The Last Lion-Tamer

Rev. Dr. Joel D. Biermann

I Peter 5:6-11

The Seventh Sunday of Easter  May 28, 2017

It came to a final and absolute end just last Sunday.  After 146 years as a part of the American culture, the circus ended on May 21, 2017.  Oh, I know, there are still other circuses out there, but the great American circus and the circus in my life, has to be Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus, the “Greatest Show on Earth.”  But the greatest show is over forever.  Times change, interests change, standards change.  The circus is gone; and with it go the circus acts: the zany clowns, the prancing ponies, the parading pachyderms, the whining motorcycles in a globe, the flying trapeze, and the lion-tamers.  It’s been twenty-seven years since I went to the circus.  I suppose I’m part of the reason that the circus has gone away forever; you can’t have a circus if no one comes to see the show.  But twenty-seven years ago, when my wife and I had two daughters and no son, the greatest show on earth came to Breslin Arena in East Lansing and we went to see it.  It was the last season, the farewell tour, for the famous animal trainer, Gunther Gebel Williams, a bona fide lion-tamer.  I wish I could tell you about his amazing prowess and skill; but honestly, beyond the wonder and delight of my daughters, I don’t remember much about the performances that afternoon.  Now, I’ll never be able to revive the memories or create new ones.  The circus is gone.  The lion-tamers are no more—a lost breed.  I’ll never get to see another one in action, and neither will you.

Actually, though, lion-tamers have been a dwindling breed for quite some time.  Men and women brave and daring enough to enter into a cage with massive big cats are a rare and disappearing group, no doubt; but the demise of metaphorical lion-tamers is just as real…and a much greater concern.  The lion-tamer metaphor has found its way into our everyday lexicon of words and ideas.  Someone brave enough to take on threatening or difficult situations or people is likened to a lion-tamer, whether the arena is politics, business, litigation, or sports.  Those people with the mettle to rise to hard intimidating challenges are not common, so the metaphor works.  The world certainly needs men and women courageous enough to take on the lions that threaten, and when those lion-tamers are in short supply, the world is diminished.  But, what if the lion isn’t a just a metaphor?  What if the lion that threatens is an altogether actual predator with real teeth and claws and an appetite?  What if the lion that roams can literally take your life and destroy those you love?  What if the lion that hunts for prey is in reality more dangerous, more terrifying, more powerful, and more real than any lion lurking in a circus cage or stalking in an African game preserve?  What if the king of the beasts is only a dim shadow of the real and horrible lion that actually does roam about in the world?  Who’s going to stand up to that lion?  Who’s going to tame the prince of this world?  Who’s going to fight back against Satan?

This is Peter’s point.  He wants his readers, that includes you and me, to recognize the threat, and to stand strong against that fearsome beast.  Satan, the prince and the beast of this world is the ultimate lion—the lion that plots and stalks and pounces and terrifies and tears and kills and swallows.  Satan is the lion.  He wants to kill you.  He wants to swallow you whole; he wants to gulp you down.  Peter chooses his words carefully.  They are strong and graphic and bone-chilling.  The apostle does not exaggerate.  The danger is very real and the damage is utterly devastating.  Satan, Peter declares, is quite real.  He’s got an insatiable appetite for people.  He eats them whole, body and soul.  And, he’s out there, on the loose.  Who’s going to face that lion?  Lion-tamers ready to take on that lion are desperately needed, but in short supply.

Of course, the lion-tamer needs to be you.  That’s what Peter is getting at: you are the one who is expected to do the job.  You are the one who is supposed to take on the lion.  In truth, you don’t really have a choice.  It’s not as if you have an option whether or not to engage the lion in combat.  He engages you.  He hunts and stalks and attacks regardless what you might think or want.  It doesn’t even matter if you’re not quite sure what you believe about the whole idea of Satan and the presence of such horrible and deadly evil at work in the world.  Admittedly, there are plenty of people who don’t believe that Satan is real.  There are even Christians who are reluctant to admit the existence of Satan at work in the world.  It’s a bit unsettling, and certainly a lot out-of-step with how the rest of the world operates.  Believing in demons and Satan is unscientific and a little too medieval for many sophisticated people, today.  Which, of course, is exactly the way that Satan likes it.  Scripture is clear.  The witness of the church is unequivocal.  Jesus’ own teaching and example is unquestionable.  Satan does exist.  He is not just a faceless force or a negative energy.  He’s not just a label or a name for the bad things that happen by luck or fate.  Satan is real—a powerful, evil, rebellious, personal creature that is opposed to God and all that God loves.  Satan is determined to destroy whatever God deems precious.  You are precious to God.  Satan’s mission is to destroy you.  You must come to terms with the reality.

Recognizing the reality of Satan is where it begins.  That’s what Peter calls being sober-minded.  It means you know the score.  You know what you’re up against.  You see the spiritual reality at work.  Recognizing that, the smart thing to do, of course, is to be watchful and ready with all the keen awareness of a lion-tamer in the center ring surrounded by big cats.  In dangerous situations, one does not let down his guard.  And yet, this proves problem far too often, doesn’t it?  You don’t hear any roaring, you don’t even hear a low rumbling growl coming from the tall grass.  It’s quiet.  You don’t see any evidence of Satan lurking in the shadows, and you can’t catch in the wind, a whiff of his stench, so you conclude that everything is safe and fine and your relax.  And, then, seemingly out of nowhere, he’s there, and the lion has you by the throat.  That’s the way that lion’s hunt in the savannas of Africa.  Stealth and deception and patience, and then, only at the last moment, the brazen attack in full power.  By then, it’s too late.

Satan is at work in the world, today---even in the unbelieving West, and especially in God’s church.  Where better to lie in wait for the chance to attack, destroy, and gulp down another meal?  Satan feeds on people.  He wants you.  He wants your family.  He wants your church.  The best way to beat the lion is to recognize his approach before he springs with power.  Keep your eyes on the weeds.  Pay attention to the shadows.  Sense the telltale signs in the breeze.  He’s around.  Don’t get caught off guard.  But, this is where American Christians seem to stumble.  Lion-tamers have left with the circus, and lion-tamers, it seems, have also left the church.  There is, in the West, an abundance of dull, disinterested, distracted church-goers who seem oblivious to the threats around them.  God sets his standard for moral behavior—it’s clear-cut without question, but it’s also out of style: “You know, people today just live together before marriage, it’s what they do.  Divorce happens, it’s part of life, you move on.  And, after all, it’s not my business to tell people who they can or can’t love.”  In the face of such blatant moral decay, there seem to be too few lion-tamers who hear the growl in the grass.  Christian parents pray for their children and bring them to church when the schedule allows; and then send them off into the world to sit at the feet of teachers and heroes who are equipped with great influence, firm conviction, and persuasive power, and those Christian children hear there about a world that is guided by impersonal forces, a world without a God who speaks his truth and answers the big questions, a world that means only what we decide it means.  And then those Christian parents wonder why those once-Christian children aren’t so sure exactly what they believe anymore, but do know that they don’t much believe in going to church or following God’s ways.  No one seems to be able to smell the lion’s stench blowing downwind.  The marriage once strong and committed to honoring God, grows stale and cold and empty, but husband and wife simply adapt and move along, and don’t notice the rustling in the weeds.  Where are the lion-tamers who are alert and on the look-out?  Where are the Christians who take the threats seriously and watch for the approach of the horrible lion?  Where are the Christians who are determined not to become lion-food?

Satan sneaks and stalks and suddenly attacks.  And when he does, you need to fight back.  That’s Peter’s next admonition.  When Satan pounces you don’t play dead.  You resist.  And you offer the only resistance that ever works against the great lion.  You resist him by digging deep into the reality of your faith.  You resist him by relying on God to intervene for you.  You resist Satan by invoking the name of Jesus Christ.  The fact is that you can’t do it: you can’t stand up to the lion.  You can’t outwit him or outlast him, and you certainly can’t overpower him.  No, your one and only defense, and your only weapon, is to cling to Christ in faith, and let him take on the lion.  Don’t misunderstand.  Clinging to Christ in faith is not at all a passive, quiet, quiescent thing.  Living in faith means that you actively pursue God’s truth about everything.  You are alert to whatever erodes or attacks or diminishes that truth.  Living in faith means you cultivate your relationship with God by hearing his word, studying his truth, being with his people, and praying to him about everything.  Living in faith means you see the reality of what is going on all around you and then cling to God’s promises and do what God tells you to do no matter what anyone else thinks or says or does.  Living in faith means you learn to deny yourself and your needs and give yourself for the sake of those around you meeting their needs and so honoring God.  Nothing drives away the lion like a Christian who actually takes God at his word and builds his life fully on that reality.  That’s what it means to live in faith.  That’s the way that you beat the lion.  You don’t do it.  Jesus does.

The truth is that you don’t have to be a lion-tamer.  You don’t have to have the iron will, steel nerves, and cool daring of a lion-tamer.  You don’t have to live in perpetual vigilance, obsessed over what might be sneaking up in the tall grass.  You don’t need to be able to fend off an attack when it comes.  You only need Jesus.  He’s the lion-tamer.  He’s the last lion-tamer.  He’s the only lion-tamer.  What you can’t do, he does.  When you grow weary of watching the weeds, he stands guard.  When you are helpless against the ferocious attack, he steps in and fights off the lion.  When you are on the verge of being Satan’s next meal, he intervenes and saves you.  But, you must be in him.  You must remain in him.  You must abide in him—and you do that by being where he is, and by doing what he says.  Jesus is your lion-tamer.  He’s the last lion-tamer.  And he’s actually not a very good lion-tamer.  You see, he doesn’t tame the lion.  He just kills him.  That’s what happened on the cross and at the tomb.  The lion was dealt a deadly blow.  He has a mortal wound now.  On the Last Day, he’ll be finished off.  The lion’s days are numbered.  Satan’s done.  He can’t touch you, not when you’re in Jesus.  Stay there, my friend; stay in Jesus.  Amen.

Old Bones

Rev. Dr. Joel D. Biermann

Exodus 13:17-22

May 14, 2017

It’s just around the corner.  Soon another school year will draw to a close.  Soon, summer vacation will begin.  Soon, it will be time to pack the bags, load the vehicle, lock up the house and head off for a time of rest and relaxation at the vacation site of your dreams—or perhaps something close to that.  And, you won’t leave without first doing at least a little planning.  You may have already begun the process: checking out resort websites, scanning through lists of vacation rental properties, checking out Google Earth to see what that beach really looks like, making reservations, and setting aside funds.  There’s a lot to do to plan your journey—your escape from St. Louis.  So, with summer vacation on the horizon, and planning for the next trip already underway, a text from Exodus about the exodus is rather appropriate.  For Moses, though, things were certainly not relaxed or leisurely as he worked to get his people out of Egypt and on their way.  He didn’t have the luxury of detailed arrangements and preparations in place ahead of his actual departure.  There were no carefully-orchestrated plans—no maps, no reservations, no routes selected in advance.  For Moses, everything was rather hastily thrown together with one simple objective: get out of Egypt forever.  When it was time to leave, it was time to leave…ready or not.  And so, Moses and the people left.  The journey began.

Actually, Moses didn’t need much advance planning, maps, or carefully selected travel routes.  Moses had a pillar.  It was pretty simple: go wherever the pillar went.  Cloud by day, fire by night, if the pillar moved, Moses moved; if the pillar stopped, Moses stopped.  Nothing to it.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  Moses didn’t have to worry about exactly where he was going, but he did still have to make sure that everyone, the whole nation of Israel, was going with him.  It was complicated.  There were tribes to organize and weapons to secure.  He had to provide for the young and the old and the livestock.  He had to consider the threats and the dangers that would be encountered.  And, he had to haul along the bones of his long dead ancestor, Joseph.

It’s not one of the more prominent Bible stories, but you may remember that, on his deathbed, the great patriarch Joseph had looked ahead with the eyes of prophecy and faith and seen a deliverance that at the time of his dying wasn’t even necessary.  And, on that deathbed, Joseph had made his survivors promise that when at last, that deliverance came, his bones were to make the trip home to Canaan—home to the plot of land where he was raised in Shechem.  Moses had to keep the promise—along with everything else he had to keep track of.  Moses left Egypt with Joseph’s bones, maybe still in the Egyptian sarcophagus in which Joseph’s embalmed body had been placed 400 long years before the time of the Exodus.  The dying wish of Moses’ great uncle would be honored.  That, of course, is what you do in families: you bear one another’s burdens, sometimes literally.  Moses had plenty to bear as he set out for Canaan.  But, at least he didn’t need directions.  He had the pillar.

Even that part of the plan was not without complications, though.  The ancient home of Israel was less than 200 miles away from Egypt off to the northeast.  The pillar, though, led them southeast into the wilderness.  Still, there was a practical reason for this course.  The northeast route was direct and pleasant running along the Mediterranean, and running through the Philistines who were a notoriously war-like and disagreeable people.  God knew his own people of Israel, and he knew that they weren’t ready for warfare, not yet.  It was better, then, to avoid confrontation at least for now.  So, the pillar led them out and into the wilderness and right to the shore of the Red Sea—which was the perfect place for hard-hearted, flip-flopping Pharaoh, who changed his mind one more time, to set off to pursue, surround, and entrap the entire group.

It’s almost like God set Moses up to be trapped.  It’s almost like he wanted Israel to be hemmed in and desperate with absolutely no avenue of escape available.  Of course, as you know very well, there is no “almost” with God.  The people of Israel were exactly where God wanted them to be.  The pillar led them to the precise place he had selected—a place where they were trapped between Pharaoh and the Sea.  It wasn’t the place they would have chosen.  But, God was doing the choosing.  He boxed them in.  He did it not out of cruelty or spite, but because he knew what he had planned.  With Israel pinned down by the sea, the stage was set for the Red Sea deliverance.  The stage was set for the Gospel.

Where is God leading you, today?  Right, there’s no pillar hovering over the parking lot or descending down onto your garage ready to lead you forth into places of God’s choosing.  But, the path that lies before you is, just as certainly, one chosen for you by God.  And I suspect that some of you sometimes find yourselves being led into places that you would not have chosen for yourself.  But, off you go—following where God leads—whether it’s off to vacation, off to work, or just off to another routine day of life.  Off you go, lugging all that you have been burdened to carry along.  You do have your own box of bones, don’t you?  What bones are you carrying with you as you travel along the way?  What responsibilities have been bound to you along with the bonds of your family and are now going with you to complicate your journey?  What tired old heritage and habits accompany you as you travel through life?  What old bones of past failures and defeats are part of your luggage?  What box of regrets and embarrassments will you shoulder as you set off to follow the way that God leads? What skeletons will you have to work to keep out of sight as you make your way to where God wants you to be?  How does the sordid heritage of your first-father-Adam’s ancient, catastrophic failure, what we now call original sin, still rattle around in your life and weigh you down?  We all travel with bones in tow.  You can’t get rid of them.  They are simply part of your reality; and they serve a critical purpose.  They keep you humble.  They keep you dependent.  They keep you broken and open to God’s giving.

Don’t blame your ancestors for the bones.  Regardless the source, they are yours, now.  Today, of course, we rightly celebrate mothers and thank God for the gifts he delivers through those who give life and who nurture us as we grow.  We owe much to our mothers.  But, what they give us is also the human legacy of sinfulness.  They give us bones to carry.  Of course, it was not intentional.  There was never a formal event or “swearing ceremony” transferring the “burden of the bones” to you; but you’ve inherited them nonetheless.  They are an inheritance from your sinful mother and father.  But, the bones you carry are also the product of your own thoughts and choices, words and silences, actions and inactions. Yours and theirs, you’ve got bones that you’re dragging along.  Don’t pretend that they aren’t there.  We are all the children of Adam and Eve, and we are all shameful sinners in our own rights; by inheritance, by our own doing, we each bear our own box of bones.  There’s no hiding the fact.  But don’t misunderstand, the bones you’ve been burdened to carry through life don’t need to be displayed…and certainly not celebrated; they just need to be carried along the way.  And knowing that others carry their own heavy loads of bones can kindle, perhaps, a bit of empathy, and concern along with the humility and dependence that those bones should already generate in you.  Shoulder the load.  Get ready for the journey.  Follow where God leads, and take the bones to the place where they belong.  They belong where God wants them to be.

God led Moses where he wanted him to be—hemmed in and desperate, impossibly burdened with nowhere to go.  And then God did the impossible: he opened the sea.  He delivered the gospel.  The Red Sea spread apart, the people marched through on dry land; Pharaoh’s army followed…and was drowned.  God’s people were delivered.  When they could do nothing to save themselves, God saved them.  That’s the gospel.  Safely through the sea, the pillar kept leading.  Moses kept following.  Through the wilderness, through trials and failures and sorrows and joys, Moses followed God’s lead all the way to Canaan.  And, there, in the Promised Land, the pillar stopped.  There in Canaan, the long journey came to an end.  There, at last, Joseph’s bones were buried—in Shechem, Joseph’s home, just as Joseph had requested…just where God wanted them to be.

God is leading you, just where he wants you to be: to a new undertaking, perhaps—a new adventure in a new city, or away from St Louis for a while, for a time of vacation, or just back home, back to your Shechem to carry out the routine of life, there, with your to-do list and the burden that you carry.  Pillar or not, God leads, and puts you where he wants you to be.  And regardless the details or circumstances, God always arranges a similar situation.  He leads you to a place where you are boxed-in, a place where your need is real, your situation is eventually desperate, and your only hope is what only he can give.  That’s where he wants you to be.  That’s always where he wants you to be, longing and eager for his grace.  And he gives it—he gives his grace.  When your situation is impossible and the bones are too heavy to move, he does the impossible and forgives your failure, tears away the sin, washes away the shame, and relieves you of the bones.  He gives you a place to dump them and bury them forever.  No, you don’t bury them in a grave in Shechem.  You bury them in a grave in Jerusalem.  It is God’s great mercy to you: you don’t lug the bones around forever.  Those bones get buried in the grave, buried in Jesus’ empty tomb. There’s plenty of room there for all the bones that you, or anyone else, have been hauling around.  The old bones stay there; you step, at last, into the Promised Land—no, not the perfect vacation paradise of your dreams, but the real, eternal paradise of God’s presence that will surpass any dream you could ever have.  That’s the place that he wants you to be forever.  Amen.

Sleek Sheep

Rev. Dr. Joel D. Biermann

Ezekiel 34:7-16

May 7, 2017  Fourth Sunday of Easter

As you may have noticed, this is the suburbs.  We live surrounded by development, buildings, concrete, and people.  Green spaces are the exception and not the rule, and whatever green spaces there might be are tightly constrained and surrounded by development, buildings, concrete, and people.  So, lacking adequate pastureland, none of you raise crops or livestock for your livelihood.  None of you is responsible for a flock of sheep, or even a single sheep for that matter.  In fact, you are probably absolutely (and justifiably!) disinterested in anything at all to do with sheep.  Most of us don’t even eat sheep.  The closest I come to sheep is the wool in my suits.  So, when Ezekiel announces that he has a word for shepherds, the relevancy meter plummets and the interest level takes a dive with it.  Who cares about sheep?  Who cares about shepherds?  Well, you should, of course.  Because, after all, you are a sheep.

It’s one of the most pervasive metaphors in the Bible.  God’s people, human creatures, are likened to sheep.  It’s an apt image.  Fragile, defenseless, prone to wander, inclined to be unduly influenced by their peers, prone to herd activity, dependent, stubborn, sometimes a tad smelly, and pretty much oblivious to all of these defining realities, people have a fair amount in common with sheep.  But, it’s not just that you are like a sheep.  The way that the Bible puts it, you are a sheep.  You are part of a flock—you and all of your fellow believers in the promises of God are the flock.  And you have a shepherd: God himself who watches over you, protects you, directs you, and provides for you.  But, the sheep metaphor can be developed in other ways as well.  And that’s what Ezekiel does when he aims a word at shepherds—in other words, leaders of the people who are supposed to be responsible for the people, just as a shepherd is responsible for his sheep.  And since you are a sheep, what Ezekiel has to say to shepherds should be of interest to you.

It seems that the shepherds of Israel, the religious and political leaders of Ezekiel’s day, were not fulfilling their responsibilities.  In fact, they were neglecting their duties, and taking advantage of their situation.  The shepherds were called to provide for the flock, but instead they were eager to fleece the flock…and worse.  When a sheep was lost, they didn’t care.  When wild beasts attacked, the shepherds were nowhere to be found.  Instead of protecting the flock from predators, these shepherds were the ones preying on the flock.  They weren’t feeding the sheep, they were feeding on the sheep.  The shepherds were the sheep’s worst nightmare.  So, Ezekiel declares God’s judgment against these ruthless, good-for-nothing shepherds.  The warning was clear: God would deal with them.  God holds his shepherds accountable.  And, if you’re a sheep, this is comforting.  It’s nice to know that leaders who abuse their power will be called to account for their crimes.  It resonates with our sense of justice.  The same promise, or threat, holds today.  God demands an accounting from those who are charged to lead.  So, Ezekiel’s message is good news.  In this case, it’s good to be a sheep and not a shepherd.  What a relief to be just a sheep.

You are not just any old sheep, either.  You are God’s sheep, one of his hand-picked people.  He’s called you into his flock.  He’s made you his very own.  God himself takes care of you.  He always takes care of his sheep.  He loves them.  That’s why he has harsh words for miserable human shepherds.  When those shepherds fail, God himself steps in and comes to the rescue.  Of course, that is precisely what he did by sending his own Son.  For the sake of his sheep, because he loved his sheep, God joined the world in the person of Jesus Christ, the ultimate and perfect Good Shepherd.  Led by The Holy Spirit, Ezekiel looked forward into time and saw the fulfillment.  He saw the time when the Good Shepherd comes and takes care of his sheep.  He saw the work that Jesus, the Good Shepherd does for his people.  When the flock is scattered, the Good Shepherd gathers it together again.  When a sheep is lost, the Good Shepherd never quits looking; he finds it and brings it back.  When the sheep are hungry, he feeds them.  When the sheep are tired, he finds a place for them to rest.  When a sheep is injured, he binds the wounds and heals that sheep.  That’s what the Good Shepherd does for his sheep.  When you are one of God’s sheep, you can breathe easy and let down your guard.  When you are God’s sheep life is good.  In God’s flock, a sheep can rest comfortably, graze well, and grow strong and well-toned; a sheep can even achieve that healthy, “filled-out” look...you know, that well-fed, American-style, sign of well-being, prosperity, and plenty.  Not gaunt or scrawny, but robust and sleek, maybe even handsomely plump.  A sheep in God’s flock has it good.

So, we delight in the great privilege of being God’s sheep.  We relax and rejoice in the promises he has made.  And he makes some powerful promises.  Hear again what he says to you through his prophet, Ezekiel: “I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, and the fat and the strong I will destroy.”  Whoa.  Wait a minute.  What was that last part?  “…and the fat and the strong I will destroy?”  What’s that doing in there?   Just when everything was on track and looking great, just when the promises were kicking in, and it was feeling pretty good to be part of the flock, just when everything was blooming and smiling, and things were sounding the way that they are supposed to sound, Ezekiel, or rather, the Holy Spirit, drops this bombshell.  The Good Shepherd who comes for his sheep and seeks, and brings back, and binds up, and strengthens…also destroys?  It’s added almost as if it is an afterthought.  The lost get sought.  The scattered get brought back.  The broken get patched up, the sick and weak get healed and strengthened.  And the fat and the strong…oh, they get destroyed, wiped out, exterminated, that’s what the Hebrew word means.  What’s going on, here?  What happened to the cheery, comforting words?  What happened to a Good Shepherd who lovingly, tenderly cares for his sheep?

The word seems out of place.  But, there it is: “Destroy.”  There’s no way to wiggle out of it.  There’s no clever interpretation to make it go away or blunt its force.  The message is dreadfully, disastrously direct: the well-fed, good, solid, healthy, strong, sleek sheep, precisely those sheep, the Lord God promises to destroy.  This is no idle threat.  God does exactly what he says he is going to do.  The sleek, strong, sheep get it—and, it’s not their anticipated reward, a pile of rich blessings and sweet luxuries that they get—no, they get destroyed.  Make no mistake: the sleek and strong are not just fat-cat billionaires or powerful politicians and policy-makers who deal in influence and prestige.  This is not one more swipe at the self-serving shepherds that God hates.  No, the fat and strong sheep, the buff and sleek sheep are simply all the sheep who are not lost, or scattered, or broken, or sick and weak.  The sleek and strong sheep are the decent, solid folk who do their best with what they’ve got, and make a genuine effort to make things a little better.  It’s people who work hard to do their fair share and who manage to get ahead and do all right for themselves.  It’s people who get their work done, meet their responsibilities, and are able to enjoy some of the fruits of their hard labors—but no more than they have coming to them—just their fair share.  Does any of this sound familiar?  Do you know any sheep like that?  I won’t presume to speak for you, but this text terrifies me.

And yet, the wonder of this text, the impossible and surprising beauty of this word from God, is precisely its unsettling incongruity and dissonance.  You see, the hard reality is that God has no need for self-made men.  He has no use for the well-fed and the healthy.  He has no interest in the man who’s learned to pull his own weight and make a real contribution.  God does not want sleek sheep, he does not want pleasantly plump, strong, fit, muscular sheep.  He doesn’t want sleek sheep because sleek sheep don’t want him.  It’s true.  Sleek sheep are self-sufficient and self-confident.  Sleek sheep are certain of the privileges they’ve got coming to them.  Sleek sheep are able to make their own way and take care of themselves.  That’s why God does the loving thing: and destroys them.  He destroys the sleek sheep because he loves the sleek sheep.  It’s only when they’ve been destroyed that they are ready to be part of his flock.

Think about Peter.  Peter was one robust, solid, healthy, sleek sheep, wasn’t he?  He was Jesus’ hand-picked disciple.  He had great insight into Jesus’ identity.  He spoke with confidence for the entire group of the apostles.  And when Jesus warned the twelve that they would all deny and desert him, he was adamant: “Lord, even if all the rest turn and run, I’m your man.  I’m sticking with you; you can count on me.”  So, what did the Good Shepherd do to this sleek sheep?  He destroyed him.  He wiped him out and brought him to nothing through the challenge of a servant girl.  “I don’t know him!”  Peter swore it…and then went out and wept bitterly.  Peter had been killed, destroyed by his own self-sufficient sin.  And, then there’s Paul, another, perhaps the ultimate, good, strong, healthy, righteous sheep.  An Israelite from the tribe of Benjamin, a Pharisee and rabbi, a persecutor of heresy, a man who got things done: Paul was a strong, confident, sleek sheep.  And what did the Good Shepherd do with this fine specimen?  He knocked him flat.  The flash of light, the words of rebuke, the humbling, crushing blindness: Paul was destroyed.  Self-sufficiency and self-righteousness were wiped out—a merciful action by the Good Shepherd.  The sleek are destroyed so that they can be ready, finally, for God’s work in them.  They are destroyed so that they are ready to be bound up and made new again by God himself.  Destroyed sheep are ready to be re-made into real, God-created, sheep of God’s flock.  They are ready to be sheep who know their need, sheep who are made whole by God.  God only cares for broken and weak sheep.  Grace is only for those who are weak and sick and lost and torn apart.  And, grace is what weak, lost, sick, and destroyed sheep always get.  It was that way for Peter.  Broken and shamed, he got grace, and then he was sent out to be a shepherd himself—a remarkable twist in the plan of the Good Shepherd.  It was the same for Paul.  Torn apart and humiliated—repentant, indeed—he received grace, and then he was sent out…another shepherd to care for God’s flock.  It is the same for you.  Broken and humbled, brought low by the awareness of your own sin, you are self-made, capable, strong, and sleek no more.  And then, in your inability and great need and finally aware of that fact, the Good Shepherd comes looking for you.  He finds you.  He binds your wounds.  He builds you up and brings you back to the flock, and you are his.  You are not a sleek sheep, you are his sheep, and his sheep you will remain.  Amen.