Bright ideas, simple reflections — a little light for every step of the way.
What do you do with a bunch of old sermons? Turn them into a blog – refined, condensed, made for today’s world – feel free to use as written, or as fodder for your own message. It’s For you! No permission needed or credit given. (Scroll down for previous posts)
Sunday, April 19 – Fourth Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
1 Peter 2:19-25
John 10:1-10
The Shepherd’s Voice
Grace and peace to you in the name of the Good Shepherd—our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
This Fourth Sunday of Easter is often called Good Shepherd Sunday—and you can hear why in our worship today: our prayers, our hymns, and our readings keep returning to the image of God as the One who leads, feeds, protects, and restores.
We pray Psalm 23, that beloved confession that the Lord is our shepherd—providing what we need, leading us beside still waters, giving rest in green pastures, and walking with us even through the darkest valley.
And in the Gospel reading, Jesus uses that same shepherd image—not as a sentimental picture, but as a promise: his voice leads away from what destroys and toward the life God intends.
Sheila Walsh grew up on the west coast of Scotland with sheep all around her, so she learned their ways up close. From her book entitled: Loved Back to Life: How I Found the Courage to Live Free, she tells a story about the “Bummer Lamb”:
Of all the lessons I have learned from these defenseless, gentle animals, the most profound is also the most painful. Every now and then, a ewe will give birth to a lamb and immediately reject it. Sometimes the lamb is rejected because it is one of twins and the mother doesn’t have enough milk, or because she is old and frankly quite tired of the whole business. They call those lambs bummer lambs.
If the lamb is returned to the ewe, the mother may even kick the poor animal away. Once a ewe rejects one of her lambs, she will never change her mind. These little lambs will hang their heads so low that it looks like something is wrong with their necks. Their spirit is broken.
Unless the shepherd intervenes, that lamb will die—rejected and alone. So, do you know what the shepherd does?
They take that rejected little one into their home, hand-feed it, and keep it warm by the fire. They wrap it in blankets and hold it to their own chest so the bummer lamb can hear their heartbeat. Once the lamb is strong enough, the shepherd places it back in the field with the rest of the flock.
But that sheep never forgets how the shepherd cared for him when his mother rejected him. When the shepherd calls for the flock, guess who runs to them first?
That’s right—the bummer sheep. He knows the shepherd’s voice intimately.
It’s not that the bummer lamb is loved more; it’s that the lamb has experienced that love up close—and so it trusts it.
Walsh concludes, “I am so grateful that Christ calls himself the Good Shepherd.”
I don’t know about you, but there are days I feel like that bummer lamb. (My mom loved me.) But some days it feels like the world has no patience, no tenderness, and no room for our own struggles – especially when we’re carrying heavy loads or when we’re barely holding it together.
There are so many voices competing for our attention now—news alerts that never stop, social media feeds that measure worth in numbers, “hustle” culture that says rest is laziness, economic anxiety that says you are only as safe as your savings, and even new technologies that can imitate a voice so convincingly you start to wonder what is real. And I’ve noticed something: when I live by those voices, that’s when I start to feel like the bummer lamb—like I’m never going to be enough.
But notice what the voice of the Good Shepherd does—and does not do. Jesus doesn’t begin with a list of hoops to jump through. The Shepherd begins with a promise: “You are mine. You are known. You are loved.”
The Good Shepherd tells us that no matter how complicated, stressful, or frightening life gets—no matter how rejected, overlooked, or worn down we feel—God chooses us. God holds us. God will not let us go.
So the Shepherd keeps calling us back—not to denial, but to discernment. Not every loud voice deserves your trust. Not every demand deserves your life. Jesus says it plainly: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”
And because he is our Shepherd, Jesus can say to us: “Breathe. Let me lead you beside still waters. Let me restore your soul. Let me give you the kind of rest the world cannot manufacture.” He guides us, protects us, and holds on to us through this life—and into the promised life to come.
That little bummer lamb learns the shepherd’s heartbeat and trusts the shepherd’s voice. On Good Shepherd Sunday, we’re invited to learn that voice again—especially when everything else is loud.
PRAY: God, our Good Shepherd, can I place my trust in you? Will you guide me as you promise? Lead me out of negativity, despair, worry, and fear—and into your security, peace, and comfort. When other voices crowd in, help me recognize yours. Give me courage to follow where you lead, and grace to rest when you say, “Come.” In Jesus’ name we pray, and all of God’s children say: AMEN!
God's Yes + My Amen 