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Kitchen Table Liturgy

The Nature of Sheep

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Hannah Hagarty
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Considering John 10

When is the last time you had an "aha!" moment with Scripture? I had one last week. Deep into studying the Gospel of John for an inductive study I teach at our church, I settled into John 10 to more "I Am" statements that I know, that I love. I was raised in the church; I know all the stories. So what was different this time?

We know that it is the Spirit that opens our eyes of understanding. I absolutely must first lay credit there. My husband and I also had the unique experience of farming for a few years and among our animals, we kept a flock of sheep.

I love sheep. They are soft and silly. The lambs nap in your arms while their mothers stamp the ground and bleat as if you're killing their offspring. They are incredibly valuable to their owner. Historically, every part of a sheep was useful, not just the meat and wool. Even sheep urine was useful as a disinfectant. But they are also the most ridiculous and pain-in-the-patootie animals I have ever worked with. This is why sheep must have a shepherd and a shepherd usually employs the help of dogs. Provided with a safe pen for lambing in, ewes will jump and escape to go lamb somewhere completely not safe. We had one ewe decide to lamb where the coyotes hung out on an empty neighboring farm. If it had been a den of wolves, she probably would have still chosen the place. If one sheep has a wild and diabolical idea pop into its head, every single sheep will follow that one sheep's stupidity. They are reactionary. They scatter when you want them together and should you, their shepherd, call them, they may consider and decide they do not know your voice on this particular day. Along comes a stranger to them who shakes a bucket of feed and they flock to that stranger as a new best friend. I never understood the novel behavior of Jesus's sheep until I kept actual sheep. When inductive Bible teachers like myself urge students to do their best to understand Scripture the way the first hearers and readers would have understood it—this is why.

By comparison, Jesus's sheep hear his voice. They know his voice. They listen. They follow him. They are not ultimately lost to the thief or the stranger.

Those docile renderings of the Good Shepherd surrounded by his compliant, resting sheep? Those are Jesus's sheep. My sheep took two hours to round up the day that we sold the farm. Why do Jesus's sheep appear so unflappably good? Because their Shepherd is the One to lay down his life for them, they have been justified. They are being sanctified. Their ability to listen and obey is not performative—it is entirely a work of grace. Jesus's statement of: "I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand" is a comfort, not that His sheep are smart enough by nature to stay, but He is sovereign and strong enough to hold.

There is a portion of John 10 that says Jesus calls his sheep by name. It is a striking counterpoint to Genesis 11:4-6's "come, let us go and make a name for ourselves". In a society striving for identity and fame, this story reminds us that Jesus gives us our covenant identity. He changes our very nature. Just as my flock of ridiculously silly Katahdin sheep in their natural nature behaved vastly different than Jesus' sheep, so should we justified, sanctified, and under the influence of the Holy Spirit. Maybe that is why Jesus also uses the sheep and wolf analogy in Matthew, "Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves. You will know them by their fruits."

Originally published on Kitchen Table Liturgy, Hannah's Substack.

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Hannah Hagarty

Hannah is the founder of Wonder Letters and a mother of ten. She writes Kitchen Table Liturgy on Substack, exploring faith, family, and ordinary faithfulness.