen after converting to Christianity from Communism.

The Socialist’s 23rd Psalm

The Government is my shepherd,
Therefore, I need not work.
It allows me to lie down on a good job;
It leads me beside still factories.
It destroys my initiative;
It leads me in the path of a parasite for politics’ sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of laziness and deficit spending,
I fear no evil; for the Government is with me.
It preparest an economic Utopia for me;
By appropriating the earnings of my own grandchildren.
It fills my head with false security;
My inefficiency runneth over.
Surely the Government should care for me all the days of my life;
And I shall live in a fool’s paradise, forever.

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 as the Good Shepherd.

1. First, we have a shepherd that is a genuine shepherd.
2. Second, I think that the Good Shepherd knows his sheep.
3. Third, the Good Shepherd also includes other sheep.
4. Fourth, the shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.

Now if I had to nominate one animal to represent the word mediocre, a sheep would easily be in the top five. Sheep are not independent. They cannot defend themselves like cattle. They are not strong, creative, brave nor will they initiate. They cannot even work up a good stampede. Normally, they just sort of meander. Also, sheep will not be driven, like cattle. They will scatter in a thousand different directions. This type of behavior did not earn the animal any respect on the open range so the ranchers assumed that the animal was dumb. However, a sheep is actually smarter than a cow.

So why does Jesus choose to use a sheep to represent his disciples? Even in ancient society, sheep and shepherds did not garner the respect and admiration of the rich and famous. They did not have a contest to see which shepherd would be the next "Israeli Idol." For us who do not live in an agrarian society, it is even harder to understand. I have never identified myself with a sheep. Popular artists write songs about soaring on the wings of eagles, not grazing with the lambs.

Sheep have one particularly admirable quality. They will follow their shepherd wherever he leads them. They have learned to know him and trust him. They are not easily distracted by another shepherd. Move three flocks into a field, place three shepherds at three strategic points and have each of them issue a call. The sheep will sort themselves. You will not need brands to recognize which sheep belongs to which shepherd. Every animal will only follow his/her shepherd.

The people of God have been placed in a very large field that is often called the world. Many voices are calling us to come and join them. The voice of materialism wants us to deny our faith in the supernatural and believe only in the physical world. The voice of consumerism calls us to fulfill our envy by overspending on vacations, cars, clothing and a home. The voice of entertainment wants to fill our lives with media driven flashes that grab our attention, isolate us from our family and friends and then leave us with nothing but an oversized bill.

Sam Duncan lay in the semi-darkness of his nursing home room performing the only two activities of which he still considered himself capable: watching and waiting. Although his eyesight was dim, he could still make out the steady brightening of the light of dawn through the window next to his bed. And although his hearing was too far gone to catch the rumble of the medicine cart, as it worked its way up the hall toward his room, he could sense that the time for his morning pills was near. He waited for the nurse to push open the door and greet him and his roommate Arthur, who was still snoring loudly in the bed next to his.

Most of the accepted measures of quality of human existence no longer affected Sam. While time, in terms of years, seemed to slip away unnoticed, the hours of the day crept by in agonizing slowness. Time no longer meant anything to him. Schedules all belonged to the nurses and aides and family members who waited on him. He himself had no claim to time. The staff dieticians and cooks decided what he would eat, and when. The aides assigned to care for him on any given day decided when he would be bathed, dressed, shaved, and even toileted. His family decided what clothes he needed, what treats to bring to him, and when he should go out. The activity director decided when he needed exercise, stimulation and entertainment, and he was delivered into her hands by the aides upon request.

There were few days when Sam could tell you what had occurred the day before, or even the hour before. He had little memory for what he had eaten for dinner Tuesday or breakfast Saturday. He seldom knew the day of the week or the correct month, although seasons were still instinctively evident. The minutia of every day had ceased to have meaning for him even before his nursing home days had begun ten years earlier, and he felt no concern or remorse over loss of interest in such trivia. But if you asked him if he remembered Pearl Harbor, or the day Franklin Roosevelt died, or what he was doing the day JFK was assassinated, he could tell you with detailed clarity what had gone on. He recalled vividly his wedding day, the day he and Martha buried their firstborn infant son, the details of the funeral of his grandson Sam who was killed in Vietnam, and what the weather was like on the day Martha died.

Sam also remembered the friends who had been most dear to him. They had all been gone for many years: Boots Martin, who had served with him in Germany in WW I; Alvy Hankins, who had gone to school with him and farmed outside of town; Dick Travis, who had been his business partner for nearly forty years ... all dead and buried long ago. It hadn't seemed unnatural that he had outlived them all, just part of life. But when he had outlived all of his children, the burden of life had become heavy, cumbersome. And now, at 102, it was nearly unbearable.

Sam had never been a complainer. Life was what it was. He didn't second-guess nature or the Creator. When he and Martha lost that first baby son, they had grieved and comforted one another, and eventually gone on with their lives. And God had blessed them with six healthy children who had survived well into old age. The death and destruction he had seen in the trenches during "the war to end all wars" was etched in his memory for all time, and yet he had survived it, both physically and emotionally. But when his grandson, young Samuel Wilks Duncan III, had been killed in Vietnam at the tender age of nineteen, it had taken much prayer and effort to overcome his sense of anger and grief. And when Martha died in 1989, at the ripe old age of ninety, and his own heart beat on strong and steady, even though he knew it was broken, he had shaken a mental fist at God and demanded to know why. Why must he be left to bear the burdens of life alone? At 93, why couldn't he go home, too?

That had been ten years ago. Ten years of slowly declining health, gradual loss of sight, hearing, movement and body function. Ten years of being taken here and there, regardless of his own wishes, by those whose job it was to provide him with comfort, stimulation, and quality of life. His grandchildren became so busy with their own lives that they seldom visited. And when his last surviving daughter had died of cancer last year at the age of 75, Sam couldn't help but wonder if God was allowing him to be put to the test, as he did Job. He felt very keenly the truth of Jesus' words in the Gospel of John:

... when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.

And so Sam had formed a mental list of Psalms from which to pray in all of his various moods:

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all day long? -- Psalm 13:1-2

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? Oh my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest.  -- Psalm 22:1-2

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff -- they comfort me. -- Psalm 23:4

As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. -- Psalm 42:1

Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength is spent. For my enemies speak concerning me, and those who watch for my life consult together. -- Psalm 71:9-10

Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name. For his anger is but for a moment; his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning. -- Psalm 30:4-5

Joy comes with the morning ... Sam's litany came to an end as the nurse pushed through the door with the medications.

"Good morning, Sam. Wake up, Arthur! It's time for your pills. It's a special day, Sam. Do you remember what day it is?"

"I don't know. Tuesday, maybe?"

"No, Saturday. You're going to have a lot of company today. This is your birthday, Sam. Do you remember how old you are today."

"I guess I'd be about 103."

"That's right. One hundred and three years old. Everyone is coming for your birthday party today. All of your grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and I've heard you even have a couple of great-great grandsons."

"I think they even named one of them after me."

"Well, April will be in in another hour or so to give you your breakfast and bath. When you're all dressed and ready, we'll take some pictures with all of your friends. Happy Birthday, Sam!"

One hundred and three. As he swallowed his pills, Sam's mind drifted back to the lighthearted days of his youth, when he and his friends used to say things like, "I'll never understand that if I live to be a hundred." Things don't really change, Sam thought. I've lived to be more than a hundred, and there are so many things I still don't understand. "Do not cast me off in the time of old age." "Weeping may linger with the night, but joy comes in the morning." Sam sighed and laid back to watch and wait.

Please see the note below this illustration.

A woman visiting in Switzerland came to a sheepfold on one of her daily walks. Venturing in, she saw the shepherd seated on the ground with his flock around him. Nearby, on a pile of straw lay a single sheep, which seemed to be suffering. Looking closely, the woman saw that its leg was broken.

Her sympathy went out to the suffering sheep, and she looked up inquiringly to the shepherd as she asked how it happened. “I broke it myself,” said the shepherd sadly and then explained. “Of all the sheep in my flock, this was the most wayward. It would not obey my voice and would not follow when I was leading the flock. On more than one occasion, it wandered to the edge of a perilous cliff. And not only was it disobedient itself, but it was leading other sheep astray.

“Based on my experience with this kind of sheep, I knew I had no choice, so I broke its leg. The next day I took food and it tried to bite me. After letting it lie alone for a couple of days, I went back and it not only eagerly took the food, but licked my hand and showed every sign of submission and affection.

“And now, let me say this. When this sheep is well, it will be the model sheep of my entire flock. No sheep will hear my voice so quickly nor follow so closely. Instead of leading the others away, it will be an example of devotion and obedience. In short, a complete change will come into the life of this wayward sheep. It will have learned obedience through its sufferings.”

Many times it is the same in human experience. Through our suffering, God may be seeking to teach us obedience and reliance on his care.

Note: There is no evidence that this was a practice among shepherds. See the following page for more information. 

A shepherd was tending his flock in a remote pasture when suddenly a brand-new Jeep Cherokee appeared out of a dust cloud, advanced toward him and stopped. The driver, a 20 something fellow wearing a Brioni suit, Gucci shoes, Ray Ban sunglasses and a YSL tie, leaned out of the window and asked the shepherd, "If I can tell you exactly how many sheep you have in your flock, will you give me one?"

The shepherd looked at the young guy, then at his peacefully grazing flock, and calmly answered, "Sure."

The young man parked his car, whipped out his notebook computer, connected it to a cell phone, surfed to a NASA page on the Internet where he called up a GPS satellite navigation system, scanned the area, then opened up a database and some Excel spreadsheets with complex formulas.

He finally printed out a 150-page report on his hi-tech miniaturized printer, turned around to our shepherd and said, "You have here exactly 1,586 sheep!"

"Amazing! That's correct! Like I agreed, you can take one of my sheep," said the shepherd.

The shepherd watched the man make a selection and bundle it into his Cherokee. When he was finished the sheepherder said, "If I can tell you exactly what your political persuasion is, where you're from and who you work for, will you give me my sheep back?"

"Okay, why not," answered the young man.

"You're a Republican/Democrat from (name your city here) and you're working for (name here a local politician or your mayor)," said the shepherd.

"Wow! That's correct," said the young man. "How did you ever guess that?

"Easy," answered the shepherd. "Nobody called you, but you showed up here anyway. You want to be paid for providing a solution to a question I already knew the answer to. And you clearly don't know squat about what you're doing. Now ... can I have my dog back?"

The call of our Lord is "hidden" in a whole chorus of worldly voices which beckon us. Other would-be shepherds seek to tempt us away from the Good Shepherd, the joy of his forgiveness and the security of his love. And when we are weak and confused we may fall victim to the enticements of other gods.

An American tourist traveling in the Mid East came upon several shepherds whose flocks had intermingled while drinking water from a brook. After an exchange of greetings, one of the shepherds turned toward the sheep and called out, "Manah. Manah. Manah." (Manah means "follow me" in Arabic.) Immediately his sheep separated themselves from the rest and followed him.

Then one of the two remaining shepherds called out, "Manah. Manah." and his sheep left the common flock to follow him. The traveler then said to the third shepherd, "I would like to try that. Let me put on your cloak and turban and see if I can get the rest of the sheep to follow me."

The shepherd smiled knowingly as the traveler wrapped himself in the cloak, put the turban on his head and called out, "Manah. Manah." The sheep did not respond to the stranger's voice. Not one of them moved toward him. "Will the sheep ever follow someone other than you?" The traveler asked.

"Oh yes," the shepherd replied, "sometimes a sheep gets sick, and then it will follow anyone."

We have seen it, haven't we? People, young and old, who are "sick." Battered by the storms of life and distracted by voices urging them to go this way and that, they have lost their bearings and they don't know where they are or where they are going. That can be more than a little frightening; it leads to despair, to hopelessness. And when someone is "sick" they will follow anyone who will promise a moment of happiness, a brief feeling of peace or forgetfulness, a sense that they are someone.

But the call of Jesus the Good Shepherd is, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life." There is no better way, no greater truth, no happier life. Our Lord reaches out to us in love that we might follow him.

'Twas a sheep, not a lamb, that strayed away
in the parable Jesus told.
A grown-up sheep that had gone astray
from the ninety and nine in the fold.

Out on the hillside, out in the cold,
'twas a sheep the Good Shepherd sought;
And back to the flock, safe into the fold,
'twas a sheep the Good Shepherd brought.

And why for the sheep should we earnestly long
and as earnestly hope and pray?
Because there is danger, if they go wrong,
they will lead the lambs astray.

For the lambs will follow the sheep, you know,
wherever the sheep may stray;
When the sheep go wrong, it will not be long
till the lambs are as wrong as they.

And so with the sheep we earnestly plead,
for the sake of the lambs today;
If the sheep are lost, what terrible cost
some of the lambs will have to pay!

A pastor was taking a group of parishioners on a tour of the Holy Land. He had just read them the parable of the good shepherd and was explaining to them that, as they continued their tour, they would see shepherds on the hillsides just as in Jesus' day. He wanted to impress the group, so he told them what every good pastor tells his people about shepherds. He described how, in the Holy Land, shepherds always lead their sheep, always walking in front to face dangers, always protecting the sheep by going ahead of them. He barely got the last word out when, sure enough, they rounded a corner and saw a man and his sheep on the hillside. There was only one problem: the man wasn't leading the sheep as the good pastor had said. No, he was behind the sheep and seemed to be chasing them. The pastor turned red. Flabbergasted, he ran over to the fence and said, "I always thought shepherds in this region led their sheep out in front. And I told my people that a good shepherd never chases his sheep." The man replied, "That's absolutely true... you're absolutely right... but I'm not the shepherd, I'm the butcher!"

I am afraid that in this day and age we are all too familiar with the butcher, and not very familiar with the Good Shepherd.

In her book The Preaching Life, Barbara Brown Taylor tells of a conversation she had with a friend who grew up on a sheep farm in the Midwest. According to him, sheep are not dumb at all. "It is the cattle ranchers who are responsible for spreading that ugly rumor, and all because sheep do not behave like cows. Cows are herded from the rear by hooting cowboys with cracking whips, but that will not work with sheep at all. Stand behind them making loud noises and all they will do is run around behind you, because they prefer to be led. You push cows, her friend said, but you lead sheep, and they will not go anywhere that someone else does not go first. Their shepherd-who goes ahead of them to show them that everything is all right."

Sheep know their shepherd and their shepherd knows them.

He went on to say that "it never ceased to amaze him, growing up, that he could walk right through a sleeping flock without disturbing a single one of them, while a stranger could not step foot in the fold without causing pandemonium."

Sheep & shepherds develop a language of their own.

Genesis 47:3 - "Pharaoh said to his brothers, ‘What is your occupation?’ And they said to Pharaoh, ‘Your servants are shepherds, as our fathers were.’ "

Luke 2:8 - "And in that region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night."

This is one of the oldest and most important occupations among the ancient Hebrews. There were two types of shepherds: nomads who followed their flocks from one grazing area to another, and those who lived in villages. The shepherd protected his flock from the cold, robbers, and predatory animals. His only weapons were the staff and sling, although, later dogs were also used.

The shepherd wore a whole animal skin with the wool retained. He may also have worn an undertunic or outer cloak. A folded girdle was also worn in which was carried money or pebbles (for the sling and to draw the flocks’ attention). A veil that consisted of a yard-square piece of material folded into a triangle and held by a black ring of goat’s hair was also worn. He also usually had long hair and a beard.

Several days’ food supply was carried in a bag. The food consisted of bread, cheese, olives, and dried raisins. While the flock grazed, he could nap or play his reed pipe. The shepherd was very devoted to his flock and willing to give his life to save them.

During the summer, the shepherd slept outdoors. During bad weather, he slept in a tent or a special tower. Some shepherds gathered their flocks in caves or stone sheepfolds. To lead them, the shepherd walked ahead of the flock, not behind it. The flock was counted every morning and evening, and the shepherd cared for the sick animals, helped in lambing, and often carried weak lambs.

The Hebrew patriarchs were nomad-type shepherds, and, later, Moses and David were both shepherds. In the Talmud, the rabbis viewed shepherds as dishonest and uncouth because many grazed their flocks on the property of others. But we have before us the Good Shepherd, who cares for us as the shepherd cared for his sheep.

We spoke before of the herdsman, and we said that he lives today very much as before in the Near East, and the same comment that we made then about those who today raise sheep and goats would hold true here also.

A shepherd was herding his flocks in a remote pasture when suddenly a brand new Jeep Cherokee advanced towards him out of a dust cloud. The driver, a young man in a Brioni suit, Gucci shoes, Ray Ban sunglasses and a YSL tie, leans out of the window and asks: "If I can tell you exactly how many sheep you have in your flock, will you give me one?" 

The shepherd looks at the yuppie, then at his peacefully grazing flock and answers, "Sure!" The yuppie parks the car, whips out his notebook, connects it to a cell phone, surfs to a NASA page where he calls up a GPS navigation system, scans the area and opens a database and some 60 spreadsheets with complex formulas. Finally, he prints a 150-page report on a miniature printer, turns to our shepherd and says: "You have exactly 1586 sheep!" "That's correct. As agreed, you can take one of the sheep," says the shepherd. He watches the young man make a selection and bundle it into his Cherokee. 

As the car starts to pull away, he calls out: "If I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me my sheep back?" "Okay, why not?" answers the young man, stopping the car. "You are a consultant" says the shepherd. "That's correct," says the yuppie. "How did you guess?" 

"Easy," answers the shepherd. "You turn up here without being asked. You want to be paid for information I already have. And you don't know anything about my business because you just took my dog."

George Adam Smith, the 19th century biblical scholar tells of traveling one day in the holy land and coming across a shepherd and his sheep. He fell into conversation with him and the man showed him the fold into which the sheep were led at night. It consisted of four walls, with a way in. Smith asked him, "This is where they go at night?" 

"Yes," said the shepherd, "and when they are in there, they are perfectly safe." 

"But there is no door," said Smith. 

"I am the door," said the shepherd. 

He was not a Christian man and wasn't speaking in the language of the New Testament. He was speaking from an Arab shepherd's viewpoint. Smith looked and him and asked, "What do you mean you are the door?" "When the light has gone," said the shepherd, "and all the sheep are inside, I lie in that open space, and no sheep ever goes out but across my body, and no wolf comes in unless he crosses my body; I am the door."

One Sunday morning, following the church service, a layman accosted the pastor and said, "Tom, this church has been insulting me for years, and I did not know it until this week." The stunned pastor replied, "What on earth do you mean?" "Well," said the layman, every Sunday morning the call to worship in this church ends with the words, ‘We are the people of His pasture and the sheep of His hand.' And I have heard ministers over the years call the congregation, God's flock.' Then this past week I visited the Chicago stockyards.  There I discovered that sheep are just about the dumbest animals God ever created.  Why, they are so stupid that they even follow one another docilely into the slaughterhouse.  Even pigs are smarter than sheep, and I would certainly be angry if my church called me a pig' every Sunday morning.  So I'm not at all sure I want to come to church and be called a sheep' any longer...even God's sheep'."

The man had a point.  But whether we like it or not, that is the language of the Bible: both the Hebrew Bible and the Christian New Testament.  We are called "God's sheep." The favorite psalm of many people is the 23rd, and it begins by saying, "The Lord is my shepherd..." And if "the Lord is my shepherd," then I am one of the Lord's sheep.

Today's Middle-east shepherds lives are not radically different from that of their first century counter-parts. They wander endlessly in search of fields where their sheep might graze. Every night, the sheep are led into a protected area - a "sheepfold." Sometimes, there are three or four or five flocks gathered by a number of shepherds into the same area. The shepherds take shifts staying up throughout the night, making sure that wolves or other wild animals aren't able to make their way into the protected area. In the morning, one might wonder if there is any hope of separating one flock from another. But it's a simple matter. Each shepherd calls the sheep and the sheep hear their shepherds' voice, and they immediately begin to move towards their shepherd. After a few minutes, all the sheep are separated into their own flocks, and the shepherds lead them away. Even in a crowd sheep know the voice of their own shepherd, and they follow it.

High in the mountains of North Wales in a place called Llanymawddwy, lives a shepherd named John Jones with his wife Mari and his black and white dog Mack. I stood one misty summer morning in the window of their farmhouse watching John on horseback herding the sheep with Mack. A few cows were quietly chewing their cud in a nearby corner while perhaps a hundred sheep moved across the dewy meadow toward the pens where they were to be dipped. Mack, a champion Scottish collie, was in his glory. He came from a long line of working dogs, and he had sheep in his blood. This was what he was made for, this was what he had been trained to do. And it was a marvelous thing to see him circling to the right, circling to the left, barking, crouching, racing along, herding a stray sheep here, nipping at a stubborn one there, his eyes always glued to the sheep, his ears listening for the tiny metal whistle from his master, which I couldn't hear.

Mari took me to the pens to watch what John had to do there. When all the animals had been shut inside the gates, Mack tore around the outside of the pens and took up his position at the dipping trough, frantic with expectation, waiting for the chance to leap into action again. One by one John seized the rams by their curled horns and flung them into the antiseptic. They would struggle to climb out the side, and Mack would snarl and snap at their faces to force them back in. Just as they were about to climb up the ramp at the far end, John caught them by the horns with a wooden implement, spun them around, and held them ears, eyes, and nose submerged for a few seconds . . . .

When the rams had been dipped, John rode out again on his horse to herd the ewes which were in a different pasture. Again I watched with Mari as John and Mack went to work, the one in charge, the other obedient. Sometimes, tearing at top speed around the flock, Mack would jam on four-wheeled brakes, his eyes blazing but still on the sheep, his body tense and quivering, but obedient to the command to stop. What the shepherd saw the dog could not see the weak ewe that lagged behind, the one caught in a bush, the danger that lay ahead for the flock.

"Do the sheep have any idea what's happening?" I asked Mari.

"Not a clue!" she said.

"And how about Mack?" I'll never forget Mari's answer.

"The dog doesn't understand the pattern only obedience."

During World War I, it is said that some Turkish soldiers tried to steal a flock of sheep from a hillside near Jerusalem. The shepherd, who had been sleeping, suddenly awakened to see his sheep being driven off on the other side of the ravine. He could not hope to recapture his flock by force single-handedly, but suddenly he had a thought. Standing up on his side of the ravine, he put his hands to his mouth and gave his own peculiar call, which he used each day to gather his sheep to him. The sheep heard the familiar sound. For a moment they listened and then, hearing it again, they turned and rushed down one side of the ravine and up the other toward their shepherd. It was quite impossible for the soldiers to stop the animals. The shepherd was away with them to a place of safety before the soldiers could make up their minds to pursue them—and all because his sheep knew their master’s voice.

A sheepfold was a walled enclosure made of stones. Several flocks of sheep were kept in the sheepfold, and when a legitimate shepherd came to get his flock, the doorkeeper or watchman of the fold would let the shepherd pass into the fold. The shepherd would call the sheep, and the sheep, who knew his voice, would come to him, and he would lead his flock out to pasture. When they were away from the sheepfold, the shepherd would stay out all night with his flock, finding some kind of shelter in the pasture area, and he himself would act as the door, so that no wild animal could get by him.

Any job where there is not much recognition or you are taken for granted can seem like a thankless job. Author Ruth Harms Calkin stated it well:

You know, Lord, how I serve You
With great emotional fervor
In the limelight.
You know how eagerly I speak for You
At a women's club;
You know how I effervesce when I promote
A fellowship group.
You know my genuine enthusiasm
At a Bible study.

But how would I react, I wonder
If You pointed to a basin of water
And asked me to wash the callused feet
Of a bent and wrinkled old woman
Day after day
Month after month,
In a room where nobody saw
And nobody knew?

We know what she's talking about, don't we? Thankless jobs. Jobs without much of a payoff in money or recognition. Repetitive jobs, boring jobs, repulsive jobs.

Being a shepherd is a thankless job. It really is. Imagine dealing with dumb, smelly sheep all day. In Palestine, flocks of sheep are plentiful. They dot the countryside, clutter up highways, crowd the streets of towns and villages. The shepherd with his long staff walks in front of his flock and his sheep follow him. In fact, they crowd around so closely they hamper the shepherd's movement. Dumb, helpless sheep.

Economist and seer E.F. Schumacher had a lovely story about an old shepherd. "Don't count the sheep," he said, "or else they won't thrive." By this he meant that counting the sheep turned each live, unique animal into an abstraction, a symbol of a sheep, each one like the next one. In this way one would begin to lose sight of them as individual sheep. One would fail to notice whether they looked healthy, acted normal, and in general were becoming their best sheep selves. The late John Holt, school reformer/ educator/amateur cellist who tells this story, concludes with the observation that "What we easily forget, in our passionate twentieth-century love affair with abstract thinking, is that to make an abstraction out of some part of reality we must take some meaning out of it." (See Holt's Learning All the Time [Reading, Mass.: Addison Wesley Publishing Co., 1989], 104.) Remember: the shepherds with whom Jesus was familiar knew each of their sheep by name, and called the flock to their side each morning.

The master preacher Donald Grey Barnhouse was widowed at a young age. The death of his wife left him and a six-year-old daughter in the home. He had real difficulty working through his own grief, but the hardest part was to comfort and explain the death to his daughter. He later recalled that all of his education and theological training left him at a loss.

One day he and the little girl were standing on a busy corner at a downtown intersection waiting for a light to change. Suddenly a very large truck sped by the comer, briefly blocking out the sun and frightening the little girl.

To comfort her, Dr. Barnhouse picked her up, and in a moment, the wisdom of God broke through and he was able to explain to his daughter:

"When you saw the truck pass it scared you, but let me ask you, had you rather be struck by the truck or the shadow of the truck?" She replied, "Of course, the shadow."

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."

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, huddled 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.

'God's in His Heaven, all's right with the world,' Robert Browning wrote, and the psalm is not saying that any more than you or I can say it either. Whoever wrote it had walked through the valley of the shadow the way one way or another you and I have walked there too. He says so himself. He believed that God was in his Heaven despite the fact that he knew as well as we do that all was far from right with the world. And he believed that God was like a shepherd.

When I think of shepherds, I think of one man in particular I know who used to keep sheep here in Rupert a few years back. Some of them he gave names to, and some of them he didn't, but he knew then equally well either way. If one of them got lost, he didn't have a moment's peace till he found it again. If one of them got sick or hurt, he would move Heaven and earth to get it well again. He would feed them out of a bottle when they were new-born lambs if for some reason the mother wasn't around or wouldn't 'own' them, as he put it. He always called them in at the end of the day so the wild dogs wouldn't get them.

I've seen him wade through snow up to his knees with a bale of hay in each hand to feed them on bitter cold winter evenings, shaking it out and putting it in the manger. I've stood with him in their shed with a forty watt bulb hanging down from the low ceiling to light up their timid, greedy, foolish, half holy faces as they pushed and butted each other to get at it because if God is like a shepherd, there are more than just a few ways, needless to say, that people like you and me are like sheep. Being timid, greedy, foolish, and half holy is only part of it. Like sheep we get hungry, and hungry for more than just food. We get thirsty for more than just drink. Our souls get hungry and thirsty; in fact it is often that sense of inner emptiness that makes us know we have souls in the first place.

There is nothing that the world has to give us, there is nothing that we have to give to each other even, that ever quite fills them. But once in a while that inner emptiness is filled even so. That is part of what the psalm means by saying that God is like a shepherd, I think. It means that, like a shepherd, he feeds us. He feeds that part of us which is hungriest and most in need of feeding.

The major reason for teenage suicide, drug addiction, and alcoholism is that most young people are conformists. They, like their parents, do what “everybody else” does, feeling instinctively that if most people are doing it, then “it” must be good to do. In effect, we act like sheep.

In a packing house where sheep are slaughtered, the sheep walk from their large pen up a narrow ramp and turn right. In order to get the sheep to move up the ramp, a “Judas goat” is trained to lead the sheep up the ramp to their death. The goat is placed among the sheep and then walks confidently to the ramp as the others follow. Once the Judas goat gets to the top of the ramp the he turns left, as a gate is opened only for him and then closed. The others keep going, turn right, and walk to their death. 

Note: Judas Goat is an actual term and are used in slaughter houses for this purpose. Read more hear.

An old German Shepherd starts chasing rabbits and before long, discovers that he's lost. Wandering about, he notices a panther heading rapidly in his direction with the intention of having lunch. The old German Shepherd thinks, "Uh, oh! I'm in big trouble now!"

Noticing some bones on the ground close by, he immediately settles down to chew on the bones with his back to the approaching cat. Just as the panther is about to leap, the old German Shepherd exclaims loudly, "Boy, that was one delicious panther! I wonder if there are any more around here?"

Hearing this, the young panther halts his attack in mid-strike, a look of terror comes over him and he slinks away into the trees. "Whew!," says the panther, "That was close! That old German Shepherd nearly had me!"

Meanwhile, a squirrel who had been watching the whole scene from a nearby tree, figures he can put this knowledge to good use and trade it for protection from the panther. So, off he goes. The squirrel soon catches up with the panther, spills the beans and strikes a deal for himself with the panther.

The young panther is furious at being made a fool of and says, "Here, squirrel, hop on my back and see what's going to happen to that conniving canine!"

Now, the old German Shepherd sees the panther coming with the squirrel on his back and thinks, "What am I going to do now?," but instead of running, the dog sits down with his back to his attackers, pretending he hasn't seen them yet, and just when they get close enough to hear, the old German Shepherd says, "Where's that squirrel? I sent him off an hour ago to bring me another panther!"

Moral of this story - Don't mess with the old dogs. Age and skill will always overcome youth and treachery! Shrewdness and brilliance only come with age and experience.

A little girl reciting the 23rd Psalm began, "The Lord is my shepherd; that's all I want." Maybe she missed the wording, but she sure got the theology right. To have Jesus as our shepherd is indeed a blessing. As he moves towards the cross, Jesus holds up this model of the good shepherd, reminding his listeners that a good shepherd would lay down his life for the sheep. He would give his life to protect the sheep from thieves, wild animals, or whatever danger might confront the flock. We can give him our allegiance because of his commitment to us.

Contrary to what some of you may be thinking, this meditation, "Dips in Discipleship," is not a pejorative way of speaking about certain disciples of Christ. Had that been my intent, I would not have used an outdated term like "dip." We are not talking about dumb people who are out of touch with reality. Rather, I am referring to those times in our lives as Christian disciples when we enter into the valleys of depression. The times when nothing goes right, when thing get so bad that even God seems to have deserted us. We probably all have been through some of these times in our Christian lives. Perhaps some of us have dipped into the valley of depression recently and are still there. There are even times when it seems that the harder we try to do the will of the Lord, the more life gangs up on us and brings disappointment our way. As a result, we sometimes dip into pits of spiritual depression.

Now listen carefully, God deserts no one. God isn’t a problem provider. There is evil in the world that causes dips in discipleship, but there is no evil in God.

Remember the children’s prayer, "God is great, God is good, and we thank him for our food"? That prayer is true. God is great and God is good - there is no evil in God. God is not the author of the dips. Crying out to God, "Why are you doing this to my life?" is dumping your garbage at the wrong doorstep. Rather, curse the Devil, the devisor of dips. Evil causes mental, physical, and spiritual sickness. When we become a disciple of Christ, we can almost guarantee that old evil foe is not going to sit on his thumbs but will put a few dips in the way of our lives.

Although God does not lead us into valleys of despair, he is even present in those valleys. As the psalmist says, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me." Even if we abandon God; he does not abandon us. As C. S. Lewis wrote, "The gates of hell only can be locked from the inside." God is always as close to us as a whispered prayer.

When he told the parable of the prodigal son, Jesus left no doubt that it is the Father’s desire to forgive us and re-enter into a loving relationship even after we have had a dip in discipleship. When all of our best efforts have failed and we realize that we can’t go it alone, through prayer we can invite the Holy Spirit to conquer the evil within us and to reinstate us as a member in good standing of God’s family.

When you are engaged in a particular life crisis, remember the story of David and Goliath. God helped David conquer a very large problem. If your life is calling upon you to stand firm for your principles, remember the time when Luther went to the Diet of Worms. The possibility of death snapped at his heels, but God was with him. He was not alone. Through God, he was also victorious.

1 Samuel 17:18 - "also take these ten cheeses to the commander of their thousand ..."

2 Samuel 17:29 - "honey and curds and sheep and cheese from the herd, for David and the people with him to eat; for they said, ‘The people are hungry and weary and thirsty in the wilderness.’"

Cheese is one of the oldest known foods. Ever since man has learned to domesticate cattle and goats, and use their milk, he has had the knowledge to make cheese. In fact, the making of cheese was such a well-known occupation that Josephus refers to the "Valley of the Cheese-makers."

During biblical times, the standard method of making cheese was by salting strained curds, molding them into small discs, and drying them in the open air. These curds were the residue of a soured milk, which was consumed in great quantities, since the people felt that it quenched the thirst better in its soured form that it did fresh, and, of course, it’s not a very big step from sour milk to cheese, which is more easily portable.

The Greeks and Romans were supposed to have had cheese as a staple of their diets at least a thousand years before the Christian era. It is mentioned in the earliest documents that are in existence, so we can be forgiven for saying that it is indeed an ancient food.

In biblical times, there were three kinds of cheese: HEMAH, which is comparable to our cream cheese; GEBINAH, which was an ordinary, coarsely grained cheese, and HARIZ HE-HALAB, which is a long way of saying cottage cheese. We can walk down the aisles of our magnificent supermarkets today, and see row after row of exotic cheeses, both domestic and imported.

But, essentially, the common ingredient is there, the ingredient that likens us to our ancestors - the basic ingredient for cheese making is milk of some animal or another.

We are very nutrition oriented today, and we are fully aware of the nutritional values in cheese and cheese products. Would it surprise you to know that the ancient Romans were also aware of these nutritional values? Not, of course, that they could isolate them or give them scientific names; but they did recognize that cheese had strength-giving properties that were essential for soldiers such as they were.

In many countries today, particularly in poorer countries where meat is a luxury for the common man, cheese is still a staple of the diet. To offer a guest cheese, bread and salt is to offer him your hospitality. Perhaps we could offer that to Kraft or one of the other big dairy products companies for a slogan!

We find very few links any longer to ancient forebears, but the cheese maker of today is a direct descendant of these forebears. His methods may be more modern, and much more sanitary, but his products remain the same.

Genesis 38:12 - "in course of time the wife of Judah, Shuah’s daughter, died; and when Judah was comforted, he went up to Timnah, to his sheepshearers, he and his friend Hirah the Adullamite."

2 Samuel 13:23 - "After two full years Absalom had sheepshearers at Baalhazor, which was near Ephraim, and Absalom invited all the king’s sons."

Shearing was done after the spring lambing season at the shearing houses. However, not all the sheep were shorn - the firstlings of the flock were sacred to God and were not shorn. The wool which was gathered from these sheep was made into clothing for the family, and, for those who had additional wool, it made a substantial income when sold.

The shearing time was a time of great rejoicing, and gave rise to a gala feast. The flock’s owner, joined by his shearers, provided a feast for friends and relatives. Part of the joy stemmed from the revenue realized, but there may very well be some connection between these festivals and the Passover Feast.

The large sheep owners of today still use sheep-shearers to remove the wool from the sheep and prepare it for shipment to the manufacturers of materials and clothing. Without them, many of the articles of clothing that we take so much for granted would be unavailable.

In Death Valley there is a place known as Dante's View. There, you can look down to the lowest spot in the United States, a depression in the earth 200 feet below sea level called Bad Water. But from that same spot, you can also look up to the highest peak in the United States, Mount Whitney, rising to a height of 14,500 feet. One way leads to the lowest and the other way to the highest. From that point, called Dante's View, any movement must be in one or the other direction.

There are many times in life when we stand where the ways part and where choices must be made. It is often easier to trip along downhill than to walk the steady, or maybe rocky, uphill path. But the path uphill leads to a cross--an empty cross. And the one that walks beside us is the one who hung there and defeated it.

Tradition holds that a candy maker wanted to make a candy that would be a witness, so he made the Christmas Candy Cane. He incorporated several symbols for the birth, ministry, and death of Jesus Christ. He began with a stick of pure white hard candy: white to symbolize the Virgin Birth and the sinless nature of Jesus, and hard to symbolize the solid rock, the Foundation of the Church and firmness of the promises of God.

The candy maker made the candy in the form of a "J" to represent the name of Jesus, who came to earth as our Savior. It could also represent the staff of the Good Shepherd with which He reaches down into the ditches of the world to lift out the fallen lambs who, like all sheep, have gone astray. Thinking that the candy was somewhat plain, the candy maker stained it with red stripes. He used three small stripes for the blood shed by Christ on the cross, so that we could have the promise of eternal life.

Another description is as follows:

The Candy Cane, used during the holidays, stands as an important Christmas symbol. A candy maker wanted to come up with an idea to express the meaning of Christmas through the imagination of candy. That is when he came up with the idea of the Candy Cane. There are several different symbols incorporated through the Candy Cane. First, he used a plain white peppermint stick. The color white symbolizes the purity and sinless nature of Jesus. Next, he decided to add three small stripes to symbolize pain inflicted upon Jesus before his death on the cross and a bold stripe to represent the blood he shed for mankind. Two other symbols are distinctive on the Candy Cane. When looked at, it looks like a shepherd's staff because Jesus is the shepherd of man. Then if you turn it upside down, you will notice the shape of the letter J symbolizing the first letter in Jesus' name. These five symbols were incorporated into this piece of peppermint stick so that we would remember what we really celebrate the Christmas season.

Wikipedia covers the German origins:

In 1670, in Cologne, Germany, the choirmaster at Cologne Cathedral, wishing to remedy the noise caused by children in his church during the Living Crèche tradition of Christmas Eve, asked a local candy maker for some "sugar sticks" for them. In order to justify the practice of giving candy to children during worship services, he asked the candy maker to add a crook to the top of each stick, which would help children remember the shepherds who visited the infant Jesus. In addition, he used the white color of the converted sticks to teach children about the Christian belief in the sinless life of Jesus. From Germany, candy canes spread to other parts of Europe, where they were handed out during plays reenacting the Nativity. The candy cane became associated with Christmastide.

This is a snapshot and abbreviation of William J. Bennett's assessment of American culture in the 90's, looking back through the 20th century. Compare this "voice in the wilderness" to today's issues:

Last year I compiled the Index of Leading Cultural Indicators, a statistical portrait of American behavioral trends of the past three decades. Among the findings: Since 1960, while the gross domestic product has nearly tripled, violent crime has increased at least 560%. Divorces have more than doubled. The percentage of children in single-parent homes had tripled. And by the end of the decade 40% of all American births and 80% of minority births will occur out of wedlock. These are not good things to get used to.

In 1940 teachers identified the top problems in America's schools as: Talking out of turn, chewing gum, making noise and running in the hall. In 1990, teachers listed drugs, alcohol, pregnancy, suicide, rape and assault. These are not good things to get used to, either.

There is a coarseness, a callousness and a cynicism to our era. The worst of it has to do with our children. Our culture seems almost dedicated to the corruption of the young. We have become inured to the cultural rot that is setting in. People are losing their capacity for shock, disgust and outrage...

The ancients called our problem acedia, an aversion to spiritual things and an undue concern for the external and the worldly. Acedia also is the seventh capital sin sloth but it does not mean mere laziness. The slothful heart is stepped in the worldly and carnal, hates the spiritual and wants to be free of its demands.

When the novelist Walker Percy was asked what concerned him most about America's future, he answered, "Probably the fear of seeing America, with all its great strength and beauty and freedom...gradually subside into decay through default and be defeated, not by the communist movement, but from within, from weariness, boredom, cynicism, greed and in the end helplessness before its great problems."

I realize this is a tough indictment. If my diagnosis is wrong, then why, amid our economic prosperity and military security, do almost 70% of the public say we are off track? I submit that only when we turn to the right things enduring, noble, spiritual things will life get better.

Most important, we must return religion to its proper place. Religion provides us with moral bearings, and the solution to our chief problem of spiritual impoverishment depends on spiritual renewal. The surrendering of strong beliefs, in our private and public lives, has demoralized society.

Today, much of society ridicules and mocks those who are serious about their faith. America's only respectable form of bigotry is bigotry against religious people. And the only reason for hatred of religion is that it forces us to confront matters many would prefer to ignore.

Today we must carry on a new struggle for the country we love. We must push hard against an age that is pushing hard against us. If we have full employment and greater economic growth if we have cities of gold and alabaster but our children have not learned how to walk in goodness, justice and mercy, then the American experiment, no matter how gilded, will have failed.

Do not surrender. Get mad. Get in the fight.

Note: from "Excerpts from What Really Ails America," condensed from a speech by William J. Bennett, delivered December 7, 1993 at the Heritage Foundation, Washington, D.C., reprinted in Reader's Digest, April, 1994.

Prayer by a Bishop Anselm for the Members of His Church, adapted as a Prayer of a Mother for Her Children.

Jesus, good Shepherd, they are not mine but Yours,
for I am not mine but Yours.
I am Yours, Lord, and they are Yours,
because by Your wisdom You have created
both them and me,
and by Your death You have redeemed us.

So we are Yours, good Lord, we are Yours,
whom You have made with such wisdom
and bought so dearly.
Then if You commend them to me, Lord,
You do not therefore desert me or them.
You commend them to me:
I commend myself and them to You.
Yours is the flock, Lord, and Yours is the shepherd.
Be Shepherd of both Your flock and shepherd.

You have made an ignorant mother,
a blind leader, an erring ruler:
teach the mother You have established,
guide the leader You have appointed,
govern the ruler You have approved.

I beg You,
teach me what I am to teach,
lead me in the way that I am to lead,
rule me so that I may rule others.
Or rather, teach them, and me through them,
lead them, and me with them,
rule them, and me among them.

Adapted from Anselm (1033 – 1099), Archbishop of Canterbury, translated by Sister Benedicta Ward, S.L.G. Adapted for mothers by Ruth Bell Graham.

Numbers. Our lives are filled with numbers. Each year we file our income taxes. Now that's an exercise in numbers to end all numbers games. Pages upon pages of numbers. And when it is finally prepared, we send it off to the Internal Revenue Service with our Social Security number on it. And the IRS takes all those numbers and puts them into a computer, along with the numbers of thousands and thousands of other people. And to them, we become a number.

The government knows us by our tax number. The state knows us by our driver's license number. The bank knows us by our account number. And when we retire, we'll be known by our Social Security number. And it goes on and on. In fact, sometimes I wonder if anybody knows us at all without a number!

And that's why this morning's Gospel reading is so significant, because it tells us that God knows us. He knows us intimately, in fact, better than we know ourselves. And that's important to remember. In spite of the fact that the image of sheep and shepherd is foreign to our experience, the words of the Gospel this morning hearken for us a truth that our human hearts long to hear. The Old Testament writer put it even more clearly when he wrote, "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want." Jesus says it this morning, "My sheep hear my voice and I know them and they follow me, and I give them eternal life."

As Paul Tillich put it so eloquently: "Grace strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness . . . It strikes us when our disgust for our own being, our weakness, our hostility, and our lack of direction and composure have become intolerable to us. It strikes us when, year after year, the longed for perfection of life does not appear, when the old compulsions reign with us as they have for decades . . . Sometimes at that moment a wave of light breaks into our darkness, and it is as though a voice were saying: " ‘You are accepted. . . .'"

We are accepted. Now we must accept others. The greatest need some people have is to be accepted. Acceptance changes lives. Let's you and I work together to make this house of worship known as a place where people can discover the acceptance of God and of the Christian community.

The full Tillich quote: Grace Strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness. It strikes us when we walk through the dark valley of a meaningless and empty life. It strikes us when we feel that our separation is deeper than usual, because we have violated another life, a life which we loved, or from which we were estranged. It strikes us when our disgust for our own being, our indifference, our weakness, our hostility, and our lack of direction and composure have become intolerable to us. It strikes when, year after year, the longed-for perfection of life does not appear, when the old compulsions reign within us as they have for decades, when despair destroys all joy and courage. Sometimes at that moment a wave of light breaks into our darkness and it is as though a voice were saying: “You are accepted. You are accepted. Accepted by that which is greater than you and the name of which you do not know. Do not ask for the name now; perhaps you will find it later. Do not try to do anything now; perhaps later you will do much. Do not seek anything, do not perform anything, do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted. If that happens to us, we experience grace.

My wife and I used to live in Madrid, Spain. On a visit to Segovia we were in a small village above the town. A heated argument was taking place in a local bar (cafe). It turned out that the owner of some sheep was berating two hired hands. Their crime? The night before there had been a fiesta in the village. Not wishing to miss the fun, they had abandoned the sheep and gone to the fiesta. The sheep had been found wandering the streets, no doubt looking for the shepherds. A true story illustrating the truth that the hired man does not care about the sheep.

According to an account in the New York Times, it was just before Christmas several years ago that David Storch, a music teacher, borrowed a copy of the score of Handel's "Messiah" from the Brooklyn Public Library. Through a clerical error, however, the transaction was not recorded. There were several other requests for the score, and the library staff, unaware that it had been checked out, spent many hours searching in vain for it through the stacks. On the day that Storch returned it, placing it on the circulation desk, he was astonished to hear the librarian spontaneously, joyously, and loudly shout, "The 'Messiah' is here! The 'Messiah' is back!" Every head in the library turned toward the voice, but, alas, as the Times reported, "A few minutes later everyone went back to work."

A wry story, but also a parable of the often dashed expectations of those who wait for God. Someone cries, "Peace, peace," but there is no peace. Another says, "Comfort, comfort," but there is little comfort. "Come, thou long-expected Jesus," goes the prayerful hymn, and heads turn in a moment of curious interest, then, seeing nothing, go back to work. And so, weary of waiting on a God who does not come, we lower our horizons, fold our hands in prayer to more tangible gods to give us purpose, and turn to more immediate and reliable resources for hope. We build shiny sanctuaries of glass and steel where we can celebrate "possibility thinking" and the other human potentials, which we hope will save us from our self-doubt, if not our sins. We fill the silos and the skies with ever more potent weapons of destruction, which we hope will save us from each other. And we summon the elixirs of modern medicine to save us from disease, aging, and finally from death. In short, tired of waiting for the one true God, we create our own, molded in our own image.

A retelling of the talents parable:

Once there was a king who had three sons, each with a special talent. The first had a talent for growing fruit. The second for raising sheep. And the third for playing the violin. Once, the king had to go overseas on important business. Before departing he called his three sons together and told them he was depending on them to keep the people contented in his absence. Now for a while things went well. But then came the winter, a bitter and cruel winter it was. There was an acute shortage of firewood. Thus the first son was faced with a very difficult decision. Should he allow the people to cut down some of his beloved fruit trees for firewood? When he saw the people shivering with cold, he finally allowed them to do so. The second son was also faced with a difficult decision. Food became very scarce. Should he allow the people to kill some of his beloved sheep for food? When he saw the children crying for hunger, his heart went out to them and he allowed them to kill some of the sheep.. Thus the people had firewood for their fires, and food for their tables. Nevertheless the harsh winter continued to oppress them. Their spirits began to sag, and there was no one to cheer them up. They turned to the fiddler, but he refused to play for them. In the end things got so bad that in desperation many of them emigrated. Then one day the king arrived back home. He was terribly sad to find that many of his people had left his kingdom. He called in his three sons to give an account of what had gone wrong. The first said, "Father, I hope you won't be mad at me, but the winter was very cold and so I allowed the people to cut down some of the fruit trees for firewood." And the second son said, "Father, I hope you won't be mad with me because when food got scarce I allowed the people to kill some of my sheep." On hearing this, far from being angry, the father embraced his two sons, and told them that he was proud of them. Then the third son came forward carrying his fiddle with him. "Father", he said, "I refused to play because you weren't here to enjoy the music." "Well then", said the king, "play me a tune now because my heart is full of sorrow." The son raised the violin and bow, but found that his fingers had gone stiff from lack of exercise. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get them to move. Then the father said, "You could have cheered up the people with your music, but you refused. If the kingdom is half-empty, the fault is yours. But now you can no longer play. That will be your punishment."

Note: Some have attributed this retelling to Henry David Thoreau, but we have been unable to substatiant this.

Some of the world's greatest men and women have been saddled with disabilities and adversities but have managed to overcome them.

• Cripple him, and you have a Sir Walter Scott.
• Lock him in a prison cell, and you have a John Bunyan.
• Bury him in the snows of Valley Forge, and you have a George Washington.
• Raise him in abject poverty, and you have an Abraham Lincoln.
• Subject him to bitter religious prejudice, and you have a Benjamin Disraeli.
• Strike him down with infantile paralysis, and he becomes a Franklin D. Roosevelt.
• Burn him so severely in a schoolhouse fire that the doctors say he will never walk again, and you have a Glenn Cunningham, who set a world's record in 1934 for running a mile in 4 minutes, 4.4 seconds.
• Deafen a genius composer, and you have a Ludwig van Beethoven.
• Have him or her born black in a society filled with racial discrimination, and you have a Booker T. Washington, a Harriet Tubman, a Marian Anderson, or a George Washington Carver.
• Make him the first child to survive in a poor Italian family of eighteen children, and you have an Enrico Caruso.
• Have him born of parents who survived a Nazi concentration camp, paralyze him from the waist down when he is four, and you have an incomparable concert violinist, Iczhak Perlman.
• Call him a slow learner, "retarded," and write him off as ineducable, and you have an Albert Einstein.

Jesus lived with nature, and he taught from it. If I want an object lesson, I have to carry it into the pulpit or trust that you and I can blend our imaginations to envision a scene. Jesus had his illustrations at first hand; the people could often reach out and touch them. "Consider the lilies of the field," Jesus said, and the people looked at a hillside just to their right. "A certain man went out to sow seed," Jesus said, and every person in the crowd knew what he was talking about, because they had either sown seed or had seen another do it. "There was a shepherd who lost a sheep": there wasn't a person there but whose acquaintance included someone who had gone searching for such a poor, lost beast.

But the marvel with Jesus is that he took such common elements and touched them with eternity. The people who heard him teach knew all about lilies, farming, and sheep, but now they saw those things as messengers of God's work in the world. G.K. Chesterton said it well:

There was a man who dwelt in the east centuries ago.
And now I cannot look at a sheep or sparrow,
A lily or a cornfield, a raven or a sunset,
A vineyard or a mountain, without thinking of Him.

When Chesterton wrote those words, he wasn't thinking of a tour in the Holy Land, but simply of what the teachings of Jesus had done to his entire outlook on life. Jesus gives a sacredness to the common elements of life.

Oh, you say, had I been there at Bethlehem that night I would have seen. I would have understood. I would have known it was the Christ child. Would you? There is one way of knowing:

Ask yourself what you have seen and heard this Christmas Season.

• When you watched the 6:00 news did you see chaos and strife, or did you see sheep without a shepherd.
•  When you went out to do your shopping did you see only hordes of people in the stores, or did you notice the worried expressions on some of their faces worried because they are facing this Christmas without employment or enough money and they don't know how they are going to make ends meet.

What did you hear this Christmas?

• Did you hear only the blast of music and carols, or did you hear the silent sighs of the lonely and the bereaved who may be dreading Christmas because it accentuates their loneliness.
• And in the midst of the sounds of honking horns and people arguing over parking places, did you hear [name here the sounds coming from some meaningful mission or event of your local church].

You see, so often what you see and what you hear is not dependent upon the event but upon you. If you did in fact hear the cry from the lonely, the laughter of poor children, if you saw the sheep without a shepherd, then, and only then, might you have noticed the events that took place in Bethlehem that night. If you lacked that spiritual seeing and hearing then you probably would have been with the 99% who were present but who saw or heard nothing out of the ordinary. In the end perhaps one of our carols words it best:

No ear may hear his coming, but in this world of sin.
Where meek souls shall receive him still, the dear Christ enters in.

Amen.

Acts 1:4-14 contains certain encouragements to the followers of Christ to be an "expectant" fellowship. With this in mind, let us consider some specific instances where expectancy is implied.

1. Acts 1:5: "For John baptized with water but before many days you shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit." What is the difference between John’s water baptism and the baptism of the Holy Spirit?

a. John’s baptism. Water baptism was commonly practiced by the Jews long before the appearance of John. It symbolized religious purification, and in a more specialized use it was applied when new converts entered into Judaism (proselyte baptism). John, however, baptized both Jews and Gentiles as a rote of moral purification for the approaching Kingdom of God. Although John’s baptism would enable those who submitted to it to meet the "Day of the Lord," it was to be distinguished as different from a future baptism, administered by one who "will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire."

b. Baptism of the Holy Spirit. This baptism consists not in symbolic gestures of initiation, but in the receiving of "power." It does not ordain anybody for, or against, the future but rather manifests itself in a spiritual experience in the present. An initiatory baptism is symbolically accomplished once, whereas the baptism of the Holy Spirit may occur quite unrehearsed many times over. The element of expectation is contained in the selected scripture by the phrase, "But before many days, you shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit."

2. Acts 1:7-8: "It is not for you to know times or seasons which the Father had fixed by his own authority. But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you." The disciples have just asked Jesus a legitimate question regarding the nature of his mission. A simple "yes" or "no" answer would not have been sufficient inasmuch as if he replied, "Yes (I have come to restore the Kingdom of Israel)," it would have been a lie, and if he had replied "No," they would have become disillusioned with him in the beginning. Instead, he informs them that it is not for them to know all the mysteries of God - but there is a consolation: "You shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you." Perhaps it is like saying to someone, "You cannot adequately define love, but nonetheless you can experience it." Here, the power of the Holy Spirit is promised, and they are encouraged to expect it in their own experience.

3. Acts 1:11: "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven?" I suppose the most logical answer would have been, "Because we are bewildered!" It would have been extremely difficult to have acted otherwise while witnessing their Lord being lifted up into heaven on a cloud. If that were not enough, two men in white robes suddenly appeared to stand by them and question their amazement. In all probability, at least one of the inferences here is that rather than gazing into heaven, it would be more proper to get on with the business of the Kingdom, teaching and preaching, and doing "whatsoever I have commanded you." However, they should pursue their tasks of soul-winning with an attitude of expectancy because "this Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way."

4. Acts 1:14. "All those with one accord devoted themselves to prayer." And we may be sure that their prayers contained expectancy. Expectancy for what? For the baptism of the Holy Spirit and the return of the risen Lord.

God’s “glory” is how we describe the sum effect of all of his attributes: Grace, truth, goodness, mercy, justice, knowledge, power, eternality—all that he is. Therefore, the glory of God is intrinsic, that is, it is as essential to God as light is to the sun, as blue is to the sky, as wet is to water. You don’t make the sun light; it is light. You don’t make water wet; it is wet. In all of these cases, the attribute is intrinsic to the object.

In contrast, man’s glory is granted to him. If you take a king and take off all his robes and crowns and give him only a rag to wear and leave him on the streets for a few weeks, when put next to a beggar you’ll never know which is which. Because there is no intrinsic glory. The only glory a king has is when you give him a crown and a robe and sit him on his throne. He has no intrinsic glory.

That’s the point. The only glory that men have is granted to them. The glory that is God’s is his in his essence. You can’t de-glory God because glory is his nature. You can’t touch his glory. It cannot be taken away. It cannot be added to. It’s his being.

As some of you know, Fiorello LaGuardia was mayor of New York during the Depression, and he was quite a character. He would ride the city fire trucks, take entire orphanages to baseball games and whenever the city newspapers went on strike, he would get on the radio and read the Sunday "funnies" to the children.

At any rate, one bitter cold winter's night in 1935, Mayor LaGuardia turned up in a night court that served the poorest ward in the city, dismissed the judge for the evening and took over the bench himself. After he heard a few cases, a tattered old woman was brought before him, accused of stealing a loaf of bread.

She told LaGuardia that her daughter's husband had deserted her, her daughter was sick and her grandchildren were starving. But the shopkeeper, from whom the bread was stolen, insisted on pressing charges. "My store is in a very bad neighborhood, your honor," he said. "She's got to be punished in order to teach other people a lesson."

The mayor sighed. He turned to the old woman and said, "I've got to punish you," he said. "The law makes no exception - ten dollars or ten days in jail."

But even as he spoke, LaGuardia was reaching into his pocket and pulling out a ten dollar bill. "Here is the woman's fine," he said, "and furthermore, I'm going to fine everyone in this court room fifty cents for living in a city where a person has to steal bread so that her grandchildren can eat. Mr. Baliff, collect the fines and give them to the defendant."

The following day, the New York Times reported that $47.50 was turned over to the bewildered old woman. It was given by the red-faced store owner, some seventy petty criminals, people with traffic violations and city policemen on duty that night in the chambers - and they all gave their mayor a standing ovation as they handed over their money.

That's how it will be with God's world. Just when it seems that all hope is lost, and goodness and mercy shall never win, the Great Judge will come to set things right, deciding for the hungry and the meek of the earth. Yes, there is also an Advent promise for the nations of the world in perplexity and distress: "Look up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near."

Once a dying patient asked his doctor, who had come to make a house call on him, what death would be like. The doctor fumbled for a reply and then he heard his dog scratching at the door of the man's room. The answer came to him. The doctor looked at the patient and said, "Did you hear that noise?

That is my dog which I brought with me tonight, and I left him downstairs before I came up to your room. He climbed those stairs for he knows that I am in here. He has no other ideas about what is in this room for he has never been here. All he knows is that I am in here and that is good enough for him. You don't know what is on the other side of the door of death, but you do know that your Master is there."

That should be good enough for all of us. We will never walk through the door or through the valley of death alone. He will always be there to go with us through the door to the other side.

There is a beautiful valley in Switzerland which is deeply hidden in that mountain range known as the Alps. That valley is completely surrounded by steep mountain walls. If one enters this valley, that person will move along the only road until it ends at the base of a steep wall of rock.

The Swiss call this place the "End of the World." However, if one is willing to go climbing by foot, Swiss guides will show a determined hiker the path that leads up and over that mountain barrier.

Reflecting upon this natural phenomenon, Harleigh Rosenberger comments that many people believe that life is like a road that runs through the valley of time. "We cannot turn back but must continue walking onward. The days pass quickly and then comes the end of the road. We stand at the sheer rock wall we call death. It is the end of our world, for it is the end of life."

Because Jesus Christ has been raised from the dead and we have through him received the gift of eternal life, we find a way up and over that wall of rock. Jesus said, "I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die (John 11:25)."

My friends in Christ, our hope is grounded in the gift of eternal life which we receive this day - it is our way out of the valley of darkness and despair through which all of us walk at one time or another in our lives. This gift of eternal life does not begin at death. It begins now for all who worship the risen Christ. This life eternal will then continue beyond the grave into the life to come, for our souls are eternal, and in Christ we become one with the Father who made us. This is the hope and the promise which we receive this glorious Easter Day.

The story is told of a farmer who had just rescued a lost sheep. When asked how the sheep got lost, the farmer replied, "They just nibble themselves lost. They go from one tuft of grass to another, until at last they've lost their way." That's what happens in life, isn't it? We nibble away at life with little purpose or direction, until it's gone and we have no idea where it went.

In a world that's increasingly more scattered and scared, our task as Christ's Church is to translate and transmit the voice of the Good Shepherd to all those who are lost, hurting, and alone. It's also about following Jesus' example and welcoming everyone into the fold. Even we sheep should be able to understand that.

Fortune Magazine asked 19 accomplished people what was the best advice they ever got. Here are some of them: (Don't try to preach all 17 excerpts below.  We suggest using 3 to 4 examples that mean the most to your community. Then skip down and use the conclusion to this illustration.)

Michael Bloomberg, the mayor of New York, got his from his days at Salomon Brothers: "Always ask for the order, and second, when the customer says yes, stop talking."

Mark Hurd, the CEO of Hewlett-Packard, got his years ago from his days under NCR CEO Chuck Exley who was listening to an executive's presentation. At the end Exley said to the presenter: "Good Story, but it's hard to look smart with bad numbers." Hurd said he has reflected on that over the years, and says, if you "deliver good numbers and you earn the right for people to listen to you."

Indra Nooyi, an India born woman and Chairman and CEO of PepsiCo, says her father was an absolutely wonderful man who taught her: always assume positive intent.  Whatever anybody says or does assume positive intent. She went on to say, "you will be amazed how your whole approach to a person or problems becomes very different. If you assume negative intent your anger goes up and your response is random. Assume positive intent and you listen, you're non defensive, and you seek to understand.

Sam Palmisano, the chairman and CEO of IBM, was told this but he has observed it. The most effective leaders, CEO's and head of state, which he has observed, don't make themselves the center of attention. They are respectful and they listen. This makes people comfortable; they open up and speak up.

Eddie Lampert chairman and CEO of Sears Holdings, said that when he was 7, 8, 9, and 10 almost every weekend he and his dad would toss a football in the backyard. He would say, "Go out ten steps and turn to the right." The ball would reach me just as I turned. He asked his dad why he did this. He said, "If I waited for you to turn, you and the defensive player would have an equal chance to get the ball. Your opportunity is gone." His conclusion from those football days in his back yard? Anticipation is the key to investing and business generally.

In 1982 Gen. David Patraeus, then a captain with eight years military experience was weighing various options for his life. His boss Maj. Gen. Jack Galvin, said, "I think you ought to look for an out-of-your-intellectual-comfort-zone experience. He took that advice and went to staff college and then graduate school at Princeton getting his Ph.D. in international relations. There he learned that seriously bright people can think differently about issues and come to very different conclusions about world problems.

Thoams M. Murphy, former CEO of ABC, learned from his father, "Doing the wrong thing is not worth the loss of one night's good sleep."

Nelson Peltz, who along with his father bought Snapple in 1997, learned from his father a very simple lesson about business: "Get sales up, and keep expenses down."

Peter G Peterson, Chairman of the Blackstone group, learned from his professor Milton Friedman, at the University of Chicago, "Focus on those thing that you do better than others."

Joaana Shileds, the president of BEBO.com, says she always goes back to the things that her dad said, "Your career is long and the business world is small. Always act with integrity. Never take the last dollar off the table."

Elon Musj, founder and CEO of SACEX, learned from the very humorous book "The Hitchhiker's guide to the Galaxy," a very short piece of advice: "Don't Panic." You have to be wary of emotion clouding your decision-making process.

Tina Fey, the comedian from Saturday Night Live, learned from an Oprah Winfrey show, "Always be the only person who can sign your checks."

U. Mark Schneider, the CEO of Frensenius, was pushed by his father to become fluent in English. He told him, "No matter what you are going to do this will give you an edge. The English language is the operating system of the free world."

Tony Robbins, a performance coach, learned that the selection of your friends and advisors matter more than anything else. He got this advice from a personal-development speaker, who said, "Tony, think of it this way, If your worst enemy drops sugar in your coffee, what's the worst think that is going to happen to you? Nothing. But if your best friend drops strychnine in your coffee? You're dead. You have to stand guard at the door of your mind."

CONCLUSION:  Perhaps a few of the Disciples would have said that this was the best advice they ever got from Jesus: When you construct your house build it on the rock. When the winds blow and rains come it will still be there after the storm. Those who build on the sand will find otherwise. Many of us can probably articulate the best advice we ever received. We either got it from our Father or Mother or from some teacher or boss. I wonder what Matthew would have said were I to ask him, "What was the best advice you ever got from Jesus?" Perhaps it was this story about the wise and foolish builders.

Being able to identify wise ideas is important; it's even more important to put those ideas into practice. This separates the fool from the philosopher, the simpleton from the sage. Jesus starts his parable with this very warning: Everyone who hears my words and puts them into practice is wise; those who hear and do not are fools. Hearing wisdom is one thing, putting it into practice is another.

But there is a third element here to the wisdom of Jesus' parable that might be easily over looked by careless reading. It is true that Jesus offers the disciples a wise word: Build on rock not sand. That's the obvious first point of the story. Secondarily, he reminds them to put this advice into practice. Now the third: There is the difference between Jesus and every leader, teacher, boss, or father you will ever encounter. Jesus draws a sharp contrast between him and the rest of the world in the phrase "my words." Those who hear MY WORDS and put them into practice. It begs the question: What do you think of THIS man? Will you listen to HIM? Will you practice HIS teachings? Will you live as HE directs?

Will you?

After all Jesus is not talking about building a house here or simply offering this well crafted image of rock and sand as a way to approach life.  He is claiming that his Words, his teachings, make the difference between wisdom and folly.