ONE FLOCK, ONE SHEPHERD
Rick Ezell is an author and a Baptist minister. He’s also the publisher of a devotional guide called the One Minute Uplift newsletter. In a recent article, he wrote:
Faithfulness is not just a religious duty that we employ on Sundays or when we are supposed to be Christian. When we tire of our roles and responsibilities, it helps to remember that God has planted us in a certain place and told us to be a dependable and reliable accountant, or teacher, or parent, or engineer. Christ expects us to be faithful where he puts us.
In the 11th century, King Henry III of Bavaria grew tired of royal court life and all the pressures of being a king. He made application to Prior Richard – that’s Prior Richard, not Richard Prior, by the way – he made application to Prior Richard at a local monastery, asking to be accepted as a monk and to spend the rest of his life in the monastery.
“Your Majesty,” said Prior Richard, “do you understand that the pledge here is one of obedience? That will be hard for you because you have been a king.”
“I understand,” the king replied. “The rest of my life, I will be obedient to you, as Christ leads you.”
“Then I will tell you what to do,” said Prior Richard. “Go back to your throne and serve faithfully in the place where God has put you.”
In other words, “Bloom where you’re planted.” God has called each of us to be a part of the body of Christ we call the church. More specifically, God has called most of us here to be a part of the First Presbyterian Church of Meadville. The question is, what does that really mean to us? What does it mean to be a part of the church?
In the passage we read from the gospel according to John, Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd.” He was speaking to the Pharisees. Later he added, “And I have other sheep that are not of this fold; I must bring them also, and they will heed my voice. So there shall be one flock, one shepherd.”
The “other sheep” to whom Jesus referred were the Gentiles. Jesus came, first of all, to the children of Israel. But then he broadened his vision to include those outside the nation of Israel. Because of Jesus Christ, we now count ourselves as numbered among the chosen people of God. Because of Jesus Christ, we are now a part of that one flock that has one shepherd – what we call the Church.
So what does that say about denominationalism? If there’s really supposed to be one flock following one shepherd, have we confounded God’s plan by dividing ourselves into Presbyterians and Catholics and Lutherans and Methodists? Is denominationalism a clouding of Christ’s vision?
I think denominationalism IS a clouding of Christ’s vision. It’s a clouding of Christ’s vision, that is, when one particular church claims to have sole access to God – when one particular church claims to have found its way to the true apostolic church of the first century. Yet denominationalism can be a fulfillment of Christ’s vision, too. Denominationalism is a fulfillment of Christ’s vision when it recognizes that our God is a God of diversity, and that what brings one person closer to God may not work for another. As Jesus said, there will be one flock with one shepherd, but there are other folds. Pardon my use of a military analogy, but, just as one nation’s army can have many separate battalions, it’s still the same army if they obey the same supreme commander.
Jesus Christ is that supreme commander. Jesus Christ is the good shepherd. If we heed his voice, then we are a part of that one flock following one shepherd, regardless of our denominational loyalty. Thus, the real question is, whose voice do we really heed?
Are all of you familiar with the name Paul Harvey? Paul Harvey died on the 28th of February at the age of 90. A number of years ago, Paul Harvey presented an interesting interpretation of whose voice we tend to heed. It was entitled, “If I Were the Devil,” and it goes like this:
If I were the Prince of Darkness, I’d want to engulf the whole world in darkness. And I’d have a third of its real estate and four-fifths of its population, but I wouldn’t be happy until I had seized the ripest apple on the tree – THEE!
So I’d set about however necessary to take over the United States. I’d subvert the churches first. I’d begin with a campaign of whispers. With the wisdom of a serpent I would whisper to you as I whispered to Eve, “Do as you please!”
To the young I would whisper that the Bible is a myth. I would convince them that humanity created God, instead of the other way around. I would confide that what’s bad is good and what’s good is…SQUARE. And the old I would teach to pray, after me, “Our Father, who art in Washington…”
And then I’d get organized. I’d educate authors in how to make lurid literature exciting so that anything else would appear dull and uninteresting. I’d threaten T.V. with dirtier movies, and vice-versa. I’d peddle narcotics to whomever I could, especially children.
If I were the devil I’d soon have families at war with themselves, churches at war with themselves, and nations at war with themselves…until each in turn was consumed. And with promises of higher ratings I’d have mesmerizing media fanning the flames.
If I were the devil, I would encourage schools to refine young intellects, but neglect to discipline emotions – just let them run wild – until before you knew it, you’d have drug-sniffing dogs and metal detectors at every schoolhouse door.
Within a decade, I’d have prisons overflowing. I’d have judges promoting pornography. Soon I could evict God from the courthouse, then from the schoolhouse, and then from the houses of Congress. And in his own churches I would substitute psychology for theology and deify science. I would lure priests and pastors into misusing boys and girls and church money. If I were the devil, I’d make the symbol of Easter an egg, and the symbol of Christmas a bottle.
If I were the devil I’d take from those who have and give to those who want it until I had killed the incentive of the ambitious. And what’ll you bet, I couldn’t get whole states to promote gambling as the way to get rich. I would caution against extremes – in hard work, in patriotism, in moral conduct. I would convince the young that marriage is old-fashioned – that “swinging” is more fun – that what you see on T.V. is the way to be. And then I could undress you in public, and I could lure you into bed with diseases for which there are no cures. In other words, if I were the devil, I’d just keep right on doing what he’s doing. GOOD DAY!
Now I’m not asking you to buy into everything Paul Harvey said in his essay. Just think about it. Whose voice do we tend to heed?
It is not easy to heed – or even hear – the voice of the Good Shepherd. One of the few places we can still find his voice any more is in the worship service, but even that can get pushed to the back burner as our lives become more and more involved in other things. We gather to worship because of the love God has shown to us. Again, we gather to worship because of the love God has shown to us. We gather not because God somehow needs our flattering words, but because we are in desperate need of God.
I think of a child as the day draws to a close. He’s tired, and ready for bed, but hasn’t yet given up for the night. He curls up on the couch with his head in his mother’s lap. No words are spoken, but as he lays there, his mother gently strokes his tousled hair. The boy feels a deep sense of peace, resting in the haven of his mother’s love. Pretty soon, he’s asleep – having drifted there amid utter serenity.
That’s how we need God. God calms our fears, God eases our burdens, God sends us off to sleep by the peace of his touch. Yet it won’t always be God who touches us. Sometimes he sends others to do his bidding.
Once upon a time, there was a church that appeared to be really thriving. They had about 500 people in worship on Sunday morning, they had numerous outreach ministries in their own community, and lots of people were coming to Christ and to church through their ministry. The problem was that the church was not growing in numbers. People were leaving just as quickly as they were coming in. The church began to do some research on the people who were leaving, and they found that the vast majority who left were not attending another church. They just stopped going to church altogether. Because of their inability to keep the people who were joining the church, they were actually de-evangelizing the neighborhood. Those who were leaving were almost impossible to bring back into any community of faith.
The senior minister realized that something had to be done, so he called up the last 12 people to join the church and invited them to dinner. After dinner, he sat them down and asked if they wanted to know the future. Of course, they all said, “Yes!” So he said to them, “Statistically speaking, in the next two or three years, two of your marriages will have broken up, and the shame will cause you to leave the church. Three of you will have a conflict with someone else in the church, and you will leave the church. One will have a tragedy, lose faith, and leave. Two will have a moral failing and leave, and two will just lose interest and drift away. In two or three years, out of this group of twelve, only two of you will be going to church, and only one of you at this church.”
There was dead silence in the room. All of these wide-eyed Christians wanted to say, as Jesus’ disciples said at the Last Supper, “Surely not I, Lord!” Then one of them spoke up and said, “What can we do to change the statistics?” The minister replied, “You can get together as a group and decide that you’re not going to let anyone go without a fight.”
That is exactly what they did. These “strangers” formed a small group and supported one another through the tragedies, through the conflicts, and through the failings. In four years, only one had left the church. The church went from losing 11 out of every 12 members to losing only one. And it was all because they were there for one another. If we can’t be there for one another in the church, then what’s the point?
So let’s go back to our original question. We’ve been called to be a part of the body of Christ we call the church. What does that really mean to us?
It means that we’re a part of one flock with one shepherd. We hear his voice and we heed it. It means that God calms our fears, eases our burdens, and sends us off to sleep by the peace of his touch. But it also means we’ve got people around us who sincerely care for us and who would do anything in their power to help us. And truth be told, that just might be the best part of all. Amen.
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