Loving Everybody and Everything

​Once again, the opening prayer for our service this morning sets the stage for everything that follows. This morning we prayed, “O God, whose Son Jesus Christ is the good shepherd of your people: Grant that when we hear his voice we may know him who calls us each by name, and follow where he leads.”
 
Shepherd imagery continues all through our readings, starting with the big line from Jesus himself: “I am the good shepherd.”  
 
It is a beautiful image of Christ. But not a very flattering for us, Christ’s sheep.
 
No doubt there are many things to love about sheep. But I have not myself seen those things. 
 
Out of curiosity, I looked online to see what people mean when they call someone a sheep. You will not be surprised at what I found. The first result to come up said, “Calling someone a sheep implies they are conformist. It means they are seen as participating in herding behavior, mindlessly following rules, agendas or trends set forth by the majority group. The label is almost always an insult.”
 
Apparently, that’s us. What do we do with that? Is there some good news for us here?
 
I think so. Being a sheep is not a compliment. But being a sheep is comforting, at least as long as we have a good shepherd.
 
Years ago, before our children were born, Carrie and I travelled to Mexico with some friends. This was before you could find everything you wanted to know about anything on the internet. Planning trips was a bigger hassle then than now.
 
Before we left, our friends asked us, many times, what we wanted to do. But pretty quickly Carrie and I realized that we didn’t have to answer that question. Our friend liked planning. She happily figured out where to go, how to get there, where to stay, what to eat, what to do, and everything else about our trip. She continued to lead us through the trip itself. Carrie and I didn’t have to make a single decision. We didn’t even have to express a single opinion. It was a great trip. We were sheep. And we loved it.
 
Thirty years later, it turns out I haven’t changed. We are currently planning another trip with another couple. They found the trip, told us how to get there, and have been busily planning our itinerary ever since.
 
They were in town last week, and, like our friend thirty years ago, the planner of the couple asked us what we wanted to do. Thankfully, she had a proposal. We made a pretense of thinking about it. Carrie even pulled up a website on her computer, as if we wanted to make an informed decision. Then we told our friend we wanted to do exactly what she had proposed. I’m still not clear what it is. But I am sure it will be great.
 
I am a grown man. And, when it comes to travelling, I love being a sheep.
 
But, I repeat, only if I have a good shepherd. And Jesus is a good shepherd, our good shepherd. As our Psalm says, Jesus makes us lie down in green pastures and leads us beside still waters—everything a sheep wants for the good sheep life.
 
We should be thankful for our good shepherd, and we should definitely follow where our shepherd leads, just as we prayed at the beginning of our service.
 
But, perhaps sadly, there is more to say about following Jesus.
 
As First John says, out of love for us, Jesus laid down his life for us. That’s what a good shepherd does for the sheep.
 
And then Jesus tells us to do the same for each other. Jesus not only leads us as his flock of sheep. Jesus also calls us to be his sheep dogs. Jesus charges us with helping Jesus to get the flock into those green pastures and, if necessary, to lay down our lives for the flock, just as Jesus does. Our reading from First John calls that loving in truth and action.
 
We, Jesus’ flock, are loved by God. And, following the lead of our shepherd, we love each other.
 
And that love keeps going, rippling outwards.
 
In our Gospel reading, Jesus reminds us that he doesn’t just lay down his life for his current sheep. Jesus also has other sheep who don’t belong to our fold, and Jesus wants to bring them in too. And so, Jesus dispatches us, his sheep dogs, to find sheep wherever they may be and invite them into the flock so that they, too, can know the good shepherd.
 
That is our calling, to serve as Christ’s witnesses, witnesses to Christ’s resurrection and all that Christ’s resurrection means for our world. And we witness best by loving, loving everybody, loving our neighbors, even loving our enemies.
 
Our calling to love doesn’t end there either. It keeps rippling out, beyond human beings to God’s creation, a calling we particularly remember this morning since tomorrow is Earth Day. We are called to love our non-human neighbors, too, actual sheep as well as lions and tigers and, dare I say it, even mosquitoes. Mayne not mosquitoes.
 
And the rest of creation, too, the woods and the rivers and the mountains.
We are called to love, and to keep loving, and to love ever more broadly until our love, like God’s love, encompasses all of creation.
 
That may sound strange, so I end with a quick story I read in a book about nature and spirituality. A college professor required his students to “adopt a tree” for the semester, to spend a little time, several days each week, sitting with their particular tree and journaling about their experiences with the tree.
 
One of the students complained early in his journal that this was a stupid assignment and a waste of time. But over the course of the semester, that student changed. Paying attention to his tree made him more sensitive to the wonder and the fragility of God’s creation. In one of his last journal entries of the semester, the student worried that his tree looked downcast because it hadn’t rained in a while.
 
Spending time with his tree taught that student to love his tree. As a result, the circle of that student’s love got a little bigger. I imagine Christ smiling.
 
I am not going to sit beside a tree every day or so for the next few months. Sadly, I am also not a gardener, which strikes me as one of the best ways to interact with the natural world around us.
 
But, in honor of Earth Day, I plan to visit a neighbor’s forsythia bush tomorrow. I love forsythia, and right now, that bush is on yellow fire. I plan to take a few minutes appreciating the bush as an incarnation of God’s love and an invitation to love God through the natural beauty of God’s world. If my neighbor is home, it may get a little awkward, but that’s OK.
 
I encourage you to do something similar this week. Find some way to focus on God’s creation. And for a few minutes, be intentional about it. Notice the kinds of details you might otherwise miss. Say a quick prayer of gratitude. And as part of that prayer, ask God to help you love a little more broadly and deeply, following the lead of our good shepherd.
 
I end with thanks to God for calling us into Christ’s sheepfold and helping us to see that Christ’s sheepfold encompasses all of creation. In the name of our Good Shepherd. Amen.