He woke up just as the sun was peeking over the top of the mountains to the east, just as he had done every morning for the past couple of months. He took a few minutes to enjoy the beauty of it all, and then quickly got up and took a quick look in every direction to make sure everything was safe. He made one quick trip around the low, stone wall of the sheepfold, making sure the wall was still secure. Then he stopped at the gap in the wall filled with briars, at the gate. The sheep began to stir as he walked around, and one by one they walked over to the gate to begin the day.

With all sheep accounted for after a safe night, his first task was to see that they all had a good drink of water. He had planned this last night, so he knew the direction to lead them that would be the safest to take. He knew that there was really no such thing as a “safe” path in this country. That’s why he had the sling hung on his belt and the small leather pouch filled with stones. The sling and stone was not just used to slay giants, as David once did. They were also quite effective against things like mountain lions. And, like all other experienced shepherds, he was a crack shot with his sling.

He also carried his crook, the long stick with the curved hook on the end. It wasn’t just for show, nor was it some kind of a badge to let everyone know he was a shepherd. The stick was a perfect second line of defense against any intruder, like a wild animal or a thief, determined to steal a sheep or two. A quick, firm thump on the head with that solid piece of wood would quickly convince any attacker to look someplace else.

And the hook? There were many times that, to get his flock from one place to another, the shepherd had to lead them along some fairly difficult paths. Some of them went through dangerous forests where the wild animals hid so well. Some of them went up and down through really steep and dangerous canyons with trails that had sharp cliffs on both sides. Once in a while, one of the sheep would miss a step and fall from the path. This happened a lot on one of the trails the shepherds used a lot, leading from the dry lands around Jericho to the green pasture lands up near Bethlehem and Jerusalem. That trail went through a valley that was dangerous, filled with wild animals, thieves, and steep, narrow paths. The valley was called “the Shadow of Death.” As careful as they were, sometimes a sheep would lose its footing on that dangerous path and fall from the trail into the ravines. The shepherd would take his staff, and using the long pole like a fishhook, would reach down into the crevice, reach the hook around the leg of the poor sheep, and gently lift him back up onto the trail. As he led his flock toward the water, he was hoping to avoid those kinds of nasty surprises.

Last night before he went to sleep, he had walked around to find the safest path to lead his flock to the water. Not only was it important to find the safest path but he had to be very careful to find the right watering hole as well. His sheep did not swim well, especially now that their woolly coats were filling out so well. If they fell into the water, they would soak it up like a sponge, and he might not be able to pull them back out, even with his sturdy hooked staff. He had to search around to find quiet waters, a place where the currents were still, where they could safely drink with no risk of being caught and pulled away. He knew this land very well, including the perfect watering spot, right next to a very nice pasture where his sheep could graze today. After planning his path last night, he was ready to lead them there this morning.

While his sheep enjoyed their morning drinks, the shepherd walked around the nearby pasture. He walked slowly, closely examining every inch of ground. He stopped to pick up any sharp stones or briars that might cut the soft noses of his sheep. He looked for those plants that might be poisonous or that might cause illness. He looked for scorpions, snakes, or insect nests that might harm his flock as they innocently grazed in this place. There were enemies everywhere, and it was his responsibility to prepare their dinner table, right in the middle of all of them.

After they had their fill of water, the sheep began to move to the pasture and settle in for their normal day of doing what sheep do. The shepherd found a tree nearby where he could see the entire pasture and settled down in the shade, keeping one eye alert for any danger to his flock.

One of the things he was watching for was to make sure none of the sheep wandered away from the flock and got lost. Sometimes, a sheep might find a really great patch of food, and with her head down, just keep eating and walking until she’d have followed the path away from the rest of the flock. If that single sheep got far enough away from the shepherd with his sling and staff, it became the perfect victim for enemies hiding nearby. When the shepherd found that one of his sheep was missing, his one goal was to find that lost sheep. The rest of the flock were relatively safe together, so the shepherd focused on finding the lost one. Any shepherd worth his salt would search until that lost sheep was found. Fortunately today, he found it just over the hill and quickly guided it back to the safety of the flock.

Once in a while, the shepherd might find a sheep that belonged to someone else, one that had wandered off. In that case, he took that sheep into his own fold and cared for it as it if were his own, until he could find the sheep’s true owner.

Any lost sheep was welcomed into his fold. No sheep was left to stand alone and risk the dangers of not being a part of the flock.

None of these sheep were actually his. It was quite common that shepherds did not own any sheep of their own. Some did, but they were rare. Most shepherds spent their time taking care of sheep that belonged to someone else. At the beginning of grazing season, the shepherd would travel from place to place, collecting the sheep that were being entrusted to him. He would then lead them to the grazing lands where he would be responsible for them until safely returning them to their masters several weeks or months later. They would return healthy and covered in valuable wool, and the shepherd would receive his reward for all of his hard work. If he lost any sheep, he would have to pay for them out of his reward. More importantly, the shepherd who lost sheep would soon be seen as untrustworthy and would quickly find himself without any owners willing to hire him.

Protecting the sheep was more than just a financial issue for the shepherd. The shepherd who did not protect his flock was not a shepherd. He might be considered a hired hand, someone who was paid to do something and who may or may not do it very well. But if he truly wanted to be a shepherd, his number one responsibility was to take care of each and every one of the sheep that was entrusted to his care — even if that meant risking his own life to protect them. Even if it meant placing himself, his sling, and his staff between his flock and an attacking mountain lion or band of thieves. If he did not protect his flock, he was not a shepherd.

There were no highly visible, great rewards for being a shepherd. The pay was fine but it was not enough with which to build a comfortable home. Besides, since he was out taking care of someone else’s sheep for months at a time, taking care of a nice home of their own was just not feasible for most shepherds. It wasn’t a job that earned high levels of respect in the community, other than from sheep owners and other shepherds. Most shepherds were really good with sheep but not always all that good with people. That’s probably why they enjoyed spending so much time out on their own, up in the hills, away from the rest of the community. Shepherds were always there, a part of the community but never really one of those groups. Shepherds were merely seen as a group of people who took care of someone else’s sheep.

As our shepherd sat under his shade tree, an interesting thing happened. Throughout the day, one by one, each sheep would move apart from the flock and walk over to stand next to the shepherd. He would quietly talk with them, scratch their ear or rub their belly; he knew what each of them liked. After a few minutes of attention, the sheep would then return to the flock and continue their day. The sheep knew their shepherd’s voice and could tell his voice apart from that of other shepherds. Even in the confusion that happened when two flocks happened to meet on the same trail, the sheep knew their shepherd’s voice and could easily follow him. He was their shepherd.

As the sun began to fade in late afternoon, the shepherd led the flock back to the still waters again, and then back to the stone sheepfold. As the sheep lined up to enter the narrow gate, the shepherd knelt down and examined each of them as they entered, one by one. He called them by name and rubbed some healing oil on any cuts or scrapes they might have gotten on their soft noses during the day. After each sheep was safely inside the fold, the shepherd piled the briars up tightly at the entrance to form the secure gate. He then walked all around the sheepfold, securing any loose stones, and stacking more briars on top of the wall where it might be needed to discourage any predators from trying to jump the wall. Only then, after seeing that his flock was safe for the night, did the shepherd find his comfortable spot in the little stone tower he had built nearby, and settle in for the night.

As through the day, he spends the night with one eye resting, while the other keeps a sharp look for anything that might threaten his sheep. It is just what he did.

When the sun came up on this particular morning, it was different. It was the end of the grazing season, and after checking each of his sheep, he led them from the waters, back down the long trail toward the city. One by one, he presented each sheep to their owners, until he had safely returned each and every sheep that had been entrusted to him. He felt the weight of the pouch he carried, now filled with the coins from his payment for the past months’ work. But more than that, he felt a warmth inside knowing he had done what he had set out to do. He had taken care of each and every one of his sheep. He was no hired hand. He was a shepherd.

As he made his way back to his humble home, he noticed the group of people standing down by the sea. They were standing and sitting along the shore, all listening to one guy who was talking with them. As he walked nearer, he remembered things he had heard about this man — this teacher. As a shepherd, he really didn’t know or care much for things like prophets and miracle workers. His main concern was his sheep. Don’t misunderstand, he was a man of faith. You had to have a strong faith to stand in front of real danger holding only a sling and a stick, but his faith was not the sort you spent a lot of time talking about and debating. You either stood up to your enemies, or you didn’t. It was a pretty basic faith.

He walked toward the back of the crowd, more out of curiosity than anything else. As he moved closer in order to be able to hear better, he suddenly found himself standing in the middle of a group of people who did not seem very happy to see him. They were dressed in stylish robes, covered in fine linens and jewels, and smelled like they had been doused in expensive perfumes. They were all looking at him with disdain. He was as clean as anyone could be who had spent the past months living in the mountains with sheep. But he had not been fortunate enough to have covered his body with expensive oils as these priests had, so in comparison, yes, perhaps he did stand out a bit from that crowd.

Perhaps it was the look they gave the shepherd, or the hesitance he saw in the shepherd’s eyes that caught the speaker’s attention. Whatever it was, it was at that point that Jesus looked right at them and said, “I am the good shepherd.” As he looked directly at the poor shepherd, he went on to say things like “the good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep” (v. 11), “I know my own sheep, and my own know me” (v. 14), and “I lay down my life for my sheep” (v. 15).

His gaze switched to those nice-smelling priests when he said, “The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away,” and “the hired hand does not care for the sheep” (vv. 12-13).

Every eye in the crowd was now on these two groups: the rich, powerful, perfumed priests, and this fresh-from-the-hills shepherd, just waiting to see what was going to happen next. It was clear that Jesus had struck a nerve somewhere. The earlier smiles and looks of self-satisfaction on the faces of the priests had changed to a look of raw anger, as though they were trying to figure out who they should destroy first: this little sheepherder or this rabble-rousing preacher.

Before they could make up their minds, Jesus pushed things further by saying, “So there will be one flock, one shepherd” (v. 16). Now he had the priests’ full attention but they were no longer listening to what he said. They had already made up their minds. In a matter of seconds, Jesus had declared that the shepherd was of more value than the priest. The shepherd was trustworthy, and the priest was a hired hand.

And “one flock”? Never. Religious law was clear that there was a distinction between those who were clean and those who were unclean. There was not “one flock” and there never would be. They were the leaders of the true flock, and they had the power and authority behind them to make sure that it continued to be that way.

They looked at the shepherd and still saw him as harmless, meaningless, and of no real threat. The threat was in front of them. With the look of blood in their eyes, they glared at this preacher who now called himself the “good shepherd.” He would have to go.

While all of this was burning through the minds of the priests, scribes, and Pharisees, the shepherd calmly moved back through the crowd, already thinking of the work he had to get done today. He had sheep to collect, to take back to the hills, and to care for. It is what the good shepherd does.