Moved by His Voice

A Sermon by Andrew Colman based on John 10:22-30

Our Gospel reading takes us to the pasture this evening. The Jewish religious leaders were grilling Jesus in the temple, and they asked him whether he was the Messiah. He knew there was nothing that he could say to help them understand, so he answered, as was his custom, with a parable of sorts.

“The works that I do in my Father's name testify to me; but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.”

There is an important detail here about sheep and their shepherds. At the end of the night, when the shepherds bring the sheep in, they bring them to a sheepfold—a large enclosed area in front of a house. By the end of the night, there may be many different flocks all sharing that one space.

When morning comes and it’s time for the flocks to head back to pasture, each shepherd simply calls. The sheep recognize the voice of their shepherd and follow him out of the sheepfold. The sheep that don’t recognize the voice, that don’t belong to him, will not follow; they stay behind. For those of us who are not shepherds, this parable sounds a bit ephemeral. But it is actually very concrete.

Jesus is saying that there is a bond between him and those who follow him that is more of a reflex than an entirely conscious decision. But a part of what it means to be reflexive is that it is, in a way, our action out of our control—in this case, they are led by Christ.

And maybe here’s the thing. In a world so full of noise—so many voices telling us who we should or could be, what we should want—it’s not surprising that we can feel scattered at times.

The shepherd’s voice does not shout for our attention but calls us by name. Not into quick fixes, but into belonging. Into a flock. A community shaped not by fads and sameness or strength, but by grace and being part of the flock for which the shepherd will leave the 99 to find the one.

And this is something that we cannot hear enough of right now. These days, with the click of a mouse, we can find a group that aligns with how we think the world ought to be,

and yet people are still feeling more isolated and alone, and the world seems to be becoming more and more divided.

But that’s no mystery because these groups are made up of people. As much as we all think that everyone in a group will hold all the same values as us, we all will hold differing beliefs in one way or another. What’s worse is that we all mess up and do not even hold true to the values we hope we all hold in common. That’s the human condition.

This is probably a part of why we end up feeling isolated and alone. Either we hold back. We don’t let each other in. The more we expect—truly expect—from others, the more vulnerable we become. Or we do—we do let people in, and we get hurt.

A real sense of belonging in this way can end up being very difficult.

This, however, is not what Jesus is calling us to. We are not called to be a group of people held together by common identity or rules—we are called to hear and respond and follow our Good Shepherd’s voice.

Charles Taylor, reflecting on the nature of the Church, describes it not as a group, but as a network (a community) connected not by shared category, but by mutual love, by agape—a different kind of love and response. The Church is not meant to be a perfect structure, but a living, breathing network/community of people who listen to the Shepherd’s voice and respond with grace to one another.

Communities in the church—be it congregations like this, small groups, Bible studies—on the best of days see and hear and work for the good not of the group but of the Kingdom. That means feeding, being in conversation with those who are not in the group—who might even disagree with the way you think things should go entirely—but the bond is not about agreeing with each other, it is about responding to each other within our diversity with love.

Taylor likens it to the Samaritan who crosses boundaries to care for the wounded man—not because he “ought” to, but because he is moved by love, agape. This love, Taylor says, creates a new kind of belonging that comes from God. (Taylor, A Secular Age, p. 740)

That is shown to us in the life and work of the Good Shepherd: those who hear his voice are drawn not into groups that hope to think alike, but into relationship. This is possible because God came down and chose to be a part of God’s own creation, to let his voice be known, to be part of the network of people that is the Church, so that he could knock down the first domino, per se, of the work of agape on earth.

As we care for each other, it is not on our own that we are leading each other to still waters, the green pastures, or setting a table when we see that someone in our community is in the throes of the enemy, and we bless them with oil—but it is of God. Because when we belong to the Shepherd, the one who gave everything for us, and do not try to be owners of our own selves—we respond from the heart of God, not that of the world.

The life of the Church is different from the life of the world because its foundation is love: God the Father, in whose glorious creation we live and move and have our being; Jesus, our Good Shepherd—the one who came down to show the way to live and bring us back to God; and the Holy Spirit—the one who helps us hear and see the work that the Shepherd has for us to do this very day—is our structure, our foundation.

That is the work of the Good Shepherd. May we listen to his voice and find ourselves being led to the still waters.

The life of the Church is not something we hold together by ourselves—it’s something we’re drawn into by the voice of the Shepherd. We are not meant to journey alone. The green pastures, the still waters, the table set in the midst of struggle—these are gifts we are led into together, that we lead each other into as we see and hear by the working of the Holy Spirit.

What makes the Church beautiful, on its best day, is not that we agree on everything, but that we stay at the table with one another because we have chosen to follow the same voice. That we choose to listen—not only for Christ’s voice, but for it in each other. That we carry one another when the pull of the world is strong.

This is the work of the Good Shepherd. He is calling us to be a part of his flock that doesn’t scatter but rests on grace. On belonging that begins and ends in God.

And in all of it—may we be led, again and again, by the One who calls us by name, each of us together, our Good Shepherd.