Why Does Jesus Call Us “Sheep”?

“The sheep follow the shepherd, for they know his voice.” (John 10:4)

One of my spiritual mentors who has discipled me while I was still in seminary is my good buddy, Matt MacCollin. He and I went through a book together called A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23 by Phillip Keller. One of the things that stands out from that little book is a danger unique to sheep called being “cast” or “cast down.” He described it this way: 

“….even the largest, fattest, strongest and sometimes healthiest sheep can become ‘cast’ and be a casualty. The way it happens is this. A heavy, fat, or long-fleeced sheep will lie down comfortably in some little hollow or depression in the ground. It may roll on its side slightly to stretch out or relax. Suddenly the center of gravity in the body shifts so that it turns on its back far enough that the feet no longer touch the ground. It may feel a sense of panic and start to paw frantically. Frequently this only makes things worse. It rolls over even further. Now it is quite impossible for it to regain its feet.” 

As you read the book, you get the sense that sheep are pretty pathetic creatures! Without a shepherd, they really are helpless. Particularly when you think of flocks of sheep in the first century context.  

Shepherds spent all their lives with their sheep. In many ways, it was a lonely existence—just you and these wooly creatures 24/7.  

Today, shepherds generally agree that sheep are both stubborn and jumpy. They can be frightened by the smallest thing. And yet, they also can be stubbornly resistant about moving when they need to. 

God as Shepherd

In John 10, Jesus identifies Himself as the “Good Shepherd, who lays down His life for the sheep.” That’s a powerful image. 

God knows that we need pictures in our mind. God is invisible. And sometimes when we just rattle off God’s attributes, like “God is all-powerful,” “God is holy,” “God is love,” we can struggle to fit it all together. So God gave us pictures or illustrations of what He is like. 

One of the most pervasive themes in Scripture is this concept of God as Shepherd.

Jacob, whose name was later changed to “Israel,” was a shepherd. And he was the first to call God his “shepherd.”  

Probably the most famous psalm, Psalm 23, begins: 

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul. (Psalm 23:1-3, ESV) 

My dad encouraged me to memorize this psalm when I was still a little guy. I can remember reciting it over and over. And for that reason, this psalm has probably spoken to me more than any of the others. I can still remember a time when I was off at camp and feeling homesick, and I just started quoting Psalm 23 over and over. And it gave me peace. The image of the Lord as our Shepherd is powerful. 

Sheep Know Their Shepherd’s Voice

There are many other times we see this same image of God as our Shepherd: 

He will tend his flock like a shepherd;
    he will gather the lambs in his arms;
he will carry them in his bosom,
    and gently lead those that are with young. (Isaiah 40:11, ESV) 

In Ezekiel 34, when God uses this image of a shepherd as an indictment. He says that He made the kings of Israel to be like shepherds over His people. But instead of being faithful shepherds who cared for the ill or hungry sheep, they instead fed themselves and ignored the sheep entrusted to their care. 

So how does God respond?  

For thus says the Lord God: Behold, I, I myself will search for my sheep and will seek them out. As a shepherd seeks out his flock when he is among his sheep that have been scattered, so will I seek out my sheep, and I will rescue them from all places where they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness.” (Ezekiel 34:11-12, ESV) 

Think about how this image of a shepherd seeking out his sheep captures the heart of Jesus for lost sinners.

And of course, if God is our Shepherd, then we are His sheep. That might not be the most flattering image for us. If you’ve been around sheep for any length of time, you’re not really struck by how intelligent these creatures are. Nevertheless, it seems to be one of God’s favorite descriptions for us.

Know that the LORD, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. (Psalm 100:3, ESV) 

We have to ask ourselves not only Why is the Lord compared to a Shepherd? But also Why are we compared to sheep? In John 10, Jesus explains how vulnerable sheep are and how they need protection. 

Truly, truly, I say to you, he who does not enter the sheepfold by the door but climbs in by another way, that man is a thief and a robber. But he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. (John 10:1-2, ESV) 

In ancient times, a sheepfold was basically an area enclosed by a rock wall. Because the gate to the sheepfold was usually guarded, the thief would have to sneak in over the wall to snag a sheep. So the thief had to be sneaky under the cover of darkness, but Jesus makes it clear that a shepherd is known by his sheep. 

To him the gatekeeper opens. The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice. (John 10:3-4, ESV) 

In ancient times, a shepherd spent so much individual time with each of his sheep that he really did name every one of them. There was this intimate bond between them. 

An outsider coming up on his flock might think that they all look and act the same. It just looks like a bunch of random sheep. But the shepherd knew his sheep. He could tell you each of their names. If one was falling behind or had wandered off, the shepherd knew which one was missing. He knew the traits and temperament of each one.

Sheep Are Dependent on the Shepherd

Keeping in mind that Jesus is really talking about Himself here, this image helps us understand the heart Jesus has for us individually. To Jesus, you’re not just one more face in a crowd. Jesus knows everything about you. He knows what causes you fear. He knows every hair on your head. Our Savior is our Shepherd. 

Jesus says, “The sheep follow the shepherd, for they know His voice.” 

And sheep really are dependent on their shepherds. Especially back then, there was the constant danger of predators rushing in and dragging off one of your sheep. A shepherd had to be vigilant. I remember one professor saying that sheep are irrefutable proof that Darwinian evolution isn’t true, because they never could have survived on their own. In any case, the fact that sheep are so helpless without their shepherd teaches something about us. 

The image of sheep pictures how dependent we are on the Lord who knows each of us intimately. 

And as we hear Christ’s voice in Scripture, we know it’s His. We can follow Him, because we recognize His voice. How are you doing at listening to the Shepherd’s voice? 

Have thoughts on this post? I’d love to hear from you!

The Remarkable Compassion of God

By Jason Smith

The Return of the Prodigal Son by Rembrandt van Rijn

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him… “For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found” (Luke 15:20, 24).

Is it possible for any one of us to be too far gone from God’s perspective? Some may think so. They imagine God to be patient with people, but that eventually His patience runs out. In Christian circles, I often hear people describe certain individuals as “the hard cases” — those who seem so stubbornly resistant to God and His love that they are, we imagine, beyond hope.

I recently heard a man tell his story of Jesus rescuing him when he was at his absolute lowest point in life. He had been living on the streets, was addicted to heroin, and despised anything with a whiff of Christianity. Yet, to his astonishment, he crossed paths with a young woman who told him about the love God had for him in Jesus Christ. Many years later, in God’s marvelous timing, this man cried out to God for mercy, and God opened his heart to receive Christ. Although change in his life took time, he was immediately aware that he was a new man. Over the next few years, his life transformed dramatically. Thinking back to what God had done in his life, he said he now felt like “God’s trophy” of grace that God could show off to the world, as if to say, “Look what I can do in someone’s life.”

Relationship over Religion

When Jesus of Nazareth showed up on earth, He said some strange things. For example: “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Luke 5:32). To many, this sounded confusing. Wait, Jesus wants to hang out with those who rebel against God? I thought He only wanted to be with the morally upright?  They even nicknamed Jesus “friend of tax collectors and sinners” (Matthew 11:19). It was meant as an insult. Jesus pointed these Pharisees (admired for their obedience to the law) back to Hosea 6:6, where God says, “I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.” In other words, God was saying, “I don’t merely want your ritualistic sacrifices thoughtlessly brought to me like Baal or one of the countless other pagan gods. I want you to know Me.”

Jesus told a story to some of the religious elite in His day that captured what the heart of God is really like. These religious do-gooders imagined that they were on God’s good side. “After all,” they seemed to say, “Surely God will take into account all our moral efforts.” What they missed, however — and what I fear many who grew up in the church miss — is that God is more interested in a relationship with His children than with religious compliance.

A Lost Son

“There was a man who had two sons,” Jesus began (Luke 15:11). The younger, impetuous son had the audacity to ask his father for his share of the inheritance that was coming to him. Even today, if someone asked a parent for his inheritance early, they would be frowned upon. In ancient times, however, this would have been the equivalent to saying, “Father, I wish you were dead.” The younger son wanted his father’s stuff, but cared little for the father himself. But it is even more surprising that the father actually complied with his son’s wishes. The community would expect the father to revoke any expected inheritance and shun his son as an insolent boy.

Jesus goes on to say this foolish son travels to a “far country,” presumably so he can get away from his father and out from under all the household rules and restrictions. Now, in this land of the Gentiles, this Jewish boy was free to gratify every desire that was forbidden in his father’s house. No doubt this young man attracted many. He wore the finest robes, ate the most scrumptious meals, and had everything money could buy. This young fool squandered all his father’s hard-earned wealth on prostitutes and whatever else he craved in the moment (v. 30).

But eventually, this fool began to reap what he had sown. Just as he spent his final coin, a terrible famine afflicted the land. Therefore, Jesus says, “he began to be in need” (v. 14). The harsh realities of the fleeting satisfaction of sin, the transitory nature of wealth, and the unpredictable vagaries of life in a fallen world all came crashing down on him in a moment. In desperation, “he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs” (v. 15).

Jews considered swine “unclean” (Leviticus 11:7). To be hired by a Gentile to feed such animals was just shameful. It gets worse though: “He was longing to be fed with the pods that the pigs ate, and no one gave him anything” (Luke 15:16). Here was a man at the lowest of lows. Only a short time ago, he was the envy of the neighborhood, as he spent his wealth on every thrill and entertainment imaginable. Now, he sat in his rags, wallowing in the mud like a beast, envious of filthy swine because they at least had their pig slop.

He Came to Himself

It was in that pigsty that a thought occurred to him. For a season, the young man had attempted to push away any thought of his father altogether. But now, the thought of the man he had once so brazenly scorned entered his mind. “How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread,” he mused, “but I perish here with hunger!” (v. 17).

Jesus says, “He came to himself,” finally recognizing what a fool he had been. All the so-called friends he had acquired recently came and went with his cash. None of them had even the slightest care for him now that he was nothing but a miserable worm in their eyes. The painful thought dawned on him: he had turned his back on the one man who genuinely loved him. But after such a gross display of rebellion, would his father ever take him back, this son who had so impudently slapped him across the face by wishing he was dead?

As he starts the long journey home, the young man prepares his “I’m sorry” speech, reciting in his mind: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants” (vv. 18-19). The confession is sincere, no doubt, but from his plea we can hear the sickly strain of legalism. He calls himself “unworthy,” and he was certainly right, so far as that goes. But he imagines his only hope is for his father to graciously hire him as a slave. Perhaps he imagines he can one day pay off his grievous debt as a last-ditch effort to gain his father’s approval. It is significant that the only reason he’s willing to return home, with head hanging in shame, is his realization that the one he once called “Abba” is unlike anyone else he knows. His father is a generous man, eager to bless others.

His Father Saw Him

“And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion,” (v. 20). Oh, what precious words are these! While this pitiful son was still in the distance, perhaps before he ever saw his father, his father saw him. The father, who had been faithfully gazing at the horizon, finally saw that for which he had long hoped. But what a miserable looking fellow: dressed in rags, weak and starving frame, and covered in filth and shame. He was perhaps the most wretched and unlovely creature his father had ever seen. And yet, his father “felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him” (v. 20).

The ancient Greeks loved to show off their calves, but for a Jewish nobleman to gather up his flowing robes and race down the road in a dead sprint would have been unheard of. In fact, it would have brought him dishonor in the eyes of others. Do you see what is happening here? Whereas before the shameful sight would have been this stumbling reject returning to his home, now the father has, in a sense, traded places with his son. Because of his great love for his son, he is now the one bearing the shame. The son would return home not alone, but under the protective arm of his father.

The onlookers must have stared in amazement. Had not this pathetic fool spat in his father’s face? And now his father receives this rebel without a cause with open arms? Before the broken man can get a word out, his father is holding him against his chest and planting a kiss on his head. In fact, in the original Greek, it says, the father “kept on kissing him.” Can you imagine a more lavish display of acceptance? When was the last time you were greeted this way at a family reunion?

With quivering lips, the son tries to get out his confession and make his plea, but before he can even ask to be made a slave, the father interrupts him. “Bring quickly the best robe,” he commands the nearest servant, “and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet” (v. 22). The robe, the ring, and the shoes all symbolize one thing: this young man is the master’s son, not slave.

Though tears no doubt fill the father’s eyes, he loudly proclaims a feast will be held in his son’s honor. This is no time to mourn. It is time to celebrate! “For this my son was dead, and is alive again! He was lost, and is found!” As the New Living Translation puts it: “So the party began” (v. 24).

Our Compassionate Father

What follows at the end of this grand story that Jesus tells is actually the most disturbing. The elder brother, who is working out in the fields (as always), learns of his brother’s return and, rather than rejoicing, he responds with smug self-righteousness. How dare this foolish sinner show his face around here again!

The father, in yet another display of compassion and grace, goes out to the field and pleads for his elder son to come home. But, with curled lip, the elder son replies, “Look, these many years I have served you [literally, “slaved for you”], and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!” (vv. 29-30). The elder son’s bitter tone betrays his failure to ever really love his father. He sees all his acts of obedience as joyless slavery. He wanted to celebrate with “friends,” but never to delight in the father himself.

The tragedy is that although this elder son stayed home, he was just as lost as the younger son once was. The father tells him, “All that is mine is yours.” In other words, if you had only asked to delight in what is mine, I would have gladly celebrated with you. The younger son, though a wretched sinner, had returned to the arms of his father, recognizing the generosity of this old man. “It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found” (15:32).

Jesus told this parable so that we would have a renewed understanding of God. Norval Geldenhuys has rightly said, “So inexplicably wonderful is the love of God that He not merely forgives the repentant sinner, but actually goes to meet him and embraces him in His love and grace.”[1] No matter how long a sinner has lived in staunch rebellion, God is always eager to welcome him or her home. He runs out to meet the one hanging their head in shame. How vital it is to remember that all we have is by sheer grace, and when yet one more prodigal son finds grace in the arms of our compassionate Father, it is only right that we should celebrate.


[1] Norval Geldenhuys, The Gospel of Luke, New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1951), 408.


Eyes to See the Hurting

By Jason Smith

“Whoever oppresses a poor man insults his Maker, but he who is generous to the needy honors him” (Proverbs 14:31).

Sad Man (Cameron Cretney)

We’ve all been there. We pull up to the intersection and notice a man or woman on the corner holding a cardboard sign telling you of their distressing situation in life. A backpack or a dog can often be seen next to them. The temptation for us — for myself at least — is to look the other way. To pretend not to notice. Maybe we feel awkward, not knowing what to give or what to say. But if we are honest with ourselves, it can often be that we don’t want to notice them.

Here’s a radical thought: God always notices them. He takes note of their situation. God sees the homeless person, the hurting person, and the hungry person as just that: a full-fledged person. According to the Bible, every single human on the planet bears the image of God and therefore has inestimable value (Genesis 1:26-27). You can’t calculate the worth of someone who is made to know and reflect the God of infinite worth.

At the beginning of Acts 3, we read an interesting account about two of Jesus’s disciples encountering a beggar at the entrance of the temple. Most people passing by probably ignored the man, eager to get inside the temple — the place where one could really show one’s devotion to God. A lot could be said about the temple. However, it is worth noting the fascinating connection that Luke, the author of Acts, makes here. Like a master storyteller, Luke pulls several different plotlines together to show that what happens in this scene perfectly fits with God’s wise plan from eternity.

In the first chapter of Acts, Jesus’s final charge to His followers before His ascension into the clouds is to wait for the Holy Spirit (Acts 1:5, 8). The Holy Spirit’s arrival meant that God’s very power and presence would “come upon” them — not in the flash of a mere moment but permanently. In this way, God’s people would be empowered to rightly represent God’s character and share God’s message of how to be reconciled to Him. In Acts 2, several Jesus followers gather in one house, as if waiting expectantly for God’s next move. The Holy Spirit does indeed arrive with the blast of a localized hurricane and, oddly, with little tongues of fire hovering over each person’s head. Without any context, this would look pretty bizarre — like something out of a Harry Potter novel. And yet, we must remind ourselves, God always has His reasons.

In the Old Testament, fire often indicated the presence of God (Exodus 3:1-5; 19:18; 24:17). When the children of Israel streamed out of Egypt in the exodus, a pillar of fire led them by night, signaling God’s presence with His people. After the tabernacle in the desert was built, the same pillar of fire hovered above it, reminding the people daily of their Creator’s nearness and desire to dwell with mere mortals (Exodus 40:38). Years later, when the temple is built in Jerusalem, once again fire shows up, visibly manifesting the presence of an invisible God (2 Chronicles 7:1). With Acts 2 and the arrival of the Holy Spirit, Luke highlights the same truth: God has come near. However, now He is not just dwelling with but in His people. In other words, the people of God are the new tabernacles and temples.

Fast forward to Acts 3, and we find Peter and John, now indwelled by the Holy Spirit, heading toward the temple. They are on their way to church, yet they don’t let their piety obscure their view of the lame beggar. Luke writes, “Seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked to receive alms. And Peter directed his gaze at him, as did John, and said, ‘Look at us’” (Acts 3:3-4). The beggar makes himself visible, and Peter does not look the other way. In fact, he looks him square in the eyes and tells the beggar, “Look at us.” This man who had been “lame from birth” needed to see that he was seen (v. 2). Throughout his life, this man had probably gotten used to being overlooked. In all those years of being carried around everywhere, perhaps he’d decided he was more a burden than a blessing to others. Nevertheless, with eyes locked on the man, Peter tells him, “Look at us. We notice you.” And more importantly, by implication, God notices you.

Peter and John, now filled with God’s presence and love, had eyes to see this man in a new and supernatural way. Rather than barring this man from the temple, the place where God’s glory traditionally dwelled, Peter and John drew near, letting him know God was present outside the temple too. No longer was he seen as just a drain on society, or even someone to pity but not value. Peter noticed the man and offered him not money — he had none — but healing “in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth” (v. 6). In short order, the man began “walking and leaping and praising God” (v. 8). Perhaps with a tear of joy trickling down his face, this grown man bounded around like a kid in a candy store for the very first time. More than “silver and gold,” which do not last, what this man most needed was the touch of God. The miraculous healing offered Peter the rapt attention of the stupefied onlookers. So he seized the opportunity to point them to God’s compassionate character seen in the cross and resurrection of Jesus (vv. 12-26).

When we have eyes to see the hurting around us each day, who knows what might happen? Rather than offering a prescription detailing how to love each hurting person you encounter, I simply want to point out from Acts 3 the importance God places on seeing the hurting person in the first place. I suspect that God will lead you from there to love that person after the pattern of Jesus.

Prayer: Father God, please open my eyes to see the hurting person as You see them. Remind me that when I honor the poor I am honoring You (Proverbs 14:31).

Photo credit: Cameron Cretney