Because they know his voice
Preacher: Revd Tim Ditchfield, College Chaplain, King’s College London
Readings: Ezekiel 34:7-15; John 10:1-10
Ezekiel 34:7-15
7 Therefore, you shepherds, hear the word of the Lord: 8 As I live, says the Lord God, because my sheep have
become a prey, and my sheep have become food for all the wild animals, since there was no shepherd; and
because my shepherds have not searched for my sheep, but the shepherds have fed themselves, and have not
fed my sheep; 9 therefore, you shepherds, hear the word of the Lord: 10 Thus says the Lord God, I am against
the shepherds; and I will demand my sheep at their hand, and put a stop to their feeding the sheep; no longer
shall the shepherds feed themselves. I will rescue my sheep from their mouths, so that they may not be food
for them.
11 For thus says the Lord God: I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out. 12 As shepherds seek
out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep, so I will seek out my sheep. I will rescue them
from all the places to which they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness. 13 I will bring
them out from the peoples and gather them from the countries, and will bring them into their own land; and I
will feed them on the mountains of Israel, by the watercourses, and in all the inhabited parts of the land. 14 I
will feed them with good pasture, and the mountain heights of Israel shall be their pasture; there they shall lie
down in good grazing land, and they shall feed on rich pasture on the mountains of Israel. 15 I myself will be
the shepherd of my sheep, and I will make them lie down, says the Lord God.
John 10: 1-10
10 ‘Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is
a thief and a bandit. 2 The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. 3 The gatekeeper opens
the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4 When
he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice.
5 They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.’
6 Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.
7 So again Jesus said to them, ‘Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. 8 All who came before me are
thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. 9 I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be
saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. 10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I
came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.
I’m preaching on three short phrases today — just twelve words. Now you might be thinking that’s got to be
pretty good: twelve words can’t take too long. But you will be sadly disappointed — it can take a very long
time. I once heard a sermon that went on for 1 hour, 12 minutes, and 23 seconds (it was clocked by a friend),
and that was on a verse of just two words: Jesus wept. However, I’m probably not going to be that long. I
don’t really know yet.
Here are the twelve words, paraphrasing the words attributed to Jesus in John’s gospel reading this morning:
My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.
There’s a lot of stuff at this time of year in our lectionary readings about the Good Shepherd and how we are
like sheep. Obviously, it’s linked to two things. Firstly, the Resurrection. I say “obviously” about the
Resurrection because this Good Shepherd & sheep business seems to be an Easter theme, though I’m not
quite sure how that works.
But secondly, we’re on safer ground seeing a link between all this church talk of sheep and Good Shepherds
and spring, and to the new season of Scottish lamb. Think of the verse from Isaiah: All we like sheep. I can
agree with that one. I had some very nice shoulder of lamb baked in hay two weeks ago on Easter Sunday.
And the big question is: what is belonging to Jesus’ flock all about? What does it mean to be a sheep for Jesus
and have him as our Good Shepherd?
I’ve preached on this theme probably at some point in this Easter period every year for around forty years —
including once when I was on placement training to be a priest in Swaledale, preaching to a bunch of
Yorkshire farmers. A tough crowd for someone with no farming background and from Lancashire — and quite
frankly, I’m still scarred by the experience!
After my erudite sermon on the Greek words poimēn and Jesus as the archipoimēn, and how we were like
sheep in some idealised English pastoral scene, a farmer came up to me and told me I clearly didn’t know
much about sheep. He then went on to tell me how smelly and dim sheep were. So now I have a clearer grasp
of why the writers of the Scriptures describe us as sheep.
I don’t like being compared to a smelly, stupid, bleating sheep — and yet this is what Christians are compared
to again and again in the Bible. Of course, the Isaiah verse I mentioned before isn’t about the culinary uses of
sheep, but says, all we like sheep have gone astray. And that’s what bugs me about the Scriptures calling me
a sheep: a stupid animal that wanders off, gets lost, and needs rescuing. It bugs me because it’s true — again
and again and again. At least it is for me.
So, these three things from the passage: Jesus says,
My sheep hear my voice.
I know them,
and they follow me.
- My sheep hear my voice
Somehow, those who belong to Jesus — who call themselves Christians — hear his voice. A call. A hint. Not
literally hearing the voice of God for most of us, I suspect. I’ve never actually heard God speak, but through
faith there are perhaps things I recognise as the voice of Jesus speaking.
Rather like sheep recognising the voice of the shepherd. Now, having lived in Westminster for thirty-one
years, I have to say I don’t really know how sheep operate. But I do know cats – my family has been staff to
several over the years and one of our previous cats who’s gone to the great cat litter tray in the sky – Sprite —
who I think secretly quite liked me (though, of course, being a cat was too cool and aloof and would deny it
when challenged) — when she heard me humming in the bath, pushed the door open and came into the
bathroom because she was quite partial, for some bizarre reason known only to her, to drinking my bath
water. It’s not what’s said — or, in Sprite’s case, hummed — but the tone of voice that she recognised. Her
sister Pepsi would run and hide under the bed when she heard me.
This is what faith is all about — not, obviously, drinking bath water — but being aware of the possibility of
God speaking; being aware that God is very close all the time, perhaps humming — an idea I rather like —
hoping that we might just hear him in some way and come to see what’s happening, rather than heading off
to bed to hide.
Maybe something comes into our mind, and in faith we may recognise it as the voice of Jesus: give up your
seat for that person; say hello to him; offer to buy a sandwich for that homeless person we see each day; or
remind someone that God loves them. The secret is to recognise what is God speaking and what isn’t.
We can sometimes hear God’s voice more clearly at times, perhaps through the Scriptures — meditating on a
verse or a passage. I used to think I couldn’t meditate, and then I read a quote that said meditating is simply a
form of worrying. Now I’m very good at that, as I imagine many of us are.
- I know them
The key to our life as Christians, I am becoming more and more convinced, is not that we struggle to be good
people, or that we do lots of good things and have good times of whatever style of worship we engage in
(though all these things may be important — I don’t know) — but that the most important thing is that we are
known and loved by God.
The heart of our existence is about love and grace — the free gift of love from God. Not saying the right
prayers or doing the right things or even believing the right thing but knowing deep down that our God — our
maker, our redeemer, our parent, our friend, our lover, our mother hen, our potter (to use some scriptural
images) — knows us intimately and loves us.
And as Desmond Tutu put it so beautifully: nothing we do can make God love us more, and nothing we do can
make God love us less.
We can make God sad by being a bit of an arse — something I do most days at some point, though I try hard
not to — but it doesn’t stop God loving me, because God knows me. So, we hear God’s voice, which most of
all tells us that we are known and loved by God — and then the third thing naturally grows out of this.
- And they follow me
Follow the shepherd — not simply do lots of religion and good works, though they might happen, not know
which credal formulae to believe, though that might matter, — but simply follow where God leads: to the
person on the street who could probably do with a kind word and a hot drink; to go to the pub with the friend
who is struggling with depression; to working overseas; to becoming a teacher or a doctor, working in
international relations, becoming a physicist or astronomer, or even a Christian minister.
I don’t really know how to finish this sermon. I wrestled quite a bit trying to come up with a snappy
conclusion, and in the end, I realised there isn’t any good advice I can give you at this point.
Because only you know where God is leading you, and you only know where God is leading you when you
listen to the one who really does know you and love you better than anyone else.
So, the question, quite simply, is this: will you follow the shepherd?
My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.