183. The Good Shepherd

The Good Shepherd

Psa_23:1 : ’93The Lord is my shepherd.’94

What with post and rail fences, and our pride in Southdown, Astrakhan, and Flemish varieties of sheep, there is no use now of the old-time shepherd. Such a one had abundance of opportunity of becoming a poet, being out-of-doors twelve hours the day, and oft-times waking up in the night on the hills. If the stars or the torrents or the sun or the flowers had anything to say, he was very apt to hear it. The Ettrick Shepherd of Scotland, who afterwards took his seat in the brilliant circle of Wilson and Lockhart, got his wonderful poetic inspiration in the ten years in which he was watching the flocks of Mr. Laidlaw. There is often a sweet poetry in the rugged prose of the Scotch shepherd. One of these Scotch shepherds lost his only son, and he knelt down in prayer, and was overheard to say: ’93O Lord, it has seemed good in thy providence to take from me the staff of my right hand at the time when to us sand-blind mortals I seemed to be most in need of it; and how I shall climb up the hill of sorrow and auld age without it, thou mayst ken, but I dinna.’94

David, the shepherd-boy, is watching his father’92s sheep. They are pasturing on the very hills where afterward a Lamb was born of which you have heard much, ’93the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.’94 David, the shepherd-boy, was beautiful, brave, musical, and poetic. I think he often forgot the sheep in his reveries. There in the solitude he struck the harp-string that is thrilling through all ages. David the boy was gathering the material for David the poet and David the man. Like other boys, David was fond of using his knife among the saplings, and he had noticed the exuding of the juice of the tree; and when he became a man, he said: ’93The trees of the Lord are full of sap.’94 David the boy, like other boys, had been fond of hunting the birds’92-nests, and he had driven the old stork off the nest to find how many eggs were under her; and when he became a man, he said: ’93As for the stork, the fir-trees are her house.’94 In boyhood he had heard the terrific thunderstorm that frightened the red deer into premature sickness; and when he became a man, he said: ’93The voice of the Lord maketh the hinds to calve.’94 David the boy had lain upon his back looking up at the stars and examining the sky, and to his boyish imagination the sky seemed like a piece of divine embroidery, the divine fingers working in the threads of light and the beads of stars; and he became a man and wrote: ’93When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers.’94 When he became an old man, thinking of the goodness of God, he seemed to hear the bleating of his father’92s sheep across many years, and to think of the time when he tended them on the Bethlehem hills, and he cries out in the text: ’93The Lord is my shepherd!’94

If God will help me, I will talk to you of the shepherd’92s plaid, the shepherd’92s crook, the shepherd’92s dogs, the shepherd’92s pasture-grounds, and the shepherd’92s flocks.

And first, the shepherd’92s plaid. It would be preposterous for a man going out to rough and besoiling work to put on splendid apparel. The potter does not work in velvet; the serving maid does not put on satin while toiling at her duties; the shepherd does not wear a splendid robe in which to go out amid the storms and the rocks and the nettles; he puts on the rough apparel appropriate to his exposed work. The Lord our Shepherd, coming out to hunt the lost sheep, puts on no regal apparel, but the plain garment of our humanity. There was nothing pretentious about it. I know the old painters represent a halo around the babe Jesus, but I do not suppose that there was any more halo about that child than about the head of any other babe that was born that Christmas eve in Judea. Becoming a man, he wore a seamless garment. The scissors and needle had done nothing to make it graceful. I take it to have been a sack with three holes in it, one for the neck and two for the arms. Although the gamblers quarreled over it, that is no evidence of its value. I have seen two ragpickers quarrel over the refuse of an ash-barrel. No; in the wardrobe of heaven he left the sandals of light, the girdles of beauty, the robes of power, and put on the besoiled and tattered raiment of our humanity. Sometimes he did not even wear the seamless robe. What is that hanging about the waist of Christ? Is it a badge of authority? Is it a royal coat of arms? No; it is a towel. The disciples’92 feet are filthy from the walk on the long way, and are not fit to be put upon the sofas on which they are to recline at the meal, and so Jesus washes their feet, and gathers them up in the towel to dry them. The work of saving this world was rough work, rugged work, hard work; and Jesus put on the raiment, the plain raiment of our flesh. The storms were to beat him, the crowds were to jostle him, the dust was to sprinkle him, the mobs were to pursue him. O Shepherd of Israel! leave at home thy bright array. For thee, what streams to ford, what nights all unsheltered! He puts upon him the plain raiment of our humanity; wears our woes; and while earth and heaven and hell stand amazed at the abnegation, wraps around him the shepherd’92s plaid:

Cold mountains and the midnight air

Witnessed the fervor of his prayer.

Next, I mention the shepherd’92s crook. This was a rod with a curve at the end, which, when a sheep was going astray, was thrown over its neck, or as a hook around its leg; and in that way it was pulled back. When the sheep were not going astray, the shepherd would often use it as a sort of crutch, leaning on it; but when the sheep were out of the way, the crook was always busy pulling them back. All we, like sheep, have gone astray, and had it not been for the shepherd’92s crook we would have fallen long ago over the precipices. Here is a man who is making too much money. He is getting very vain. He says: ’93After a while I shall be independent of all the world. O my soul, eat, drink, and be merry!’94 Business disaster comes to him. What is God going to do with him? Has God any grudge against him? Oh, no. God is throwing over him the shepherd’92s crook and pulling him back into better pastures. Here is a man who has always been well. He has never had any sympathy for invalids; he calls them coughing, wheezing nuisances. After a while sickness comes to him. He does not understand what God is going to do with him. He says: ’93Is the Lord angry with me?’94 Oh, no. With the shepherd’92s crook he has been pulled back into better pastures. Here is a happy household circle. The parent does not realize the truth that these children are only loaned to him, and he forgets from what source came his domestic blessings. Sickness drops upon those children and death swoops upon a little one. He says: ’93Is God angry with me?’94 No. His shepherd’92s crook pulls him back into better pastures. I do not know what would have become of us if it had not been for the shepherd’92s crook. Oh, the mercies of our troubles! You take up apples and plums from under the shade of the trees, and the very best fruits of Christian character we find in the deep shade of trouble.

When I was on the steamer, coming across the ocean, I got a cinder in my eye, and several persons tried to get it out very gently, but it could not be taken out in that way. I was told that the engineer had a facility in such cases. I went to him. He put his large, sooty hand on me, took a knife, and wrapped the lid of the eye around the knife. I expected to be hurt very much, but without any pain, and instantly, he removed the cinder. Oh, there come times in our Christian life, when our spiritual vision is being spoiled, and all gentle appliances fail. Then there comes some giant trouble, and black-handed, lays hold of us and removes that which would have ruined our vision forever. I will gather all your joys together in one regiment of ten companies, and I will put them under Col. Joy. Then I will gather all your sorrows together in one regiment of ten companies, and put them under Col. Breakheart. Then I will ask: Which of these regiments has gained for you the greater spiritual victories? Certainly that under Col. Breakheart. In the time of war, you may remember, at the South and North, the question was whether the black troops would fight; but when they were put into the struggle on both sides, they did heroically. In the great day of eternity it will be found that it was not the white regiment of joys that gained your greatest successes, but the black troops of trouble, misfortune, and disaster. Where you have gained one spiritual success from your prosperity, you have gained ten spiritual successes from your adversity.

There is no animal that struggles more violently than a sheep when you corner it and catch hold of it. Down in the glen I see a group of men around a lost sheep. A plowman comes along and seizes the sheep, and tries to pacify it; but it is more frightened than ever. A miller comes along, puts down his grist, and caresses the sheep, and it seems as if it would die of fright. After a while some one breaks through the thicket. He says: ’93Let me have the poor thing.’94 He comes up and lays his arms around the sheep, and it is immediately quiet. Who is the last man that comes? It is the shepherd. Ah, my friends, be not afraid of the shepherd’92s crook. It is never used on you, save in mercy, to pull you back. The hard, cold iceberg of trouble will melt in the warm gulf stream of divine sympathy.

There is one passage I think you misinterpret: ’93The bruised reed he will not break.’94 Do you know that the shepherd in olden times played upon these reeds? They were very easily bruised; but when they were bruised they were never mended. The shepherd could so easily make another one, he would snap the old one and throw it away, and get another. The Bible says it is not so with our Shepherd. When the music is gone out of a man’92s soul, God does not snap him in twain and throw him away. He mends and restores. ’93The bruised reed he will not break.’94

When, in the o’92erhanging heavens of fate,

The threatening clouds of darkness dwell,

Then let us humbly watch and wait;

It shall be well, it shall be well.

And when the storm has passed away,

And sunshine smiles on flood and fell’97

How sweet to think, how sweet to say,

It has been well, it has been well.

Next, I speak of the shepherd’92s dogs. They watch the straying sheep, and drive them back again. Every shepherd has his dog’97from the nomads of the Bible times down to the Scotch herdsman watching his flocks on the Grampian Hills. Our shepherd employs the criticisms and persecutions of the world as his dogs. There are those, you know, whose whole work it is to watch the inconsistencies of Christians, and bark at them. If one of God’92s sheep gets astray, the world howls. With more avidity than a shepherd’92s dog ever caught a stray sheep by the flanks or lugged it by the ears, worldlings seize the Christian astray. It ought to do us good to know that we are thus watched. It ought to put us on our guard. They cannot bite us if we stay near the Shepherd. The sharp knife of worldly assault will only trim the vines until they produce better grapes. The more you pound marjoram and rosemary, the sweeter they smell. The more dogs take after you, the quicker you will get to the gate.

You have noticed that different flocks of sheep have different marks upon them; sometimes a red mark, sometimes a blue mark, sometimes a straight mark, and sometimes a crooked mark. The Lord our Shepherd has a mark for his sheep. It is a red mark’97the mark of the cross. ’93Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteousness’92 sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.’94

Furthermore, consider the shepherd’92s pasture-grounds. The old shepherds used to take the sheep upon the mountains in the summer, and dwell in the valleys in the winter. The sheep being out of doors perpetually, their wool was better than if they had been kept in the hot atmosphere of the sheepcote. Wells were dug for the sheep and covered with large stones in order that the hot weather might not spoil the water. And then the shepherd led his flock wherever he would; nobody disputed his right. So the Lord our Shepherd has a large pasture-ground. He takes us in the summer to the mountains, and in the winter to the valleys. Warm days of prosperity come, and we stand on sun-gilt Sabbaths, and on hills of transfiguration; and we are so high up we can catch a glimpse of the pinnacles of the heavenly city. Then cold wintry days of trouble come, and we go down into the valley of sickness, want, and bereavement, and we say: ’93Is there any sorrow like unto my sorrow?’94 But, blessed be God, the Lord’92s sheep can find pasture anywhere. Between two rocks of trouble a tuft of succulent promises; green pastures beside still waters; long, sweet grass between bitter graves. You have noticed the structure of the sheep’92s mouth? It is so sharp that it can take up a blade of grass or clover-top from the very narrowest spot. And so God’92s sheep can pick up comfort where others can gather none. ’93The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him.’94 Rich pasture, fountain-fed pasture, for all the flock of the Good Shepherd.

The hill of Zion yields

A thousand sacred sweets

Before we reach the heavenly fields,

Or walk the golden streets.

Lastly, consider the shepherd’92s fold. The time of sheep-shearing was a very glad time. The neighbors gathered together, and they poured wine and danced for joy. The sheep were put in a place enclosed by a wall, where it was very easy to count them and know whether any of them had been taken by the jackals or dogs. The enclosure was called the sheepfold. Good news I have to tell you, in that our Lord the Shepherd has a sheepfold, and those who are gathered in it shall never be struck by the storm, shall never be touched by the jackals of temptation and trouble. It has a high wall’97so high that no troubles can get in’97so high that the joys cannot get out. How glad the old sheep will be to find the lambs that left them a good many years ago! Millions of children in heaven! What a merry heaven it will make! Not many long-metre psalms there. They will be in the majority, and will run away with our song, carrying it up to a still higher point of ecstasy. Oh, there will be shouting! If children on earth clapped their hands and danced for joy, what will they do when, to the gladness of childhood on earth, is added the gladness of childhood in heaven?

It is time we got over these morbid ideas of how we shall get out of this world. You make your religion an undertaker planing coffins and driving hearses. Your religion smells of the varnish of a funeral casket. Rather let your religion today come out and show you the sheepfold that God has provided for you. Ah, you say, there is a river between this and that. I know it; but that Jordan is only for. the sheep-washing, and they shall go up on the other banks snow-white. They follow the great Shepherd. They heard his voice long ago. They are safe now’97one fold and one Shepherd! Alas! for those who are finally found outside the enclosure. The night of their sin howls with jackals; they are thirsting for their blood. The very moment that a lamb may be frisking upon the hills, a bear may be looking at it from the thicket.

In June, 1815, there was a very noble party gathered in a house in St. James’92s Square, London. The Prince Regent was present, and the occasion was made fascinating by music and banqueting and by jewels. While a quadrille was being formed, suddenly all the people rushed to the windows. What is the matter? Henry Percy had arrived with the news that Waterloo had been fought, and that England had won the day. The dance was abandoned; the party dispersed; lords, ladies, and musicians rushed into the street, and in fifteen minutes from the first announcement of the good news the house was emptied of all its guests. O ye who are seated at the banquet of this world, or whirling in its gayeties and frivolities, if you could hear the sweet strains of the Gospel trumpet announcing Christ’92s victory over sin and death and hell, you would rush forth, glad in the eternal deliverance! The Waterloo against sin has been fought, and our Commander-in-chief hath won the day. Oh, the joys of this salvation! I do not care what metaphor, what comparison you have; bring it to me, that I may use it. Amos shall bring one simile, Isaiah another, John another. Beautiful with pardon. Beautiful with peace. Beautiful with anticipations. Or to return to the pastoral figure of my text, come out of the poor pasturage of this world into the rich fortunes of the Good Shepherd.

The shepherd of old used to play beautiful music, and sometimes the sheep would gather around him and listen. To-day my heavenly Shepherd calls to you with the very music of heaven, bidding you to leave your sin and accept his pardon. Oh, that all would hear the piping of the Good Shepherd!

Autor: T. De Witt Talmage