A Sermon for Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church
6th March 2022
John 10.11-30
I
don’t know about you,
but my subjective experience of the
last couple of years
has been a growing awareness of my
own mortality.
From
the huge global death-toll of the pandemic,
to wars in Afghanistan, Syria, and
now the Ukraine,
the
fragility of life is increasingly apparent,
and the invincibility of youth
seems an ever-receding illusion as
each year passes.
It
may just be that this is creeping middle age,
as the marriages of friends give way
to divorces,
and divorces give way to
remarriages,
and the generation above me, that
once seemed eternal,
gives way to illness and
infirmity.
But
it all feels very real.
And life seems very fragile.
And
I am left wondering, in my darker moments,
what the point of it all is.
Sometimes, in fact, it feels as though
there are forces at work in the world
seeking to stifle life, joy and creativity.
And I
suspect I’m not alone in sometimes struggling
to find meaning in life and death…
After
all, what, at the end of the day,
is it all about?
What
is the point of life? What is the point of death?
What is the point of fighting, struggling,
surviving?
Where
do we turn for meaning in it all?
There
are many people around in this world
who, it seems, are only too willing
to offer to look after us
Sometimes
it can feel as if, from cradle to grave,
someone, somewhere is promising to
take care of us
From
political ideology, to religious belief, to consumerism to capitalism,
the range of options on offer to
assuage our existential angst are huge.
We
only have to spend a few minutes watching the adverts on the television
to be bombarded with people offering
to solve problems
we didn’t even know we had
until that moment the nice
smiling person in the advert
told us that they
had now found the solution!
And
of course, the reason that this is such a powerful
and effective advertising
method
is that deep down, many of us latch
in very easily at a subconscious level
to
the idea that something is deeply wrong,
and we long for someone to take care of us.
We
long to feel safe and secure
perhaps to recapture something of
the safekeeping
felt by the small child we once were:
with parents attentive to our every
need
and
the next feed only a screaming fit away…
But
it’s not just the adverts offering to
pander to our every desire,
we live in a society which is inherently
structured to take care of us:
The
police are there, we are told, to keep our streets free of crime,
and the health services work with
the scientists
to keep our bodies-illness free.
A
plethora of diet plans and fitness classes
promise to keep us young and
beautiful forever
from
spinning to zumba, from swimming to Pilates,
we can exercise to our heart’s
content
and hopefully its continued good health.
And
then there’s the whole host of creams and ointments
promising youthful looking skin into
old age
as the ‘wrinkles just melt away’.
Our
insurance companies say they’ll always be there for us,
whatever little accidents come
along.
Our
marriage partners promise to have us and to hold us
till death us do part.
Our
parents say they’ll always love and support their little baby.
Our friends say they’ll stand by us
come what may.
The
preacher on the God channel
promises cheap grace and easy
salvation,
and
we elect our politicians to represent us
on their promise of taking our needs
with them into government.
From
compassionate conservatism to democratic socialism,
from the nanny state to the big
society.
From
the personal to the national,
we
are surrounded by people and institutions and ideologies
all of whom are all too ready
to
offer to care for us throughout our lives,
all of whom will promise
to help us keep the wolf
from the door.
And
yet…
How
cared for are we, really?
Ultimately,
we still age,
we still get sick and eventually die.
Marriages
still fail,
and parents grow frail.
Insurance
companies declare an act of God,
and decline to pay out.
Our
streets show ample evidence of crime,
and all too often the bad guys get
away with it.
Politicians
follow the whip,
if they know what’s good for them,
on their way to the front bench.
Countries go to war over self interest
and nationalist ideologies.
And
televangelists get richer,
as their congregations pay for
salvation.
Sometimes, it feels as if we are like sheep without a shepherd,
lost amidst a bewildering array of
promises,
unsure
who to believe, and who to distrust,
uncertain who to turn to for help
when the going gets tough.
And
let’s make no mistake about it, there’s plenty out there to distrust!
there’s plenty out there to be
afraid of.
As
the current tragedy of war in the Ukraine so horrifically demonstrates,
the wolves of the world circle
around us,
just
waiting for us to show our vulnerability
so
that they can pounce.
And
when they do,
who is to care for us?
Don’t
get me wrong,
the police, the health services, the
politicians,
our friends, our families, our loved
ones,
they
all, at their best, do their best,
and sometimes they do it very well.
But
ultimately, when the wolf bites,
sometimes the best they can do is to stand alongside us,
holding our hand to comfort us,
as we find ourselves
passing
through the valley of the
shadow of death,
facing that which we have so long
sought to avoid.
And
it’s at moments like this,
when all other helpers melt away,
that
Jesus’ words from John’s gospel
take on their most compelling meaning:
‘I
am the good shepherd’ says Jesus,
and ‘the good shepherd lays down his
life for the sheep’.
Jesus
draws a distinction between a good shepherd
who protects his sheep even unto
death,
and a hired hand who doesn’t own the
sheep in his care
The
hired hand, who is paid to protect the sheep,
will ultimately fail them if the
danger gets too real,
if the wolf gets too
close.
The
hired hand, however well intentioned,
is never going to exercise the same
care for the sheep
as the shepherd who owns them and
knows them by name.
Jesus
description of himself as ‘the good Shepherd’
is an image of great comfort
for those facing times of darkness
and difficulty in their lives.
And
many have found great assurance in Jesus’ words
when they have experienced the
terror
of being deserted by all other
earthly consolations.
But
this image is far more than simply an assurance
for those who need comforting.
You
see, the description of Jesus as the good shepherd,
who lays down his life for the sheep,
offers
a direct challenge
to the way in which we have been conditioned
to understand the very concept of care
and protection.
The
way the world typically works is that we enter into a contract
with someone or something who promises
to care of us.
We
pay our taxes, and they pay the police,
we collectively pay for the NHS,
and then some individuals pay even
more for private health care.
We
pay our politicians and our insurance companies,
we pay for our low fat cookbooks,
our diet classes, our fitness groups.
We
even speak of marriage as a contract.
We
pay, we pay, we pay,
and in return we receive that which
we have bought,
and we are cared for, protected, loved
and looked after,
at least we are some of
the time…
I
want to suggest that the ideology behind much of this care
is an ideology of death-avoidance:
We are
paying to cheat death for another year,
we are paying to sleep safely in our
beds for another night.
And
so we judge the success of the care we receive,
by whether we make it through
another day unscathed,
through another year unharmed.
Yet
all the while we creep closer to that point
at which we will be deserted by the guardians
with which we have so assiduously surrounded
ourselves.
From
the world’s perspective, death is so often seen as the ultimate failure:
it’s the point at which our
contracted protectors fail us,
it’s the point at which our medical
care has run its full course,
it’s the point at which we are
parted from our loved ones.
It
is, if you like, the ultimate enemy,
one we are told is to be avoided and postponed at all
costs
But
Jesus statement in John’s gospel
forces us face-to-face with the
brute reality of death.
because
the care he offers us is not a care which avoids
death,
it is rather care which embraces death.
You
see, he describes himself as
the good shepherd who lays down his
life for the sheep.
When
the hound of death finally creeps up on us,
and takes us in its jaws,
Jesus
describes himself as the one, the only one, who will not desert us,
because he himself is the one who
journeys with us through death,
laying
down his own life as we lay down ours,
in order that as he takes up his
life again through resurrection,
so we too might enter into an experience
of new life which transcends
death.
And
in the face of protection like this,
the wolf of death is rendered
powerless.
Jesus
isn’t simply talking here about some promise for beyond the grave,
some kind of ‘pie in the sky when
you die’ vision of heaven.
Rather,
the new life which Jesus offers,
this new ‘quality of life’ which
transcends even death,
is
something which begins very much in the here and now.
Other
carers may seek to help us avoid death,
but ultimately they are simply
postponing the inevitable,
whilst at best easing our journey
towards it.
Whereas
the image of Jesus as the one who exercises care,
by
himself dying,
is something altogether of a
different order,
because
it allows us to enter with him,
into a new quality of life.
where death is no longer the enemy
to be feared,
a wolf to be dodged.
Eternal
life in Christ, is something that radically affects
the way we live our lives in the
present.
And
the effect of this is one of release,
as we are freed from our oh-so-human
compulsion
to see death as failure,
death as defeat,
death
as the enemy.
And instead we are enabled to see our
whole lives,
from birth to death, as a
gift from God,
which has an eternal quality in Christ,
and is unconstrained to three score years and ten.
The
significance of this is that who we are today
is therefore of eternal value:
who we are, even now, is held fast
within God’s eternity,
because
eternal life is ours today,
it is ours as a result of the care
offered by the good shepherd,
who lays down his life for the sheep.
This
way of looking at the world has the potential
to radically alter the way in which
we structure society,
including those parts
of it
which we might call our ‘care
systems’.
So
I wonder what a health service would look like,
which was predicated on the notion
of a good death,
rather than automatically
seeing death
as the enemy to be avoided,
and which was focussed on wholeness
of living,
rather than simply
sickness management.
I
wonder what a police force would look like,
which was predicated on the concept
of promoting justice,
rather than punishing
wrongdoing,
and which sought restoration
rather than exercising
retribution.
I
wonder what a political system would look like,
which systemically recognised the
eternal value of each human life,
wherever that life was located on
the planet,
and
which sought peace and equality between humans
as its first priority,
rather
than the protection of national interest
at the expense of those less
fortunate than ourselves.
This
way of living has the capacity to transform society,
and it begins with us.
Those
who are cared for by the good shepherd
have entered into a fullness of life,
which
offers a prophetic witness to the wider society
that there is an alternative way of
being human,
where
death is not the ultimate enemy,
and self preservation is not the
ultimate goal.
The
experience of abundant life, eternal life, ‘life in all its fullness’,
comes to us as the gift of the good
shepherd.
But
it would be wrong of me to imply that it is cost free!
Certainly,
Jesus never demanded nor demands money
in exchange for the fullness of life
that he offers,
and
any who seek to sell wholeness of life in Christ
are placing themselves at odds
with his free gift of abundant life available to all.
But,
as I said, there is a cost;
because entering into life eternal
means entering into the life of
Christ,
who
asks us to give ourselves for others,
just as he has already given himself
for us.
This
is no invoice we can pay and be done with,
it is rather a call on all that we
are,
all that we do, and all that we have;
a
call to begin to live lives dedicated to others,
and to seeing them also entering
into the free gift of abundant life,
that has been so graciously given to
us.
Jesus
is very clear that the gift of life eternal
is not something that people have
the liberty of keeping to themselves,
and
so he says that he also has other sheep that do not belong to this fold.
In
the context of the first century, he was talking about the fact
that the message of life eternal was
not something just for the Jews,
but was also a gift that must be
given to the gentiles.
And
in our context, it is similarly not something
just for those who come
to church Sunday by Sunday,
but it is also a gift for those who
have never been near a church,
and
may never do so.
This
gift of abundant living, that comes through the care of the good shepherd,
is good news for all.
And
we who have received this gift,
are those who must also take that
gift and share it with others,
through our words, by our deeds, and
with our whole lives.
But
as we do so, we bear witness to a new way of being human,
which offers the world beyond our
walls
a profound and prophetic message of
hope,
which
has the capacity to transform lives
and renew society,
as
others enter into the care of the good shepherd
and receive the gift of life
eternal.
As
Jesus put it, slightly earlier in John’s gospel, in chapter 6 (v.39):
This is the will of him who sent me,
that
I should lose nothing of all that he has given me,
but
raise it up on the last day.
Nothing
is lost,
nothing is wasted.
No
life is of no value,
and each moment is of eternal worth.
This
is the good news of Jesus Christ, the good shepherd.
Thanks
be to God.
No comments:
Post a Comment