One Flock

John 10:14-18

July 19, 2017 • Mount Pleasant UMC

Shepherds were and are a central part of the life of Israel. It’s said that, at least in ancient times, all day long the herds of various shepherds would mingle and travel together but at night, when it came time to go home or to their sheepfold, all a shepherd had to do was to call out and that shepherd’s sheep would come running. They know and respond to the voice of their shepherd. When we were in Israel a few weeks ago, there were many times we caught a glimpse of flocks of sheep being led; they’re valuable not only for the meat but for their fleece. We also learned, however, that while sheep are not necessarily territorial, shepherds certainly can be! Along one of our long road trips in Jordan, a man who was not originally with our group asked the bus driver to stop so he could take a picture of a shepherd with his sheep. Almost as soon as he got out of the bus to do so, however, the shepherd began yelling at him in Arabic and the guide interpreted in probably much nicer words than what it sounded like the shepherd was actually saying: “He says you can’t take his picture. Get back on the bus.” I think that was the only time on the whole trip I saw that man move so quickly!

While we don’t see shepherds often in our culture, for the people in Jesus’ time, shepherds were a common sight. And, depending on who you talked to, they were either a positive image or a negative one. Their greatest king, David, had been a shepherd, but at the same time, we know that in the first century shepherds were among the lowest of the low. They weren’t allowed to testify in court or come to worship. Their job made them religiously unclean (Hamilton, The Journey, pg. 113; Card, Luke: The Gospel of Amazement, pg. 48). I sometimes wonder, though, if it wasn’t a remembrance of the shepherds who came to his cradle (a story Mary undoubtedly told him many times) that caused Jesus to look so fondly on shepherds, even to call himself “the good shepherd” (10:14). But Jesus wasn’t just the shepherd of the flock he had inherited. He made a point of saying that he had other sheep he needed to add to his flock, sheep that were not of his original sheep pen. That passage, that statement of Jesus, has been taken to mean many different things over the centuries, and so this morning we’re going to try to unravel what he means, especially as it relates to people who don’t follow Jesus, who in fact are devoted to other religions.

We’re continuing our July sermon series this morning, a series that grew out of questions you asked on Facebook. As I said last week, my goal in this series is not just to answer the questions you asked, but because these questions are often thrown at people of faith as objections to following Jesus, I also want to equip you to be able to answer the questions yourselves. So, two weeks ago we began with the question of the authority of the Bible, and we discovered that the Bible more than holds its own still today. Last week, we talked about the nature of salvation and how “good” we have to be to enter the kingdom of God. What we discovered is that we can’t be good enough; we have to accept God’s gift of grace, free grace. This morning, then, we move to a question that comes up more and more in the world we live in today: what about other religions?

When I was growing up in the big town of Sedalia, Indiana, I can honestly say I didn’t know anyone of another religion. Sedalia, and our neighboring town of Rossville, were not havens for Jews, Muslims, Hindus or Buddhists as far as I knew. Sedalia had no churches, but Rossville had exactly three when I was young: Methodist, Presbyterian and Church of the Brethren. We all got along well enough that we hosted Vacation Bible School together—and, as far as I knew, pretty much everyone in my small town was connected somehow to one of those three churches or a church in a neighboring community. That was my world, but the world my kids have grown up in is very different. My kids have grown up in towns and cities where there were people who were actively practicing religions other than Christianity. So have most of America’s young people, including many of you, and in the midst of that new cultural reality, Christians have been given a reputation of being “intolerant” of other religions. Certainly some are that way, but it’s an interesting observation that in a world where tolerance is the most important virtue, the only sin that still remains is to be labeled “intolerant.” Not only do many consider Christians intolerant, those same folks say we’re “judgmental.” In a poll done not too long ago and published in the book unChristian, the Barna Group found that 87% of young people (ages 16 to 29) outside the church believed that Christians are generally judgmental, and 70% of them believe Christians are “insensitive” when it comes to other belief systems (Lyons & Kinnamon, Kindle edition, loc. 248). As Gabe Lyons and David Kinnaman, the authors of unChristian, put it, Christians ‘have become famous for what we oppose, rather than who we are for” (loc. 230).

One of the accusations often tossed our way these days is that as Christians we claim to have the truth. When we say Jesus is the way to God the Father, we’re accused of making exclusive truth claims. When we stand up for what we believe, we get accused of being intolerant of other viewpoints. But here’s the thing: every faith system, every religion makes truth claims. Every single religion on the earth makes truth claims, Christianity included. If there’s no truth to believe, there’s no point in following that faith. And yet, they can’t all be right and true! So, in light of the truth we believe, how do we respond to an interact with people who follow other religions? To answer that question, I want to start with Jesus’ comments about his “one flock.”

This is the verse we often hear quoted: “I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd” (18:16). Some people want that verse to mean that Jesus will include everyone from every religion, as if the conflicts between the various “truth claims” of each religion don’t matter. This is a tradition we call “universalism” meaning that in the end, all will be saved, that every religion is basically the same. But taken in context, Jesus can’t have been talking about that. This whole chapter begins with Jesus talking about being “the good shepherd,” which is sort of surprising considering his rejection of the title “good teacher” that we read about in last week’s message. Again, context is everything. Jesus is contrasting two kinds of shepherds. One kind is only hired and they don’t care about the sheep. When the threat comes, this “hired hand” will run away and preserve his own life. This is a “bad shepherd.” But the “good shepherd,” still today, is one who probably begins early in the shepherding lifestyle. He or she knows the sheep, knows each of them by name. It has become second nature to think of the sheep before he or she thinks of themselves. The good shepherd will lay down his life to protect the sheep from danger, if need be, and that’s the comparison Jesus is making here. He is the shepherd who will do whatever it takes to protect the sheep, to bring them safely home (cf. Barclay, The Gospel of John, Volume 2, pg. 61). He is the shepherd who will, in fact, lay down his life for the sake of those who are his sheep.

Jesus has said elsewhere that he was sent for the “lost sheep of the house of Israel” (cf. Matthew 15:24). He says that when a person from outside Israel is asking him to heal her daughter, and to what seems like Jesus putting her off, the desperate mother says, “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table” (Matthew 15:27). Her point? Jesus’ ministry was expansive enough that, even though his first mission was to God’s people, the Jewish nation, there should be enough leftover for the sake of those who weren’t ethnically or culturally Jews. Jesus says to the woman, “You have great faith” (Matthew 15:28) and he heals the daughter. It seems to be the case that the first half of Jesus’ ministry was to awaken God’s people, those who were, as far back as Abraham’s time, given a mission to be a blessing to the world (cf. Genesis 12:2-3). When that awakening did not happen as it should have, Jesus began to include others in the mission—Gentiles, non-Jews. To think that they would have been included in the mission of Jesus would have been scandalous to many first-century ears. The Messiah was supposed to be for the Jews, but in fact, “the Jewish Messiah is to become the Lord, the shepherd of the whole world” (Wright, John for Everyone, Part One, pg. 152). The “other sheep” are the great company of all who come to Jesus, who trust in him, Jew and Gentile alike. We—you and I—are part of that group of “other sheep,” part of that “great multitude” mentioned in the last book of the Bible: “There…was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb…And they cried out in a loud voice: ‘Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb’” (Revelation 7:9-10). When Jesus says he has other sheep, that’s the day he’s envisioning; not a day when all religions are declared equal and our differences irrelevant, but a day when all who trust him come together to worship. As the old Gospel song says, “What a glorious day that will be!”

But our world does not look like that yet. That’s why we find ourselves asking: how do we respond to and interact with people of other religions? Well, first, let me clarify what I mean by “other religions.” I’m not talking about Presbyterian, Baptist, Nazarene, Pentecostal or even Catholic or Eastern Orthodox. Though there are differences between each of those traditions, some of them being significant differences, those are not different religions. Sometimes we mistakenly use that word to describe each of those (and other) traditions, but in fact all of those are part of the larger Christian faith. They may express their devotion to Jesus differently, and we do in fact have significant differences in theology, but all those who claim to worship Jesus are part of our faith and therefore brothers and sisters. In the spirit of John Wesley, Methodism’s founder, we reach out our hand to those who claim the name of Jesus. We may not agree on everything, but if we can agree that Jesus is Lord and he is the one who saves us, that is enough. God will work out the differences in eternity; sometimes I say that’s why eternity will be so long, because God has to correct all of us in some way.

When we talk about “other religions” we’re talking about faith systems that are not centered around Jesus, belief systems that may in fact be antagonistic to Jesus. In today’s world, that would most prominently include Judaism, Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism. There are, of course, lots of other religions, but none with the worldwide recognition and reach as these. We could spend a lot of time talking about each of these, but for the sake our time this morning, I was to consider really just two questions. Is there anything can we learn from those of other faiths? And how can we respond to them?

There is one image that sticks out in my mind when I think about what I might be able to learn from people of other faiths. It happened several years ago in an airport in Cairo, Egypt, where a group of us sat wearily waiting for our plane to begin loading. We had left our hotel about 1:00 in the morning, and obviously hadn’t gotten much sleep, so we were kind of in a daze when 3:00 a.m. rolled around. But promptly at 3 a.m., a group of Muslims got up, went to a section of the terminal that faced Mecca, and began their prayers. We’ve experienced the same thing every time we go to the Holy Land; we hear regular calls to prayer echoing through the cities and the countryside. In Petra this year, we even stood in an area where we could hear two different calls to prayer at the same time—sort of like dueling prayers! Five times a day, Muslims stop everything they are doing and spend time in prayer. Their prayers are spread throughout the day, they say, so that it reminds them to stay on the path (cf. Hamilton, Christianity and World Religions, pg. 76). That practice makes me reflect on how sometimes as Christians we are even too uncomfortable to pray over our meals at a restaurant for fear someone might see us. I wonder if Islam has something to teach us about prayer and devotion to God? I’m not affirming everything Islam teaches at all, and I recognize there are those who are extremists who twist their religion to violent and destructive ends. What I want us to see is their practice, and ask if maybe we could grow in our devotion and in being unashamed and faithful in our prayer life. It’s also worth asking if they have something to teach us about giving. Muslims are expected to give 2.5% of their income to the poor; the average Christian today gives somewhere around 1.8% of their income to any sort of charity (even though we know the Biblical witness starts at a tithe, or 10%). In fact, over the last few years, analysts say that those who consider themselves “non-religious” are better givers than any people of faith, causing Christianity Today to ask the question: are Christians stingy? Can the followers of Islam teach us anything about giving?

Our closest faith relatives, the Jews, have things to teach us as well. There is much we share in common with the Jewish people: a belief in the authority of the first 39 books of the Bible, a conviction that God is the creator of the universe, that all humans are made in God’s image and struggle with sin. What we disagree on is the identity of Jesus, a reality that was discussed several years ago in a surprising place: prime time television. On the show 7th Heaven, the pastor’s oldest son announces his plan to marry the daughter of a Jewish rabbi. Take a listen to the reaction of the family.

VIDEO: 7th Heaven, “Conversion”

The pastor asks: how do you go from Jesus to No Jesus? As Christians, we know Jesus to be the fulfillment of God’s promises, the Savior who had been promised from the beginning. Yet the Jews have much to teach us about perseverance, about standing firm in what we believe despite persecution and oppression—some of which has come, sadly, from Christians throughout history. They are, as one author has put it, our “older brothers and sisters in faith,” from whom we can learn (cf. Hamilton 100, 110).

The other two major religions, Hinduism and Buddhism, we Americans often know very little about and I don’t have time to go into much detail this morning. Hindus understand there to be one true God, though some accounts say there are as many as 330 million gods and goddesses that fill their religion. They believe that the human soul longs to be reunited wth that God, and that salvation is found in divine knowledge that sets us free. They then are led to do good works that will build up good “karma,” leading to a positive reincarnation and eventually, when enough good is done, to rest in Nirvana. That’s a vast oversimplification of the Hindu path, but it’s enough to realize our paths of salvation are very different. We don’t believe you earn your way to salvation; we believe, as Hebrews 9 says, “People are destined to die once, and after that to face judgment” (9:27), but that the outcome of that judgment doesn’t rest in what we do but in what Jesus has done. We can learn from their example of quiet prayer and meditation, but I personally give thanks I don’t have to depend on karma for salvation (cf. Hamilton 38-42, 46-47). Buddhism, by contrast, focuses greatly on suffering. They hold onto four noble truths: life is characterized by suffering, suffering is caused by attachments, we can overcome our attachments, and the Holy Eightfold Path is the way to overcome suffering. They believe God is inaccessible and cannot be known personally, and so the idea of God is basically irrelevant to Buddhism. Christians and Buddhists have a fundamentally different idea of life after death, and even what life here should be like, but one thing I take away from their faith is to hold things lightly. While it is not Christian doctrine to say that the things we are attached to are the reason for our suffering, we can learn that the things we hold onto so tightly ultimately are not what save us (Hamilton 55-56).

All these things we can learn and appreciate without compromising our faith. But, of course, the missionary instinct that lies at the heart of our faith calls us to share our faith with these others as well. We want more than anything for them to know the peace, love and mercy that comes from a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, as we want that for everyone. So how do we do that? How do we interact with people who follow other religions? First of all, we do what I just did, and look for something with which we can connect with, which we can appreciate in the other’s faith. Bill Hybels, in his book written a number of years ago called Just Walk Across the Room, says that often what we need to do most is simply listen to those who have other viewpoints, other faiths. Hybels suggests before we start preaching to the other, we need to listen to their story. As we listen attentively, as we’re interested in their faith and their story, that will open up opportunities for us to share our own story and our faith. If we rush in without establishing a relationship, any attempt to share what Jesus means to us will fall on deaf ears and this sheep from another fold will not be interested in hearing about our sheepfold or our shepherd Jesus. Hybels also points out that we don’t just get to know people of other faiths for the sake of converting them. The friendship must be genuine or they will not be interested.

But when the chance does come to tell your story, what you don’t want to do is stumble. We need to be ready. It’s not enough, when someone asks you about your faith, for you to say, “Let me take you to our pastors. They can explain what I believe.” Sorry, we can’t do that. Your friend is interested in what you believe, not what Pastor Rick or I believe. It’s your relationship, your friendship and so it’s your faith—what Jesus means to you and why you believe—that they are really interested in. Peter calls us all to be ready when those moments come. Peter gives this advice to the early church (and to us as well): “But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander” (1 Peter 3:15-16). First, be sure that Christ is Lord of your heart, your life. That’s the first priority. Do you believe and have you turned your life over to him? When that is settled, then we should always be prepared to share why we have hope. That word, “always,” means “continued duration”—in other words, always. We don’t get days off from being ready to share our faith and what Jesus means to us. I remember when this verse became especially real for me. I was in the dining hall at Ball State, and a friend of mine came and sat down. It was finals week, and we were talking about all the tests and projects that had to be done. Suddenly, she looked at me and said, “You always seem so calm, even during finals week. How do you do that?” And I wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t ready for a question like that. What I should have said to this friend who wasn’t a follower of Jesus was that my faith gives me strength to face whatever would come and that Jesus gives me hope. What I said instead was something more like, “I—I—I don’t know. Just the way I am, I guess.” I wasn’t ready then, but ever since Peter’s words have compelled me to always be prepared to give a reason for my hope. After all, it’s my story. No one can argue with your story. It’s not a matter of having Bible verses memorized; it’s a matter of sharing what Jesus means to you. Your story is the one thing no one can argue with. Always be prepared.

But Peter also adds two words after that, which I think especially apply in relation to other religions and in this cultural moment. He says, “Do this with gentleness and respect.” The word for “gentleness” means “meekness” or “forbearance” and the word for “respect” is actually the word phobos—from which we get “phobia.” It has a root meaning of “fear” but not in the sense of “horror;” rather, it means respect, deference. Peter says we approach others, those who do not share our faith, with a firm sense of who we are but with a desire to understand, to listen, to care. Peter knew what we’re still learning—that to rush in and tell someone how they are wrong doesn’t get us anywhere. To tear down another person and especially their deeply-held faith only puts the other person on the defensive, just like it does to us when others approach us that way. Rather, we are ready to share what Jesus means to us in gentle and respectful ways. It’s not our job to bring anyone to Jesus anyway; that’s the Holy Spirit’s job. It’s our job to plant seeds, to be ready to share our faith and to stand firm on the rock that is Jesus Christ.

And it’s our job to pray. Pray for those we know who are not yet following Jesus. Whether they are following another faith system or claim to not believe in anything or anyone, our calling is the same: pray. In a few weeks, we’re going to be talking about some other, practical ways to reach those around us, but it’s the same starting point no matter who we are talking about. Pray. Pray that God would open doors. Pray for friendships that have yet to blossom. Have patience that the Spirit will guide you and pray that you will be ready when the opportunity to share your faith comes along. Pray—in all things, pray without ceasing (cf. 1 Thessalonians 5:17).

What sets us apart from all other faiths is Jesus, the one who came to save the world, the one who is the Son of God, the one who claims to be the way, the truth and the life (cf. John 14:6). Tony Campolo tells of flying from California to Philadelphia on a red-eye flight one night. It was late, and his seat companion wanted to talk, so he asked Campolo what he did. When he learned Campolo was a Christian preacher, the man said he, too, was a Christian. “I believe,” he said, “that going to heaven is like going to Philadelphia. You can get there by airplane, by train, by bus, by automobile. There are many ways to get to Philadelphia.” “Fascinating,” Campolo said before he turned over and tried to go to sleep.

A few hours later, as they were descending into Philadelphia, the flight became very uncomfortable. The airport was fogged in. The wind was blowing, the rain was beating on the plane, and everyone looked nervous and tight. As the pilot circled in the fog, Campolo turned to his new friend and said, “I’m certainly glad the pilot doesn’t agree with your theology,” he said. “What do you mean?” the man asked. Campolo said, “The people in the control booth are giving instructions to the pilot: ‘Coming north by northwest, three degrees, you’re on beam, you’re on beam, don’t deviate from beam.’ I’m glad the pilot’s not saying, ‘There are many ways into the airport. There are many approaches we can take.’ I’m glad he is saying, ‘There’s only one way we can land this plane, and I’m going to stay with it.’” And if we believe that about our faith, that it’s the most important thing in our lives and that eternity depends on it, then our heart should be like Jesus’ heart, desiring for all to be part of his one flock. How do we respond to people of other religions? “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect…” Let’s pray.