Ezekiel 34:1-31 · Shepherds and Sheep
When Did We See You?
Ezekiel 34:1-31
Sermon
by King Duncan
Loading...

(Thanksgiving) The juxtaposition is startling--the Thanksgiving feast we have just enjoyed and our text for the day:

" . . . I was hungry and you fed me; I was thirsty and you gave me water; I was a stranger and you invited me into your homes; naked and you clothed me, sick and in prison and you visited me." (Mt. 25: 35-36 The Living Bible).

And yet what better day is there than this one--between the celebration of Thanksgiving, the one day when gluttony is transformed from a sin to a sacrament and Advent and Christmas, the season of our most conspicuous national consumption? What better day is there to remind ourselves of those persons in this world not as fortunate as we?

And we do need to remind ourselves.

We are much like Charlie Brown in the PEANUTS cartoon series. Lucy is seated comfortably in her ben bag chair watching television. She asks Charlie Brown:

"How about getting me a dish of ice cream? . . . Mint! Make sure it's mint!"

Charlie Brown returns with a dish of green ice cream. Lucy smiles and says, "Thank you."

Then her face is perplexed and she sticks out her tongue. "This doesn't taste like mint."

Charlie Brown replies, "All we had was vanilla . . . But you can do amazing things with a green felt tip." (1)

We are living in a time when many persons want to color reality with a green felt tip pen. It is almost heresy for an American to speak pessimistically about the problems of our society. Accentuate the positive. Ignore the gloomier aspects of the Gospel. Preach the empty tomb but not the crucified Christ. Concentrate on what is good about America. At all costs avoid becoming one of the nattering nabobs of negativism, as former Vice-President Spiro Agnew once termed them.

Now I am not a negative preacher, as you know. But there are hungry persons in this world. There are thirsty persons in this world. There are sick, naked, imprisoned persons in this world. And we need to be reminded. For the teaching of the Scripture is clear. If we ignore the least and the lowly, we ignore Christ.

Our text today is not on hunger, per se, but on sensitivity. Are we aware that all about us persons who are in need? "When did we see you hungry, or thirsty or naked or sick or in prison or lonely or afraid?" When did we see you depressed or on drugs or at your wit's end? When did we see you close yourself off from your friends or in grief from death or divorce? When did we see you fatherless and without a friend?

Jesus had no problem with the physically blind. It was the spiritually blind, the socially blind, the materially blind that he could not heal.

Lazarus sat at the rich man's gate, but the rich man never saw him. The Pharisees were within a stone's throw of the Kingdom, but because of their blindness, they could not find the door. Zaccheus climbed a sycamore tree in order that he might see. But it was while breaking bread in his own home with the Master that the scales were removed from his eyes.

And the question confronts us--do we see him? Really see him?

In 1953 there was a Baptist pastor in London riding on a subway. His name was Peter West. Like all clergymen in England he wore a clergy collar. He noticed that there was a man on the subway who looked at him with a very angry look.

Just before the man got off the subway, he said to Peter West, "You clergy really aren't much good. You don't do much to help anyone, and you are never there when we need you!"

Peter West was totally discouraged by the conversation. He went home and began looking around. Suddenly he saw the telephone on his desk in a new way. He began to envision something more that he could do.

He called his church leaders together. His idea was to use the telephone as a point of contact with hurting people in the community. While he was working long hours and doing all he could, he could train volunteers who would serve as listeners on the telephone line. It sounded like a great idea. They launched the very first telephone crisis-listening line in the world. They called it STS--Spiritual Telephone Service.

Soon the London newspapers picked up the story, and it was published across the land. It was a beautiful story about a Baptist pastor who wanted to serve the needs of his community.

A German television station caught the story, then a German newspaper, then a Swedish magazine published the story. Soon other telephone lines were opened; thousands of people were making calls and were being helped because the scales were lifted off of one pastor's eyes and he saw a need and filled it. He saw a hurt and healed it. But he was not alone. (2)

William Larimer Mellon, Jr., retired at the age of thirty-seven with everything one could want: family, money, prestige and a life of leisure and pleasure ahead of him.

One night he read a magazine article that was to change his life. It was about Dr. Albert Schweitzer who, years before, at the age of thirty, had put aside successful careers in music, writing and teaching to go to Africa as a medical missionary.

An idea began to grow in Mellon's mind. He read all he could find about Dr. Schweitzer, eventually corresponding with him. Then the day came when Mellon made his decision. He recalls: "I found Gwen (his wife) on a ladder doing homework. I went to her and blurted out, 'I think I'll go to medical school, then settle down somewhere that can use a good country doctor.'"

The rest is simply told. He went to Tulane University. On graduation, he decided to move into the disease-ridden tropics of Haiti. He became the chief doctor of the first hospital in that area, a hospital that was built with his money . . .

Thousands of other people read the same magazine article and put it aside, thanking God for such a man as Dr. Schweitzer and perhaps even praying that God would raise up other such people to serve Him. But for Mellon, this article was an awakening, a soul opening, a lifting of the veil, a skinning of the eyes of faith. (3)

When did we see you?

Jesus says to us, "Open your eyes . . . " It is not enough that we save ourselves.

There is no lasting satisfaction in simply seeking our own security. We are inextricably related to one another. We were not meant to go it alone. The poet was right: "No man is an island."

Years ago Charles L. Allen told a story from the life of Dr. Gunsaulus, a famous Chicago pastor, that we need to hear.

One Sunday morning while Dr. Gunsaulus was in his study writing a sermon, his nephew came in. The boy was a fine athlete about twenty-five years old, but he had never been quite able to find himself.

He noticed his uncle's sermon text, "For this cause came I into the world" (John 18:37). That is a statement of Jesus to Pilate.

The boy said, "Uncle, I wish I knew why I was born." That gave the preacher a chance to say a few words to him about life, and soon the boy went on his way.

While he was walking down the street he heard the fire engines. He noticed that the old Iroquois Theater was burning. In that fire more than five hundred people lost their lives. The boy rushed over, and when he arrived he saw a number of people gathered around a balcony window. Quickly he found a heavy plank, climbed on the building next to the theater and laid the plank across to that window. Then he stood in the window and helped many people across to safety. However, while he was working, a heavy timber fell on him and knocked him to the pavement below. Just before he died his uncle got to him and said, "Now you know why you were born. You were born to save those people."

The curtain drops on the story there. But several years later Dr. Gunsaulus was traveling in Europe.

One night he met a man in a hotel lobby, and in the ensuing conversation the preacher mentioned he was from Chicago, when the other man suddenly became hysterical and began to mutter something over and over. Another man came over and led him away.

Later Dr. Gunsaulus asked the third man what had caused the distressing scene. The man said it was a very sad case. He told Dr. Gunsaulus that his new acquaintance was in Chicago one Saturday and went to the old Iroquois Theatre. The theater caught fire but this man got out. However, to get out, he had to climb over many screaming and fear-crazed people.

Though he himself was not harmed he became insane thinking about the experience. As a result, he fell into the habit of saying over and over, "I saved nobody but myself. I saved nobody but myself." (4) There is that question again, "When did we see you?" My purpose this morning is not to lay a guilt trip on any of us. It is just that the Scripture beckons me as your pastor to remind you and to remind myself as well, who we are and what we are about. We are those who have been fed by the tender hand of the Shepherd. That is how Ezekiel puts it:

For the Lord God says: I will search and find my sheep . . . I will be the Shepherd of my sheep, and cause them to lie down in peace . . . I will seek my lost ones, those who strayed away, and bring them safely home again. I will put splints and bandages upon their broken limbs and heal the sick. (Ezekiel 34: 11,15,16, THE LIVING BIBLE)

We are those who have experienced the Shepherd's tender love. And we cannot be happy until we share that love with someone else.

There is a wonderful fable that tells of a young girl who was walking through a meadow when she saw a butterfly impaled upon a thorn. Very carefully she released it and the butterfly started to fly away. Then it came back and changed into a beautiful good fairy.

"For your kindness," she said to the little girl, "I will grant you your fondest wish."

The little girl thought for a moment and replied, "I want to be happy." The fairy leaned toward her and whispered in her ear and then suddenly vanished.

As the girl grew, no one in the land was more happy than she. Whenever anyone asked her for the secret of happiness, she would only smile and say, "I listened to a good fairy."

As she grew quite old, the neighbors were afraid of the fabulous secret might die with her. "Tell us, please," they begged, "tell us what the fairy said."

The now lovely old lady simply smiled and said, "She told me that everyone, no matter how secure they seemed, had need of me!" (5)

That is the secret of life! Everyone you meet has need of the love that you have within you.

"When did we see you?" we ask. And he answers: everywhere. In the searching eyes of a hurting child, in the mocking sneer of an alienated youth, in the anger and emptiness of the middle- aged bore, in the clinging loneliness of the nursing home parlor.

When did we see you? Wherever there is hunger or thirst or nakedness or loneliness or fear or hurt, he is there.

Edward Everette Hale once put it like this:

Is there some desert or pathless sea
Where Thou, good God of angels, wilt send me?
Some oak for me to rend; some sod,
Some rock for me to break;
Some handful of His corn to take
And scatter far afield,
Till it, in turn, shall yield
Its hundredfold
Of grains of gold
To feed the waiting children of my God?
Show me the desert, Father, or the sea;
Is it Thine enterprise? Great God, send me.

When did we see you? Open your eyes, my friends. The opportunity to see Christ lies all about each of us.


1. Thanks to Dr. John Bardsley for this illustration.

2. From a sermon by Dr. Joe Harding.

3. Robert A. Raines, New Life in the Church (San Francisco: Harper & Row Pub., 1961).

4. Charles L. Allen, In Quest of God's Power (Old Tappan, NJ: Fleming H. Revell Co., 1952).

5. Leo Buscaglia, Loving Each Other.

Dynamic Preaching, Collected Sermons, by King Duncan