The Lord is my Shepherd
Come from a voice
That pierces the darkness
And calls out our faith.[1]

God appeals to all our senses to call out our faith.
Two weeks ago, it was touch.
Thomas needed to touch the wounds of Christ in order to believe.
Last week, it was sight.
On the road to Emmaus, the disciples recognized Jesus in His appearing and even in His vanishing.
Today, it is hearing. In John’s Gospel, we are given the image of the Good Shepherd. Our Collect we prayed reinforces this image: “Grant that when we hear his voice, we may know him who calls us by name.”

Touching. Seeing. Hearing.
These are not accidents. They are the ways God calls both the individual and the community, the community we know as the Church. Through that community, God continues to call out to the world. But the world does not always recognize that voice. And if we are honest… neither do we. On this Good Shepherd Sunday, we are reminded that the Shepherd’s voice is steady, faithful, and true. It leads us, as the Psalm says, to green pastures and still waters. We listen to His Word. We come to His altar. We are fed, restored, and named. And yet, so often, we miss it. Not because the voice is unclear, but because there are so many others competing for our attention. We get caught between what we think we hear and what we want to hear. And when that happens, we begin to drift.

There’s an old story about a U.S. naval fleet sailing off the coast of Newfoundland. It was a dark night. Thick fog. Visibility was nearly zero. Suddenly, a message came through the radio: “Please divert your course 15 degrees to the south to avoid a collision.” The Americans replied: “Recommend you divert your course 15 degrees to the north.” The response came back: “Negative. You must divert your course.” Back and forth it went, until finally the American captain said: “This is the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln, the second-largest ship in the Atlantic Fleet. We are accompanied by multiple vessels. I demand that you change your course immediately.” There was a pause. Then the reply came: “This is a lighthouse. Your call.”

That’s the moment, isn’t it? When we realize that the voice we’ve been arguing with is not one voice among many, it is the voice that does not move. The voice that does not adjust itself to us. The voice that simply is.
Psalm 23 begins with that same certainty: “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.” And if we’re honest, that line can feel… unrealistic. “I shall not want”? Really? Who among us is ready to say that? We live in a world built on wanting, wanting more, wanting better, wanting different. And sometimes the Church feels the pressure to keep up, to offer what people want rather than what they need. But Psalm 23 is not saying we have no desires. It is saying something deeper: that when we follow the Shepherd, our desires begin to be reshaped. Our “want” becomes aligned with God’s will.

In the book titled, “Life Together,” Dietrich Bonhoeffer reminds us that the Christian life is not about losing ourselves in the noise of the world, but about being grounded in Christ so that we can return to the world rightly. He writes that true work, true purpose, comes when we move beyond ourselves and toward God, who frees us from being consumed by our own desires.[2] In other words, we learn to hear the Shepherd’s voice not just for ourselves, but for the sake of the world. Because the world will always look for another way in.

Jesus says it plainly: the one who enters through the gate knows the Shepherd.[3] But the one who climbs in another way is a thief and a robber. The world will always try to scale the wall. And sometimes… so will we.
So what is our calling? It is simple, and it is difficult. We are to listen. To recognize the voice of the Shepherd. And then, to point others toward it. Even when they don’t want to hear it. Even when they argue with it.
Even when they insist they know better.

We stand, like that lighthouse, not moving, not adjusting, not negotiating, but simply bearing witness. Telling the world where the gate is. Inviting them to come and see. And yes, sometimes repeating ourselves.
But here is the hope: Eventually, if we are faithful, our voice will echo His voice. And when that happens, the world will not just hear us, they will hear the Good Shepherd. Calling them by name. Leading them home. Saying the same thing, "Do what you want. It’s your call.”

[1] The Rev. Jon Roberts
[2] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together, 1939 (in English 1954)
[3]John 10:1-10