“The Good Shepherd”
First Congregational Church – Wauwatosa, Wisconsin
4th Sunday of Easter (Youth Sunday)– April 29, 2007
Rev. Robert J. Brink
[Text: Psalm 23]

This morning, I'm going to give you a glimpse into the mind of an average American teen. One of our Pilgrim Fellowship members will read the text, and I'll give you the play by play from Joe Average Teenager.

The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.

"You're right I don't want. If the Lord is my shepherd, then I'm what, a sheep? I don't think so."

He makes me lie down in green pastures;

"Makes me? Nobody makes me do anything. I'll lie down when I'm good and ready, thank you."

He leads me beside still waters;

*Yawns* "Booooooooring."

He restores my soul.

"Who said it was broken?"

He leads me in right paths for his name's sake.

"How about for my sake? I'm the sheep here, remember? You take care of me."

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil;

"What kind of good shepherd takes his baby sheep through a dark valley?"

For you are with me; your rod and your staff— they comfort me.

"Um no. You can keep your rod and your staff. Feed me? Fine. Take care of me? Good. Leave me by boring water? Whatever. But drag me through a dark valley and threaten me, what kind of shepherd are you?"

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;

"Why would I want to eat with my enemies?"

you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

"I don't get the thing with the oil, but a bottomless cup of Mountain Dew sounds alright."

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,

"Now that I can get behind."

and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.

"You're kidding me right? That's the big reward. I go through a dark valley put up with sticks and the big payoff is I get to sit in church, for the rest of my life? Forget this. Where'd I put my ipod?"

It's not easy being a youth minister. You have repackage things in a way kids can hear. Hey kids. Teenagers. Eyes up. Wanna know a secret? I do the exact same thing with the adults. Strip out the sarcasm and the blatant Mt. Dew reference, and these are basically the same objections that your average adult would raise. The difference is, they're more practiced at hiding it, and most of them don't have ipods.

Objection number one. The entire sheep metaphor is degrading. We don't need a shepherd because we're not sheep. We don't need a savior because we don't need to be rescued. We don't need forgiveness because we haven't done anything wrong, well nothing THAT wrong. Not someone-needs-to-die-on-a-cross-for-me wrong. The fancy theological word for this one is humanism, which means human beings ought to be able to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. The early church called it pride.

We're pretty insulated here in Tosa, and that's a good thing. I sure wouldn't want live in a third world village, spend half my day preparing meals, lugging water from a common well. What do you imagine would happen if we turned off the Milwaukee power grid? How many days would it take for things to get scary? Three? Five? How about if we turned off the water? My goal here is not to frighten you, merely to remind you that we are not as powerful or as independent as we'd like to believe.

Now listen to those words again. "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall want for nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside waters of rest; he restores my soul."

Do you hear how different it sounds? If we can tune out that voice inside that wants to be in control, if we can set aside the mask for a second and stop worrying about keeping up appearances, could we maybe admit that we'd like a little help, that sometimes we feel like nobody knows who we really are on the inside and sometimes we're scared to death that someone might find out? Is this a safe enough place that we can admit that? Maybe a good shepherd coming to our rescue isn't such a bad thing.

Objection number two. If God really is a good shepherd, then what's all this about dark valleys and rods and staffs? If I have to be a sheep, I want some security. But Christians suffer just like everyone else. That doesn't seem right. Why do bad things happen to good people? The fancy theological word for this one is theodicy. The early church called it doubt.

In Jesus, we discover a God who is funny, loving, and most of all confusing. His disciples loved him, but they couldn't understand. They weren't stupid; his plan was bigger than their imaginations. His crucifixion broke them. They could not believe God was still with them; there was just too much evidence to the contrary. Then the resurrection opened their minds. Perhaps God was strong enough to pull goodness even from the very heart of evil. God doesn't promise a life free of dark valleys. He promises to be with us, to lead us through and out the other side.

Objection number three. Why be good, when being bad is so much fun? Why work hard to get to heaven just so you can sit on clouds and play harps all day? You only go around once, so why not go for the gusto while you've still got the chance? All the cool people are going to hell anyway. The theological word for this one is hedonism. The early church called it foolishness.

You wouldn't be here if you really believed this; you'd be in bed like normal people. All of us are here today because we choose to be, except of course for the kids who were dragged here by their parents. We have two problems here. The first is we're worried about what happens we die, while God is worried about how we live. This book is not about us reaching God someday; it's about God reaching us today.

The second problem is that we've taken the good news of Jesus Christ and turned it into drudgery. What do we really want in life? To be loved. To be known. To be challenged. We want to have purpose. We want adventure and excitement. So God comes to us and says, "Love everybody."

Imagine what our lives would be like if we actually did that? If we loved everybody, a lot of them would love us back! We'd get to know them and be known by them. But what about the ones who didn't? How would we love them? Wouldn't that be a challenge? Wouldn't that be an amazing purpose in life, to find a way to love people who hate your guts? Do you imagine that quest might lead you into some exciting adventures?

That's what God wants for us! Isn't that great news? That this impossible crazy perfect scheme is actually God's great unstoppable plan for the universe? So God comes to us and says, "Ok team. Here's the plan. Love everybody. Got it? Go!" And what do we say? "Awwww mannnnn! Do I have to? Fine, whatever. I'll love everybody, looooove everybody, whether I like it or not. Where'd I put my ipod?