John 10:1-10; Fourth Sunday of Easter

The universe is about 93 billion lightyears wide. If the universe were as big as this wall behind me, our solar system would be smaller than an atom. That’s how small and insignificant we are, physically. Makes you wonder how we in our microscopic smallness could even grasp or imagine the size and scale of everything around us.

All this prompts us to ask if our lives matter. Are we even seen at all by whatever or whoever is “out there” running the universe?

The answer of faith is yes, we are seen and known, and even loved. That is what is revealed to us today. We have a God who is a shepherd who sees us and knows us and calls each of us by name. The shepherd has a voice and his voice is not strange at all to those who belong to him.

We have always been surrounded by strange voices in our world. They are strange because they grate on our sense of dignity and humanity. If we hear these voices often enough, we run the risk of taking them to be no longer strange or twisted or even diabolical. Let us take care not to unstrange them or normalize them.

For example, strange are the voices of lies, which are the voices of thieves. They do not just steal money; they steal the truth. They make it disappear and replace it with more lies. Their voice alienates us from who we are and makes us strangers to one another. They continue to steal the truth because we let them and we believe them.

Strange too are the voices of hatred and violence and war. These are the voices of people small as we who like to play monsters. Theirs is the voice of big arms and brute power. Their tone is loud and made proud by self-righteousness and realpolitik. They lord it over the weak. We indulge their fantasy. They survive on our fear and apathy.

Not so strange however is the voice of God, the voice of Christ our Lord, the good shepherd. We who belong to him recognize his voice.

His is the familiar voice of truth. The voice of the good shepherd calls us intimately by name. He understands the truth of who we are, our gifts and debts, our graces and trespasses. We cannot hide anything from him. To us who scatter in confusion or hide in shame, he offers the truth that sets us free. We recognize him in our own voice of contrition when we uncover the lies we tell ourselves. We hear the good shepherd in the voices of those who struggle and fight for the truth wherever there are coverups and lies.

The voice of the good shepherd is also the voice that gathers us. His is the familiar voice of communion. He calls us out of our fenced-in lives to find refreshment in verdant pastures and restful waters. To us who are wounded or whose fists are raised, he offers communion that brings healing and peace. We recognize his voice in our own longing to be reconciled with those who are hurting. The shepherd speaks through those who mediate dialogue and encounter, helping us to temper justice with mercy. We hear his voice in the words and witness of those who are always summoning us to reach out and understand each other.

The good shepherd has a voice and his voice is not strange to us at all who belong to him. His is the voice of truth and communion, the voice of God who knows the truth of us and who calls us to reach out for the fullness of life.

We listen to his voice. And we listen to him tell us that our lives do matter and that for all our smallness in this vast universe, we are seen and heard and loved.

The Lord is our shepherd. Nothing more shall worry us. Nothing more shall we ever want.

*image from the Canaadian Council of Christian Charities blog