Rev David M. Bibbee,
Pastor
About Pastor David

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60455 CR 113
Elkhart, IN 46517
Phone: 574-875-7800
Fax: 574-875-7885

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Creekside Church
Sermon of April 13, 2008

"The Security Gate"
John 10:1-10

Rev. David Bibbee

 


As you know, Tim McFadden is a psychiatrist. He is not a "shrink." I think of him as a "stretch." Tim has dedicated his life to helping stressed people. He stretches their perspectives to see their lives from another perspective. Tim helps people discover strengths that help them cope with the strain of living in tough, trying times.

Psychiatrists' stereotypes abound. Their offices do not have therapy couches. They don't respond to everything with, "Ummm, hummm." They do not wear round-lensed glasses and have unkept hair. I trust he won't hold the following stereotype of the doctor-patient relationship against me.

Imagine a patient enters Tim's office and takes a seat. They exchange pleasantries. Then, Tim says, "Tell me about yourself." The man replies, "My name is Chuck." "What do you do for a living, Chuck?" "I'm a car," Wanting to establish a trusting bond, Tim doesn't challenge Chuck's assertion. "I see…" Tim says. "What make and model are you??" "A Jeep Cherokee Sport." "I see…" Tim replies. "Do you stay in the garage or on the street?" Chuck prefers the garage because he "starts hard" in cold weather. Tim suggests another appointment.

Chuck comes to the next appointment and says, "Dr. McFadden, you're incredible. You've only seen me once, and you've brought me back to reality. I'm not a car." "I see…" Tim says. "This may surprise you, I'm Nostradomis. Perhaps you know about me from the checkout lane tabloids. I predict the future." "I see…" Tim replies. In subsequent meetings Tim learns that Chuck is also a Space Shuttle astronaut, a CIA operative, the reincarnation of Napoleon, and the Goodyear Blimp. Tim has a flash of insight--something is amiss with Chuck.

Now, imagine Jesus is referred to Tim. As he listens, Tim writes on his clipboard: "Jesus has identity issues." Of course, Jesus knew his identity, and but he used a number of familiar images to reveal himself.

The famed actor, Charlton Hesston, died this week. His most memorable performance was playing Moses in Cecil DeMill's, "The Ten Commandments." Do you recall the scene on Mount Sinai when Moses asks the burning bush, "When I go to Pharaoh who shall I say sent me?" Then God gives his name -- "I am who I am. Say 'I am' sent me."

John brings this story to mind in a series of "I am" passages. Jesus used different and familiar images to reveal who he was and why he had come. The images change from one chapter to the next. He says, I am the bread of life. "I am the light of the world." He is a good shepherd. He is the resurrection and the life. He is the vine. He is the way, the truth, and the life. And in chapter 10 is another "I am" image -- one we turn our attention to today.

But first, a little primer in shepherding and sheep. I never met a shepherd. I know a border collie named Halley, but that's as close as I get. Shepherds were known for their fierce protection. They were always vigilant, scanning the landscape for carnivores and strays. They went to great lengths and took great risks to find lost sheep.

You've heard that sheep aren't the brightest animals in the barnyard. They have minds of their own. They have a lousy sense of direction. They get lost roaming where the grass seems a little greener. They've a lot like us! But researchers say our perception of the wooly wanderers should change. Tests have shown that sheep can remember and recognize up to fifty different images.

At night, shepherds brought their flocks to a watering hole. The herds got mixed together to the point that the shepherds couldn't tell one sheep from another. So how did they sort the flocks? Sheep were fond of their shepherds. They loved the security of his presence. All he had to do was call them. They knew his voice and responded to it. They followed that voice, and that voice only. Jesus said, "He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. They will not follow a stranger."

There were also small enclosures that held single flocks. The perimeter was walls of stacked stones barely four feet high. There was one way in and out. The entrance had no gate. At night, the shepherd laid across the opening. Sheep wouldn't step over him. Neither would thieves. They had to jump the wall to steal sheep. The shepherd was the gate that provided protection and passage.

"Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep," Jesus said. "Whoever enters by me will be saved and will come in and go out and find pasture." Jesus the gate doesn't have the same appeal as Jesus the shepherd.

Many of you have seen the mural history of the Church of the Brethren in the Camp Mack auditorium. They were painted by a Brethren artist and pastor, Medford Neher. In addition to the murals, Neher did commissioned paintings for churches in Ohio. About seven years ago I discovered that Medford Neher painted the large as-life picture of Jesus that for many years was the focal point in the sanctuary of my home church.

I studied it every Sunday. Jesus filled the foreground. His right hand held a shepherd's staff. His left arm cradled a lamb with a bandaged leg. Behind Jesus, a flock of sheep follows along the lush green banks of a flowing stream. The serenity and calm of that painting shaped my understanding of Jesus.

I can relate to the good shepherd. The gate doesn't grab me. But let's consider its function. A gate is a boundary between inside and outside. A gate determines what belongs inside and what stays outside. Inside is shelter. Outside, the storm. Inside is safety. Outside is danger. Inside, people care for each other. Outside, you're on your own. Inside is a familiar voice. Outside, the clamor of competing voices. Inside, abundant life. Outside, abundant choices promising what cannot be delivered.

In John 11, Jesus said rooms have been reserved for us with him in eternity. But reservations have been made for us here as well -- in his fold. We come in for nurture and nourishment -- to lose ourselves in the wonder, love, and praise of worship -- to be "sheep-shaped" people who pray for and support fellow Christians. We enter his fold and rejoice in the knowledge that no matter what life does to us, it cannot destroy the faith within us. What a wonderful place to be -- inside the gate. But notice something about the gate. There is no lock on it.

We're not allowed to lock ourselves in. We can't hunker down all safe and cozy and not care what happens outside. The gate can't be locked to keep out the people who aren't like us. Jesus is the one who determines who gets in and who comes out. We're sheep. The "judgment call" isn't our prerogative. We heed the shepherd's voice and follow his leads, assured that when he gather's his flock from down the halls of time, there will be lots of surprises.

Jesus doesn't lock us up to keep us from the world. Once we go through the gate to delight in green pastures and be assured we always will belong to him, we are able to venture outside the gate. When we pass the gate we're vulnerable to sheep stealers. The voices of slick peddlers will try to fleece us with the newest toys, the latest comforts, the fastest way to a desirable, sexy body, and convince us that the way to live is to have everything we want.

Once you've been inside the gate, however, you know better. You will venture into our messed-up world less concerned about your own well being than you are challenged to usher others from death to abundant life the gatekeeper provides.

I have a fine little book called Lessons From a Sheepdog by Phillip Keller, a modern-day shepherd in British Columbia. Keller was trying to rehabilitate a border collie in order to save her life. Abused by her first owner, she would be put down if Keller couldn't shape her up in six weeks. The first two weeks the collie he named Lass did nothing but snap and snarl and battle the lead line that secured her. Sensing she would never warm to his friendship while tied to the line, Keller cut her free. In a flash she fled to the hills. Four days passed without seeing her. Then, while perusing his flock, he spotted her on a distant bluff. He brought back food and water and placed it on the spot. The next day it was gone.

Despite Keller's best efforts, Lass wouldn't come near. The abuse had been too much to let her trust. He grieved because Lass was a tremendous animal -- beautiful and intelligent. But Keller was losing hope. As he reflected on the shepherd-dog relationship, he pondered the human-divine relationship. He wrote:

"We ourselves choose what our end will be. We are free to follow our own feeble, foolish ways, or we are free to follow Him who came to deliver us from the despair of our own dilemma.

It was with such tremendous truths surging through my own spirit that I would go out at twilight and try to draw this irascible creature to myself. Steadily, my hopes grew dimmer. The period of six weeks had almost run out. The hour of reckoning was around the corner. Lass's prospects were fading.

Then one beautiful summer evening the sun was setting in a spectacle of golden glory over the horizon. The mingled colors of rose, lavender, gold and scarlet were reflected in the sea. In the foreground my flock fed peacefully at the ocean edge. It was utterly still, breathtaking -- a scene which transported one into a sense of wondrous serenity. Lass was not even foremost in my mind at the time.

But suddenly, softly, almost imperceptibly amid my reverie I sensed the pensive, hesitant, first faint touch of a warm, soft nose touching my hands held behind my back. A thrill of exquisite delight swept over me. Lass had come! Contact had been made. The distance between us had been crossed!"

In John 10:16 Jesus said, "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." Jesus, the resurrection and the life; the way, the truth, and the life; the good, good shepherd; the gate between abundant life and abundant despair, has made us his flock.

As he has led us to green pastures and still waters, Jesus the gate sends out into the risky world with the message that the distance between God and humanity has been crossed.



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