“Shepherd Is Enough” (Ps 23; John 10) - Enough III -

 

*Francisco de Zurbarán, The Crucified Christ with a Painter (1650) 

Ten Characteristics of Sheep
In his book The Way of the Shepherd, Kevin Leman describes ten characteristics of sheep. First, sheep have poor eyesight. A shepherd often bells the leading sheep so the rest of the flock can follow. Second, sheep are not very smart. They really know how to do one thing – eat grass. Third, sheep easily fall. Fourth, sheep are easily “cast” – flipped over on their backs. Fifth, when they are cast, sheep cannot get up on their own. They will die unless the shepherd lifts them. Sixth, sheep are selfish and stubborn. Seventh, sheep have no sense of direction. Eighth, sheep go back the way they had come. Ninth, sheep are defenseless and vulnerable. They can only run. Tenth, sheep become silent when facing death. In short, sheep are helpless. They cannot survive without a shepherd.

The Lord Is My Shepherd
I don’t know about you, but for me, I see myself in these sheep. David opens Psalm 23 this way: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” (v. 1) We confess the same. But many of us do not feel content. We feel anxious. We feel empty. Why is that? Because contentment does not happen by accident. Contentment must be cultivated. God is always with us. But we often don’t sense his presence. That awareness – like contentment – must be practiced and nurtured.

David continues, “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadth me beside the still waters.” (v. 2) When we hear the phrase “green pastures and still waters,” we picture the Promised Land – a land flowing with milk and honey. But the actual landscape of Canaan looks barren and dry.

In Deuteronomy 11, Moses compares Egypt and Canaan. Egypt is fertile, predictable, safe. It has the Nile, yearly floods, rich soil. From a human point of view, Egypt is the real land flowing with milk and honey. Canaan, on the other hand, depends entirely on rain – on God. It is vulnerable. It is unpredictable. It requires trust. So why does Scripture call Canaan “a land flowing with milk and honey”? Moses tells us: “The land the Lord your God cares for. His eyes are always upon it.” (v. 12) Canaan is blessed not because of its climate but because of its God. It is the place where life becomes fruitful, only when we walk with the Shepherd. So, in the wilderness, between Egypt and Canaan, Israel had to learn to trust and follow the Shepherd – to gather manna daily, to move with the cloud and fire. Only when the Lord is my Shepherd, do we find true contentment in him.

In the Death Valley
There is a time for everything – a time to stand on the mountain top, and a time to walk through the valley. Years ago, Joyce and I traveled through Death Valley. We became lost at night. The GPS stopped working. The car was struggling. Abe was an infant, crying the whole time. We felt lost, tired, and small. We were literally in Death Valley.

Life often feels like that. We face pressures from all sides with no clear way out. David knew that feeling well. At his lowest, he prayed, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” (v. 4) If we fold Psalm 23 in Hebrew directly in half, we find the center phrase: “For you are with me.” Immanuel. God is with us. Not the absence of danger, but the presence of the Shepherd.

Death Valley can be a time of grief, a medical diagnosis, a crisis of faith, a depression that will not lift. Martin Luther battled deep depression. Charles Spurgeon, perhaps the greatest preacher in history, lived with chronic depression for most of his life. Yet both finished strong, not because they were strong, but because God was with them.

Hesed
David continues, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” (v. 6a) The word “mercy” here is hesed – one of the richest words in the Hebrew Bible. Hesed means covenantal love – love with a sacrifice, commitment, vow attached. It is the love Ruth showed Naomi: “Wherever you go, I will go” It is the love David showed Mephibosheth, welcoming him to eat at the king’s table for life, for Jonathan’s sake.

The greatest expression of hesed appears in John 10, where Jesus says four times, “The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” Our safety is not in our weak grip on him, but his strong hold on us. His covenantal love pursues us all the days of our lives.

Agnus Dei
Christ’s love is Hesed love. He came not only to be with us, but to take our place. Though Jesus is the Shepherd, he became one of us. He became the Lamb of God. “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29) Francisco Zurbarán captures this in Agnus Dei. The lamb lies bound upon the altar – silent, willing, prepared to die. The painting is both beautiful and haunting. Peter puts it this way:

“He himself bore our sins in his body on the cross, so that, free from sins, we might live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed. For you were going astray like sheep, but now you have returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls.” (1 Peter 2:24-25)

Zurbarán himself lived in the shadow of the famous painter Velázquez. His work later fell out of favor because of religious and political climate changes. He died poor and forgotten. Yet his final painting was Crucified Christ (c. 1660). He had painted the crucified Christ many times, but in this last one, he placed himself at the foot of the cross, standing in awe, whispering with faith: “Jesus is the Lamb of God. And he is my Shepherd.”

The Shepherd Is Enough
At a Christian Conference a Chinese pastor shared his testimony after spending 18 years in prison for his faith. The guards gave him the worst duty – emptying the human waste cesspool, because they knew he was a pastor. But they didn’t know in those years how he actually enjoyed working there. It was the only place he could be alone. The guards refused to come near because of the smell. There he could pray and sing to the Lord as loudly as he needed. His favorite hymn was “In the Garden.” He always loved this hymn, but in the cesspool he learned its true meaning.

I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses;
And the voice I hear falling on my ear;
The Son of God discloses.

And he walks with me, and he talks with me,
And he tells me I am his own,
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known.

The pastor said, “Again and again as I sang this hymn in the cesspool, I experienced the Lord’s presence. He never left me or forsook me. And so I survived and the cesspool became my private garden.”[1]

Are you going through a dark valley? Are you afraid? Do you feel alone or forgotten? Remember this truth: The Shepherd is with us. The Shepherd laid down his life for us. He was abandoned on the cross, so that we would never be abandoned. The Shepherd’s Hesed – his covenantal love – pursues us today, tomorrow, and forever. Let us come to the cross and place ourselves in the scene. Let us stand in awe and whisper, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.” Our Shepherd is enough.

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[1] Gordon MacDonald, The Life God Blesses: Weathering the Storms of Life That Threaten the Soul (Thomas Nelson, 1997), 226.

“Manna Is Enough” (Numbers 11:4-9) – Enough II -

*Photo: Fra Angelico’s The Mocking of Christ (1440-42)

“How Much Land Does a Man Need?”
Leo Tolstoy wrote a short story called, “How much land does a man need?” It’s about a peasant named Pahom. At first, Pahom is a content, hardworking man. But one day, he makes a mistake that many of us make. He starts thinking that more land will make life better. So he buys more land. Then he hears an even better deal. A landowner promises to give him all the land he can walk around in a day for a very cheap price. But there is one condition: he must return to his starting point before sunset. Pahom is thrilled. He believes he can cover a great distance. He walks and walks, marking out more and more land. But as the sun begins to set, he realizes that he’s too far away. Desperate, he runs back toward the starting point as fast as he can. He finally reaches it just as the sun sets. People cheer his great fortune, but Pahom collapses and dies on the spot. His servant buries him in a grave only six feet long. And that grave gives the final answer to the question, “How much land does a man need?” Just six feet.

Manna
When the Israelites journeyed through the wilderness, God provided them with manna every single day. The Bible says manna looked like small coriander seed, and its color was like resin. Each morning it came down like thin flakes on the desert surface. The people would roam around and collect it. They would boil it in pots or make cakes out of it. And it tasted like buttered cakes. Somehow this simple, mysterious food had all nutrition they needed for the journey. In Deuteronomy 8:4 Moses reminded them, “Your clothes did not wear out and your feet did not swell during these forty years.” No vitamin deficiency, no lack of strength.

Manna was enough. But the people said, “Manna is not enough.” They complained, “Oh, how we remember the fish we used to eat in Egypt for free! And the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic! But now our strength is dried up (because of this manna!). There is nothing but this manna!” (Num 11:5-6) Later, they even said, “We detest this miserable food!” (21:5) They despised the very bread that kept them alive. But the truth is, manna was enough. Manna was their bread of life.

Bread of Heaven
In John 6, after Jesus fed the five thousand, the people followed him eagerly. But Jesus saw their hearts and said, “You are looking for me not because you saw the signs (not because you saw God in my actions) but because I fed you, filled your stomachs (cf. John 6:16 MSG). They asked for more, “Show us another sign that we can see and believe you! What will you do for us?” They continued, “Our ancestors ate manna in the wilderness – the bread from heaven.” Jesus replied, “I AM the bread from heaven. In fact, I am the better and true manna. Your ancestors ate manna in the wilderness and died. But whoever believes in me will never go hungry, never die, but will have eternal life.” They grumbled, “We know who you are – you are Joseph’s son. Who do you think you are?” But Jesus replied, “I am the true manna. My flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks blood has eternal life.” After this, many of them were deeply offended, saying, “This message is hard. Who can hear it?” They despised Jesus and rejected him.

The Mocking of Christ
Fra Angelico’s painting, The Mocking of Christ, captures this moment in a haunting way. In his painting, Jesus is blindfolded. He cannot see the ones who strike or spit. Angelico invites us to see this scene from Christ’s perspective. We, the viewers, can only see hands that hit and faces that spit as Jesus did.

So who mocked Jesus? Who killed Jesus? We might say it was the “Roman soldiers,” or “Pontius Pilate,” or “Judas Iscariot,” or the “Jewish leaders.” But by leaving out the specific mockers in this painting, perhaps, the artist is inviting us to ask a deeper question: “Were you there?” In Matthew 23, Jesus said to the religious leaders, “You build tombs and memorials for prophets, saying, ‘If we had lived in our ancestors’ days, we wouldn’t have joined them in killing the prophets.’ But you are doing exactly same things.” (cf. Matt 23:29-32) The truth is, the religious leaders are us.

After World War II, Adolf Eichmann, one of the key organizers of the Holocaust, was finally captured and put on trial in Jerusalem. The world watched closely. Millions expected to see a monster – someone with a cruel face, maybe a voice filled with hatred. But when Eichmann walked into the courtroom, people were shocked. He looked so… ordinary. A quiet man in a suit. Calm. Polite. Even respectful. He didn’t look like the face of evil. He looked like a clerk, a teacher, a neighbor. When asked how he could take part in such evil, his defense was simple. He said, “I was just following orders.”

Philosopher Hannah Arendt, who witnessed the trial, called it “the banality of evil.” She meant this: that great evil is often done by very ordinary people, who simply do what everyone else does without thinking. That is the hard truth about sin. When we read the story of the crucifixion, we tend to think, “If I were there, I’d be different.” But would we? It wasn’t just the Romans. It wasn’t just the religious leaders. It was the crowd, “ordinary people,” shouting, “Crucify Him!” The truth is, that crowd still lives in us. The face that spits could be mine. The hand that strikes could be yours.

Is Manna Enough?
But here’s the good news. When we despised Jesus, he forgave us, saying, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” When we rejected him, he carried our sin and its consequence – our separation from God, saying, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” At the cross, Jesus took our sin, our rebellion, our conformity to this world. And in exchange, he gave us his righteousness. That love melts our hearts. That love compels our souls. That love becomes our true manna.

As Corie Ten Boom said, when we look around, we get hopeless. When we look within, we become depressed. But when we loot at Jesus, we find rest. God’s way of salvation is always and still Jesus. His body was broken. His blood was shed.

Back to Angelico’s painting. Mother Mary and Saint Dominic appear sorrowful yet peaceful. They invite us to join them in meditation and worship, saying, “Were you there? Then, turn from your ways. Come, let us adore him!” So come, let us repent and turn to God. Let us come and eat this bread day by day. Let us meditate on his suffering, remember his death, adore him and savor him day by day. And we will find our souls satisfied in him. Jesus is the one and only true substance for our journey. Jesus is enough.

Lord, you are more precious than silver.

Lord, you are more costly than gold.

Lord, you are more beautiful than diamond.

And nothing I desire compares with you.

“Grace Is Enough” (Ecclesiastes 1:12-18) - Enough I -

 

*Edilberto Merida, Peru, Jesus on the Cross, 1996, ceramic corpus on wooden cross

Man’s Search for Meaning
Viktor Frankl was a psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor. While living in a death camp, he made a powerful observation. He noticed that people tended to become one of two kinds. Some grew bitter, angry, and cynical. They lost hope. Some even betrayed their fellow prisoners to survive another day. But there were others, a handful of people, who stayed kind and strong. They shared what little they had. They encouraged others. They even took the blame for others’ mistakes.

Frankl asked, “What made the difference?” He realized this: those who had placed the meaning of their lives in something the death camp could take away – family, work, success, power, or health –eventually lost everything, including their will to live. But those who found their meaning in something the death camp could not take away, something beyond this world, such as faith and God, stood firm.

Meaningless under the Sun
That’s exactly what the writer of Ecclesiastes is wrestling with. He looks around the world and says, “Everything is meaningless under the sun.” He’s searching for something death cannot take away – something eternal.

In today’s passage, the author introduces himself, saying, “I am the Teacher (Professor). I was king over Israel in Jerusalem.” (v. 12) Here King Solomon speaks as a teacher, almost like an actor on stage. He is acting out two very different attitudes toward life, not because they are his final convictions, but to help us see and learn from them. At times, he speaks like a pessimist, saying, “Everything is meaningless!” At other times, he sounds like a hedonist, saying, “Eat, drink, and enjoy life!” Through these contrasts, Solomon is guiding us toward what we might call “Christian realism” — seeing life honestly as it is, often broken, yet still filled with hope in God.

In verse 14, the Teacher says, “Everything is meaningless.” But there is one condition. He says, “Everything is meaningless under the sun.” In other words, “If this life (“life under the sun”) is all there is, yes, everything is meaningless. But there is more! There is a life beyond the sun — a life to come!” The Teacher is telling us that recognizing life’s meaninglessness under the sun is not despair. It’s a doorway. It opens a thirst for God, a longing for eternity.

Grace Is Enough
For Paul, that doorway took a different name – a “thorn.” He pleaded with the Lord three times to remove it. But Jesus said, “My grace is enough for you, because power is made perfect in weakness.” After this, Paul says, “Therefore, I am all right with weaknesses, disasters, harassments, and stressful situations for the sake of Christ, because when I’m weak, then I’m strong.” (2 Cor 12:10 CEB) For Paul, that thorn became a door – a door through which he learned to accept weakness, embrace brokenness, and depend fully on Christ. It was his way of living not just under the sun, but for eternity.

Lately, I’ve been reading the autobiography of Alexei Navalny, a Russian lawyer, anti-corruption activist who boldly stand up to Putin. He was poisoned, yet miraculously survived. After treatment in Germany, he could have stayed in safety. But he returned to Russia, because he loved his country, and because he loved God. He was a devoted Christian. Not long after, he was arrested, moved from one harsh prison to another, eventually died in prison in February 2024. What he endured was unimaginable. But what amazed me most was how positive and cheerful he remained to the end. He didn’t grow bitter or resentful. He knew he might never see the fruit of his work under the sun, yet he trusted in God. He put his hope and meaning not in success, but in something eternal. He was a saint of our day, a Christian realist, standing with one foot in this broken world, and the other in God’s eternal kingdom.

Look Up, Lift Up
The world we live in is unfair, unjust, and deeply broken. Paul was wrongfully accused and suffered for his faith. Navalny was wrongfully charged and mistreated, accused of crimes he did not commit: embezzlement, contempt of court, vandalism, even terrorism. No evidence. Yet he was convicted, abused, tortured.

This reminds us of something far greater. Jesus, the Son of God, was also wrongfully accused, condemned, and executed. But unlike any other victim, his suffering was not meaningless under the sun. On the cross, he took our place — our sin, our brokenness, our injustice. When Jesus said, “It is finished,” he wasn’t simply marking the end of his earthly life. He was saying, “It’s all paid for. The case is closed.” Jesus took all the cruelty and injustice of this world upon himself, and he redeemed it.

In Merida’s artwork, Jesus on the Cross, the artist gives Jesus oversized hands and feet. Look first at his feet. Jesus always walked at three miles per hour, slow enough to meet the widow, to touch the leper, to heal the sick. He walked on those feet into every valley of despair, up the hill of Golgotha to finish the work and close the case. Then look at His hands. Even as they were nailed to the cross, his hands remained open. Open and inviting, never any clenched fists. With these hands, Jesus blessed children, lifted the crippled, broke bread. Big hands — big enough to hold the whole world. We almost hear the artist whisper, “Look up, lift up!”[1]

The Best Is Yet to Come
To me, all our saints are like “stars” in my heart. I get so easily distracted or preoccupied with things “under the sun”. But our saints remind me to look up, lift up, set my heart on things above. When I sing in the choir, I think of Patty Crawford – not just her beautiful voice but her faithfulness. When I run the dishwasher, I think of David Guy – his kindness and his labor of love. When I feel like I am not making a difference, I think of Bob Anderson – his warmth, his encouragement, his faith after doubt. Our saints are not only cheering us on, but also, they are pointing us to Christ and his kingdom.

I once read about a woman diagnosed with cancer and was given three months to live. So she contacted her pastor and planed her funeral together – which hymns to sung, what Scriptures to read. But before the pastor left, she said, “One more thing. This is important. I want to be buried a fork in my right hand.” The pastor was puzzled. She smiled. “In all my years going to church functions, whenever food was involved, my favorite part was when whoever was cleaning dishes of the main course would lean over and say, ‘Keep your fork.’ That always made me smile, because it meant something great was coming, like pie or cake! So I just want people to see me there in my casket with a fork in my hand, and I want them to wonder, ‘What’s with the fork?’ Then I want you to tell them, “Something better is coming. Keep your fork.” And when she passed away, at her funeral, the pastor told that story. And everyone smiled, because they knew. For those who die in Christ, this is not a day of defeat. It’s a day of celebration. The real feast is just beginning. Something better is coming.[2]

The Bible says, “Those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever.” (Daniel 12:3, NRSV) So today, we give thanks to God for our saints, who tells us again and again, “Keep your fork.” May we too live for eternity, keep our fork, and lead many to Christ. Amen.

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[1] Ron O’Grady, Christ for All People (Orbis Books, 2001), 128-9.

[2] John Ortberg, If You Want to Walk on Water, You've Got to Get Out of the Boat (p. 170). Zondervan. Kindle Edition.