I AM the Good Shepherd

Scripture Lessons: John 10: 11-18 and Psalm 23 Sermon title: I AM the Good Shepherd Preached on June 27, 2021 Thank you for being willing to go out on a limb with me. I know that many of you have that memorized. Others, like me need to cheat. Memorizing has always been a little difficult for me. It’s one of those things that makes me so nervous that my brain sort of short-circuits. I remember vividly an assignment to memorize and recite the Emancipation Proclamation in 9th grade history class. At some point during my recitation, I drifted into the Pledge of Allegiance. Anything like that ever happen to you? A lot of us have a sad public speaking story. I heard a statistic, that there are more people whose number one fear is public speaking than anything else. That means that there are more people whose number one fear is public speaking than there are whose number one fear is death. Quoting this statistic, comedian Jerry Seinfeld said, “That means most people would rather be the one in the casket than the one giving the eulogy.” I don’t know how exactly to make sense of that, but I believe it, because what’s true is that fears don’t have to make complete sense to hold us captive. We can be afraid of things that aren’t even real because fear isn’t entirely rational. The question I pose to you this morning is, what do you do about it? What or who bring you comfort? Years ago, before we had kids, we had a dog we treated like a kid named Ramona. Ramona was scared to death of thunder. During one thunderstorm we couldn’t find her and thought maybe she had run away. Searching the house, we finally found her nestled with some dirty clothes in the front-loading washing machine. Have you ever heard of a dog doing that? It sounds crazy, but then you think, how much safer the washing machine is during a storm than the couch. Now our dogs just snuggle up real close to us on the couch when they’re afraid, and probably, if a tree fell on the house or something like that, they’d be better off in a washing machine. But more than that, if there’s a scary storm moving over our house, the whole household might end up on the basement couch: two dogs, two girls, two adults, all together. I don’t know what any of them think Sara or I could do for them during a thunderstorm, still, they’re there with us because they’re scared and being close to us makes them feel better. That might be true in your house too. Do you have dogs or cats or kids who huddle up next to you when they’re scared? And is that true of you as well? Is there someone whose lap you remember crawling up into? Or is there a person, who just the smell of his aftershave, makes you feel safe? Is there a house that makes you breathe a sigh of relief once you walk through its doors? Does the smell of mothballs or ivory soap remind you of a person who made you feel comfortable enough to really talk about what was bothering you? “I AM the good shepherd,” he said, and his presence makes his sheep feel safe. This is the fourth Sunday in a row of a sermon series focused on the ways Jesus describes himself, and what I’ll always remember about this “I AM” statement, the fourth of eight that we’re focusing on this summer, is that Pope Francis once said, “A shepherd must always smell like his sheep.” What he means by this is that he’s close enough to smell like us. That when we’re scared, he’s near, unlike the hired hand who runs away to save himself when trouble looms. It’s because of this proximity, his familiarity, that he can cast out our fear. That’s a wonderful truth, which matters today, because today, there’s a lot to be afraid of, but what do we do about it? These days it’s like the whole world is swallowed up in fear. Just think about how often you’ve been seeing words like stress and anxiety. Those are two palatable words that adults are willing to use to talk about their fear. Grownups aren’t supposed to be afraid. No one likes to admit that they’re scared, so we use words like stress and anxiety, even though anxiety is just fear essentially. However, it’s worse than fear because anxiety is a feeling that fills your body without a clear source. Anxiety is fear without knowing what you’re afraid of. It’s always better to put a word to it or a cause. Parents know that, and so they’ll always ask their kids, “what are you so scared of?” On the other hand, sometimes the girls will notice that I’m tense and kind of quiet. They’ll ask me what’s wrong, so I’ll tell them I’m just a little stressed. It seems like I used to be stressed about certain things: sermons, projects, staffing, annual reviews. Lately some days I’m just stressed, and I can’t seem to put into words what it is that I’m stressed about. I just am. Can you relate? It’s a little bit crazy to be afraid without being able to say what we’re afraid of, but you can imagine how we got this way. When we were kids maybe we’d wake up from a nightmare and would call for one of our parents. If we were lucky one of them would rush in. Mom or Dad would ask, “Honey, what’s the matter?” “I had a nightmare,” we’d respond. “What was it about?” one of our parents would ask. And this is kind of an embarrassing question to answer. Are you just supposed to come out and say, “I was in my classroom but only had on my underwear”? Can you just say out loud, as a grown-up, “I was being followed by a legion of life-sized caterpillars who were trying to eat me”? I guess it depends. How well do you know the person who asked? Can you trust him with your fears? Can you speak it out loud in her presence? I hope you have someone you can talk to about the deepest concerns of your heart. Life gives us heavy things to carry around, while so many people won’t let anyone share the burden. Why? Because we don’t always trust the smell of the people who are asking. There’s a virus out there, sort of. Who can you talk to about it? I don’t know. That’s a scary thing to just start talking about, because if you drive into the city, they’re scared of you if you don’t have a mask on. If you drive north of here, they think you’re crazy if you’re still wearing one. Some are watching the spread of the Delta Variant while others are obsessed with getting a good deal on a Delta flight. Jobs are changing, the economy is changing, people are moving, so much is up in the air, and it’s hard to know exactly what the future holds. More than that, it’s hard to know who you can trust to talk to about your worries for the future. “I AM the good shepherd.” What does he mean by that? He means, I’m with you. If you’re scared, come on and climb up on the sofa with me, and tell me what you’re so afraid of. I won’t laugh. I’ll just listen. I won’t judge. I’ll just be here. You can tell me. “I AM the good shepherd,” he said, and he can cast out our fear so that we can get on moving towards where we are destined to go. Yesterday I read about a child of our church who hit a big milestone. James Whittingham is a baseball player and early this season he made a goal for himself: 100 strikeouts. Those strikeouts are good because he’s a pitcher. That’s a big goal that he accomplished this weekend, and I admire him for it, not just that he did it, but that he was willing to say what he wanted to do out loud. The danger in saying something like that our loud is that you might not ever do it. Voicing your dream is a risky thing because you don’t know how people might respond, and once you’ve put it out there some people will be looking for you to fail. That’s just the truth of the matter, however, if you aren’t willing to say where you want to go, I’m not sure you’re very likely to ever get there. If fear holds you captive, you’re like our dog Junebug who stands at the top of the stairs, too afraid to walk down them to get to where her food bowl is. Once again, we’ve been given a ribbon. This time the ribbon is green. Why? To represent the green pasture that the good shepherd leads his sheep to. Today I invite you to write a word down on your green ribbon a place you want to go, a thing that you want to do, a state of wellbeing that you hope to achieve. Whatever or wherever it is, write it down, and as you write it down imagine that you’re in a place where you’re safe, like a couch or a lap or in someone’s arms where you can smell their smell and sense their presence and be reminded that fear is just a feeling which only holds us captive so long as we let it. It happened to me four years ago that fear was cast out enough for me to dream by a smell. Four years ago, last weekend I was in the final stages of accepting this position to come and be one of your pastors. In order for a pastor to do that, he or she has to be examined by the presbytery to make sure everyone understands what they’re getting into. This Presbytery was worried that I didn’t understand that the church I’d be serving in was a different place from the church I grew up in. They were worried I didn’t know what I was getting into. Of course, they were right in a sense. A lot has changed over the last several years since I graduated high school, but I told that Presbytery, that this church still smells the same. I’m not kidding. There’s a stairwell in this church that smells exactly the same way now that it did when I was a kid going down to Sunday school, and four years ago that smell reminded me that the Good Shepherd I was introduced to in this church when I was a child is still with me and I don’t need to be held captive by my troubles and my fears. I remembered that this week. I had to remember it again, because it’s been a very hard year and half for me and for us all, though I’ve realized again recently that my fears are only holding me back if I let them. Sometimes I am so afraid that I forget who is with me, who is with us, and I fail to remember what’s been promised. Namely, that “nothing can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Not famine. Not hardship. Not powers. Not height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation. Not COVID, not politics, not division, not bad news. Nothing. Why? Because he is with us. And we are in his presence now, so write a dream, a hope, a place you want to go or a state of mind you hope to achieve. Write it down on your green ribbon and remember this: plenty of people had their doubts about us, but our church has just been voted the best place to worship in Cobb County for the third year in a row, because he is still with us, and fear will not stop us from getting anywhere we are destined to go. Where do you long to go? Who do you long to be? Free from fear, write it down, and as the wind blows through our ribbons, our prayers will be lifted to Almighty God. Amen.