a sermon on John 10:11-18
“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes[a] it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.”
Down to the River to pray…
That’s the common title and the first line of the tune/song we just heard.
It’s a gospel song, written in 1867 or perhaps even earlier, but made especially popular in the last 15 years after singer/songwriter Alison Krauss recorded a version of it for the movie O Brother Where Art Thou? in 2000[1].
In the film the song is heard during a scene in which a baptism occurs. And as I have been thinking about this Sunday, when we celebrate the baptism of William Reid Brown, son of Matt and Lauren Brown, that image has just stuck with me.
In a very real way, as they come to the font, Reid and his family are coming come down to the river, the river of living water to be exact, down to the font of blessing, where we see clearly God’s love and grace for us all.
The truth of this amazing grace is rooted in the promises we hear throughout God’s Word, but which are especially evident in our readings this morning from Psalm 23 and John’s Gospel.
The image of God as shepherd, of God leading us to green pastures and beside still waters, of God through Jesus—calling each of us God’s own—ties deeply into what we believe about baptism:
That we belong to God always.
That God–through Jesus–loves us so deeply that the valley of the shadow of death cannot overtake us, and the wolf cannot scatter us,
That God invites us to follow in the paths of righteousness and grace the shepherd treads.
That’s the God who calls Reid down to the river today. That’s the God we promise to teach him—and all other children of God—about in the days to come. A God that loves us from the beginning and will love us to the end, a Good shepherd who is willing to lays down his life and takes it up again for our sake.
And so, today is a celebration—and a grand one at that! God’s love made visible is always worth a shout of joy and a song or two.
In fact it’s such a celebration, that we might be tempted to linger at the party a little too long.
It’s easy to see why we might overstay our welcome. Given the heartache, uncertainty and conflict that can so easily be seen in our world and lives, going down to the river, resting in green pastures and beside still waters can be a balm to the soul, a safeguard for all the things that threaten to undo us.
But it can be so tempting to turn that balm into a suit of armor; to use our experience of God’s presence as a way to insulate ourselves from the pains of the world; to turn a blind eye to others in the flock who may still be wandering; to think that being called God’s own is for us inside these walls alone.
Such is not the way of the Good Shepherd.
The way of the Good shepherd as the Psalm explains it, as Jesus proclaims it, does take us down to the river of grace and belonging and peace, does lead us to green pastures and still waters, but those places are not the final destination. Rather they are the places where we gather our strength before getting to work in the dark valleys, where pain is real, and choices are difficult, and loving enemies is essential.
That’s the way of baptism, too. Baptism is a celebration, but it is also calling. It is the beginning point of our ministry as disciples of Jesus.
In baptism, we come down to the river to splash in the living waters of grace, and then we go from the river to share that water with those who are thirsty and wandering and who do not yet feel they belong; those who may even perplex, frustrate, or scare us.
It’s not always easy; to be kind to those we might think are as dedicated as a hired hand who runs at the first sight of trouble; to be humble even in the presence of our enemies; to be hopeful even when the dark valley feels so close.
But those are the lessons we pledge to teach Reid today, the lessons we have promised to teach others in the past, the lessons we cling to as we remember our own baptisms. And the best way I know to teach those lessons is to live them.
And it just so happens, that today God has given us a time and place to do just that. For today, we join with countless others in our Presbytery in going down to the river, Living River, a Retreat on the Cahaba, to be exact.
We go–some of us physically and all of us in spirit– praying that God will make that ground holy, that God’s love will be visible to all who go to Living River today and in the years to follow.
We go to dedicate the grounds, facilities, and memories of the saints who gave their gifts so that through camps and conferences and all other sorts of encounters, valleys might be made less dark, enemies might become friends, and all may dwell in God’s house as God’s children forever.
We go, with Reid, with all children of God down to the river, down to the waters of baptism, heeding the call of the our Good Shepherd, trusting that we are God’s own, so that we may rise from those waters to share them with the world.
May our Good shepherd show us the way.
Amen.
[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Down_in_the_River_to_Pray