The Shepherd ...

I saw the sheep rush past where I was waiting as the Collie chased them from one pasture to another. It was a vacation. I was in elementary school. We were visiting grandparents. I recall Prince, my grandfather’s Collie, delighting as he ran the sheep and promptly came back to walk with grandfather. Grandfather, as usual, ambled along on his crutches - as he did all the years that I knew him. I don’t know much about

Shepherds. Grandfather never claimed to be one. He had the sheep to help keep the Pastures near the house eaten down. He had cattle before. His later renters had cattle, too.

The Collie, however, seemed to be a good Shepherd. He’d listen to His Master and then direct sheep where they needed to go. They’d go from field to field. They’d go into a pen at night. The dog ruled. He was always out and about. He was a superb watch dog. Snakes, people, other animals were all subject to Prince’s rule. Prince was a joy. He romped and danced before me once when I came home from the hospital on crutches after surgery - crutches much like those of my grandfather. He stopped bouncing when grandfather quietly said, “No.” Nothing I could do could entice him to play without his Master’s consent.

I think about the Collie and his Master as I ponder Jesus as The Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd who gives His life for His sheep; all pastors are undershepherds at best. I think about the Collie as the undershepherd at the farm. I loved that Collie and his Master. Each had his own place in my affection. I knew they loved one another deeply.

An Australian Shepherd was the next dog. Another good dog, but not the same. I conducted the funeral for my grandfather, the Master of his dogs. I buried the second dog, loyal like the first, which waited years at the farm after His Master died.

As believers in Christ we are the sheep. Christ is The Good Shepherd. He is one who values and cares for us. The Good Shepherd cherishes us so much He died for us.

We do develop attachments to our pastors, Christ’s undershepherds. We love them; they love us. Yet, our attachment to Jesus is far greater. For Jesus is greater by far.

A pastor can disappoint. A pastor can move on, retire, or even die. The Good Shepherd died, but The Good Shepherd is risen and coming again at the end of the ages. We His sheep look for Him. We need Him. We heed His voice. We call out, “Come, Lord Jesus! Come!”

(Editor’s Note: This column is written by a different Littlefield pastor for the Leader-News each week. The columns are published on this page on Wednesdays.)