From John 10:7b-16 (NRSV):

“Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep ... Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. … I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away — and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, ... I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.”

Today’s devotional in the Upper Room magazine particularly struck a chord with me. The author noted the particularly descriptive term of “pastor.”

The Scripture reading was that of John 10, which is built around the shepherd. In Spanish, the shepherd is the pastor. Thus, for a church congregation to be led by a pastor is a good and pleasing idea. And so my mind smiled and was pleased.

But then Texas history came rushing to the forefront with the realization that we are cattle ranchers, not sheep herders! We mount our beautiful steeds loaded with powerful cannons of defense (like the Winchester rifle) and race off to the range.

There, we find our herd lazily grazing upon the sparse grasses of an overworked and under-watered land. Knowing they do not have the understanding required to naturally motivate them to move to greener pastures, we then shout at them to move on in a particular direction.

We know from experience that riding over in the direction they need to move and calling will not produce anything more than a few blank stares. So we get behind the herd and begin to drive them in the direction they need to go.

It’s for their own good, of course. They just don’t understand it enough to do it on their own. Drive on, cowboy. Drive on.

“I am the good shepherd.” Jesus did not say, “I am the good herder” or “I am the good driver.” The shepherd knows his flock, cares for his flock, protects his flock, and calls to them tenderly — at least most of the time.

And sheep, being sheep, look forward to being led in the direction they need to go.

They must be a particularly trusting lot.

They know instinctively that they need to be in company, one with another.

Occasionally, one may stray off to new pastureland and get lost from the rest, but for the most part they stay together, working together, eating together, sleeping together — and particularly listening to and listening for the shepherd.

So where the shepherd walks, they walk with him, listening to his voice and enjoying his leadership and the fruits of the journey.

But we Americans are raised with a basic ideal of individualism. We are raised to be the decision makers, the leaders, the chief executive officers of our lives.

So, sometimes, I wonder just what we have chosen to be.

As Christians, each of us has, at one time or another, confessed that we cannot be what we are called to be without the help of the One who is much greater than we, Jesus Christ, the One we call Lord.

At that time, we put on the sheep’s clothing. With all the issues facing us economically, politically, socially, and in the family, it is my prayer we Christians remember that we wear the soft wool of the sheep, not the rough hide of the cow or the wolf.

Our ears must be attuned to the voice of the Good Shepherd, not the radio commentator or the newscaster or the irate neighbor. We are not called to be cattle. Our leaders are not to be drivers.

It is my prayer our leaders be pastors who call to their own — pastors who listen themselves to the One who calls us all to green pastures and leads us beside the still waters, so that there may truly be “one flock, one shepherd.”

Prather is pastor of Lake Palestine United Methodist Church near Chandler.