Sermon: Relational Identity

John 10:11-18

“I am the good shepherd.” This is a familiar passage about Jesus. Jesus is the Good Shepherd.

Sometimes familiar passages have a way of being so comfortable – so known – that it’s easy for us to just turn our ears off. “Yeah, yeah. . . we know this one already.” Our minds move on to other things and we miss what could be new and important insights for us right when they’re staring us in the face. It’s sad when we think we understand so much, that we convince ourselves there’s nothing more to learn. We stop going deeper.

So this passage is a familiar one. But maybe this one’s different. Even though it’s familiar, I have a feeling that our ears do stay open. That’s because Jesus’ words are comforting, and the imagery is grabbing. When I read or hear this passage, I think about all the ways that this imagery is filtered though our church life. I immediately see pictures in my mind of Sunday School classrooms when we were little – wall hangings of Jesus carrying a shepherd’s crook, little sheep splattering the hillside everywhere. This might be a familiar passage about Jesus, but it’s definitely a significant one. It’s made its way into our lives. And I guess that means I need to keep my ears open. There’s probably a lot to think about here.

And yeah, there’s a lot to think about here! This passage is so rich with meaning, that we could probably have a multitude of sermons from it tonight. (But don’t worry. . . You’re only getting one.) Passages like this one always bring an interesting situation for the preacher: There’s so much to say. Which direction do you go? Where does the passage lead us on this night, at this particular time in our lives?

Well, there’s a lot to think about here. First of all, let’s notice this: Jesus chooses to compare himself to a shepherd. We’ve romanticized shepherds in our cutesy Sunday School wall hangings. But shepherds were dirty – filthy! - they smelled like sheep of all things! – and not the fuzzy, fluffy, Snuggles-the- Fabric-Softener-Bear kind of sheep we might imagine, but real, dirty, bleating sheep, smelling of manure, hair, and mud. Jesus compares himself to a manure, hair, and mud kind of shepherd for the sheep.

And shepherds definitely weren’t romanticized in Jesus’ culture. They were looked down upon. Their work was considered to be menial and degrading for all the obvious reasons we’ve just mentioned. But Jesus chooses to relate himself to a shepherd. And as a shepherd, he chooses to relate himself to the sheep in a particular way. That’s one direction we could go tonight in our sermon.


And then, there’s this: Jesus talks about the difference between a shepherd and a hired hand. A shepherd relates to the sheep in a very different way than a hired hand relates to the sheep. A hired hand has little to no connection with those sheep. The hired hand is in it for the money, which means that the hired hand is basically in it for himself. And when trouble comes – when the wolf comes running into the flock – the hired hand proves that he’s been in this for himself. He runs. He flees the scene. He abandons the sheep at the first sign of danger. And why wouldn’t he? The sheep aren’t his. He doesn’t know them or have a deep relationship with them.

But the shepherd relates to the sheep in an entirely different way. He cares for them. He nurtures them. He strengthens them. He leads them. He chooses to exist in loving relationship with them. When trouble comes – when that wolf runs right into the middle of the flock – he chooses not to run. He protects the flock because he has chosen to be responsible toward the flock.

When trouble comes for us, where do we ultimately put our trust? Do we put our trust in those who are only in relationship with us as long as there’s “something in it for them?” Or do we put our deepest sense of trust in the Good Shepherd – and the good relationships he brings into our lives – the Good Shepherd, the one who has pledged to never desert us? Those are good questions too, and that’s a second direction our sermon could go tonight.


How about a third? Jesus isn’t a hired hand. He says, “I am the Good Shepherd.” What’s different about him? He says this: “I know my own, and my own know me.” That’s an incredible thought, isn’t it? I mean, we know that. “Yeah, yeah. . . Jesus knows us. . . blah, blah, blah. . .we’ve heard that before.” But before we think we understand that, let’s marvel about it for a moment. Jesus really knows us. And he loves us when he knows us. He loves us even when we’re like those dirty, smelly, bleating-out-loud sheep!

And here’s something beautiful I discovered this week when I was studying this passage: The Greek text says something so meaningful. Our translation says, “I know my own, and my own know me,” but the Greek text literally says, “I know the mine-ones, and I am known by the mine-ones, just as the Father knows me, even so I know the Father.” I know the mine-ones! That may sound a bit silly to our ears. But think about that! In knowing us, Jesus, the Good Shepherd, makes a claim on us. It’s not a possessive, “gotcha” kind claim, but a claim of deep, unconditional love. We are “mine-ones.” We are his. We belong to him. We can’t un-relate ourselves. Nothing we do – nothing we fail at – can un-mine us from him. We can’t undo his loving, relational way of living and knowing. He’s chosen us, and he knows us just as he and the Father know one another. Think about that! Incredible. Well guess what? That’s a third direction we could go in this sermon.


A fourth: Jesus says that he lays down his life for the sheep. It’s interesting that he doesn’t say he lays down his death for the sheep. He says he lays down his life down for the sheep. And here’s another interesting Greek tidbit. There’s a Greek preposition here that can mean “over” or “on-behalf-of.” So, we could translate Jesus as saying, “I lay down my life over the sheep.” That might give us a picture of protection – an interesting nuance. Or we could translate Jesus as saying, “I lay down my life on-behalf-of the sheep.” That gives us another picture, another nuance. Jesus lays down his life for our benefit. The Good Shepherd lovingly relates his life to our life. And just a few chapters later in John’s gospel, Jesus will say, “No one has greater love than this, than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” We are loved and valued beyond anything we can wrap out minds around! Incredible.

And in case we begin to feel full of ourselves in this process, Jesus has a reminder for us. We really are loved and valued beyond anything we can wrap our minds around, but that love doesn’t stop with us. There are others. Jesus has “other sheep that do not belong to this fold,” and he will bring them together so that there will be “one flock” and “one shepherd.” Jesus has said “yes” to us. He has chosen us. And he has said “yes” beyond us. He has chosen others beyond us. And if he is our Good Shepherd in loving relationship with us, that means we are in relationship with those others too. The question is, “How will we choose to relate to them?” Again, deep meaning, and yet again, another direction we could go in this sermon.


So, a confession. I’ve just committed a grave homiletical sin. I’ve just done what preachers aren’t supposed to do. I’ve moved us in too many directions. My professors always taught me that we’re supposed to focus on one main thought. I’ve just given us four, and of course, there could be others. But I think there is a common thread through them all: Jesus chooses to relate to us as a shepherd, Jesus chooses not to desert us like hired hand, Jesus chooses to claim us as “mine-ones,” and Jesus chooses to lay down his life for us and for others beyond us. All of these things are about relationship. They’re all about Jesus choosing to live in loving relationship with us. A preaching faux-pas perhaps, but good news nonetheless. And good news we can act on.

Christianity is so relational! It’s in everything. Our faith starts with the belief in a Triune God. God is absolutely one, and yet, God somehow mysteriously exists as a community. And we’re invited into that community. We aren’t God, but we’re really brought into the life of God.

And if we’re God’s people – if we’re the sheep of a relational shepherd – we’re called to mirror God’s choice of us. We’re called to choose to live in relationship with others too, with those in our fold and with those who exist outside our fold. We’re connected to everyone. We’re in relationship with the whole big picture.


I want to tell you something amazing that happened here last week. I want to tell you a collective, relational story about a young 21 year old guy named Michael.* Michael came to UPC three weeks ago to our Tuesday morning assistance program. He talked to Bobbie Sanders, and then Bobbie sent him to me. Michael told me a true story that was pretty gut-wrenching.

As Michael was growing up, his Dad was never around. And when he was 14, his Mom abandoned him and his two younger siblings in order to continue her drug addiction. The three kids moved in with his grandmother, but she died one year later. That meant that Michael was 15 years old and completely alone. He had nowhere to turn. So he did what a lot of 15 year old kids in his situation would choose to do. He got involved in some gang activity. It provided some protection and some sense of belonging – two things that he desperately needed.

And at some point in the timeline, Michael’s younger brother joined the rival gang. Not a good situation. And his brother rose up in the ranks of this rival gang and did a lot of damage to Michael’s gang. And eventually, Michael was put in a terrible situation. The members of his gang told him that he had to kill his brother. And this was something he was unwilling to do. This was now an issue of loyalty. They told him, “You’ve got three days or it’s you.” So he did the only thing he could do. He fled. He left for another city in Texas and got an apartment there, but members of the gang found him. He ended up in Austin because a pastor gave him a bus ticket. He knew no one, and for the first time in his life, he was homeless. All he wanted was a chance to better his life and plunge himself deeply into the life of a church. It was a difficult story.

And then last Sunday night, he ended up at Taize. He didn’t even know that we had an evening worship service. He just wanted to see if anyone was here. And after the service, we talked again in my office. He had been at ARCH, the main homeless shelter in Austin, the night before, and someone had recognized him. He was in danger again.

To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure of what to do. But I remembered that we had some left over money for the $10 Mission Project. For some reason, I had a gut feeling about a particular church I know in a different city across the country, and I felt that we should buy him a bus ticket to that city, where no members of the gang would be and where he could get involved in the life of that church. He said he was willing to go. We got the bus ticket, and he was ready to leave at 4:30 in the afternoon on Monday.

But before he left, I had an e-mail from Merrit. She had asked if she could bring him some food for the road. I was very touched when I came into my office to find a grocery bag full of food that would last him a week.

I called Sarah*, one of my best friends from that city, who goes to that church. I simply told her about the situation. She said, “Do you want me to do anything?” I said, “No, not really. I just want you to know.” But she told me to give Michael her work number. She would give him a homeless guide to the city and get him plugged into the church.

On Tuesday at 5:30, Michael made it to the new place. He went to the local homeless shelter and called Sarah very quickly. She in turn called the inner-city pastor of her church. And he and the elders of that church got Michael his own transitional housing the next day.

Today, one week later after our Taize service, Michael is in a safe city, with safe housing, and is worshiping in a safe church that would bend over backwards to care for him. I have to tell you that I’ve been amazed. I don’t know exactly what will happen next, but I’ve been blown away at how relational all of this has been. I believe that God has been shepherding Michael and us, simply nudging us to do a little. Bobbie sensed a nudge and sent him to me. . . I listened. . . Michael sensed a nudge to come to the church last Sunday. . .We bought him a bus ticket. . Merrit gave a gift of food. . . Sarah made contacts. . . A pastor got him housing. . . a whole church is coming around him. . . So relational. It’s all God, and yet, God has really used each one of us to do our part. It’s so incredible when we think about it.

And who knows who God will choose to reach – who God will choose to shepherd – simply when we open our eyes realize to see that we’re related to other people in the fold. What will you do with the $10 Mission Project? Or how about a new set of students who will come into this place after the summer is over? How will God relate them to you? How are you already related to them, and who will you be for them as leaders of this ministry next year? How will we be shepherded by God in and through one another? These are important questions.

And they’re open ended ones. Until then, let us keep our ears open. Let us seek understanding. Let us know our Good Shepherd more deeply, and let us serve one another in relational love. Amen.

-Renée Roederer, Campus Minister

*Names have been changed.