28.04.2026
Saint Francis
Pr. Christian Jennert, Bridge Pastor
Sermon Easter 4 - April 26, 2026
I grew up in northern Hanover County, in a region sometimes called “gateway to the heathland” – the Lüneburger Heide – a wide, rolling landscape of purple heather, sandy paths, and seeping skins. It’s the kind of place people picture with open fields . . . and flocks of sheep, guided by their shepherds.
I remember the first time I saw a large flock moving together across the heath, led by a shepherd in traditional dress. And I remember wondering? Why does this image feel so deeply comforting?
Why does it stir something peaceful, almost nostalgic, even for those of us who have never lived close to the land in that way?
There is something about the image of a shepherd and sheep that speaks to us on a deep level. But we should be clear: shepherding, in Jesus’ time, was not romantic. Shepherds were not admired figures. They were among the least regarded in society – laborers, often hired hands, sometimes even children. The work was hard, monotonous, and dangerous. They lived out in the fields. They protected the flock from predators and thieves. It was necessary work – but not honored work.
And yet – the shepherd is the image Jesus chooses. Jesus does not reach for the image of a king on a throne, or a priest in the temple, or a scholar with authority. He reaches for the image of a shepherd – one who stays close to the ground, close to the flock, close to the vulnerability of life. And then he goes even further.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus says: “I am the gate.” Not only the shepherd – but the very doorway into life with God. The one through whom we enter into koinonia – into community, into relationship, into belonging. And what does this shepherd promise? Not mere survival. Not barely enough, but abundance.
“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
That word – abundantly – is striking. It is not cautious. It is not measured. It is not anxious. It is generous. And yet . . .if we are honest, abundance is not what many people experience. Not here. Not in this city.
We live in a place where people struggle to stay housed, where families are stretched thin, where seniors worry about stability and care, where many feel the quiet but persistent weight of scarcity – financial, emotional, even spiritual. So what does it mean to hear Jesus speak of abundance here?
It means, first, that Jesus is not describing the world as it is, but the world as God intends it to be – the dawning of God’s reign in our midst. And it also means we are called to be part of that unfolding.
Because Jesus also warns us: there are voices that sound like shepherds but are not. Voices that promise life but lead to diminishment. Voices that stir fear instead of trust. Voices that divide, rather than gather. The question is not only, Do we hear the shepherd’s voice? but also, Which voices are we following, and which voices are we becoming for others?
Some of you may remember the move Babe from the mid-90’s. Have you watched it? It’s the story of a little pig, Babe, who becomes, improbably, a sheepdog. What makes Babe remarkable is not strength of intimidation – but gentleness. While the other dogs rely on fear to control the sheep, Babe learns to guide them with attentiveness, respect – even kindness. And best of all, it works.
The story is a bit of a parable. Because it challenges the assumption that leadership must be forceful to be effective. Instead, it suggests that true leadership – true shepherding – flows from relationship, from trust, from care. And that brings us, very concretely, to where we are as a congregation.
St. Francis is seeking a shepherd, a settled pastor. So, the question before us is simple, but important: What kind of shepherd is St. Francis looking for at this time? Not just in terms of background, skills or experience, but in spirit. One who leads with authority alone? Or one who walks alongside? One who imposes direction? Or one who listens deeply – who knows the flock, who calls people by name? One who manages scarcity? Or one who helps us trust in God’s abundance?
Because the call process is not only about finding the right person. It is also about becoming the kind of community that recognizes the shepherd’s voice. As for me, I think of my role less as the shepherd and more as a kind of sheepdog, pointing beyond myself to the one who is the true shepherd. The one who knows each of us. The one who calls us by name. The one who doesn’t disappoint. The one who leads us into life.
Scripture tells this story again and again: from manna in the wilderness . . .to green pastures and still waters . . .to baskets overflowing. God’s abundance is not a distant idea. It is a promise already at work among us. So perhaps the question is this: What if it is true? What if God’s abundance is real, and already finding its way into the world through communities like St. Francis? Then we are not only those who follow the shepherd. We are also those who reflect the shepherd’s care – in how we live, how we give, and how we walk with one another.
The Good Shepherd is calling.
And by grace we know the voice.
Amen.
