In Touch with the Sheep

While going through some old files recently, I came across a letter that made me chuckle. It was from the president of an oil company who was trying to recruit potential salespeople. "I have reason to believe that you are interested in a sales position," he claimed. He was "looking for a person who appreciates prosperity"—someone willing to call on "a stable, dignified, high-class type of trade." Funny, though: the letter was addressed to my son Matt, who was four years old at the time.

With a little help from his daddy, Matt wrote back:

Dear Mr. ___:

Thank you for your letter. It was nice of you to write to me. Since I am only four years old, I do not receive many letters offering career opportunities. A company like yours, however, with "an international reputation for integrity," must mean what you say when you suggest you have reason to believe I am interested in a sales position. As a matter of fact, I have been hoping to make bigger deposits in my piggy bank each week.

If you really want me to work as a salesperson for your company, please let me hear from you again. But hurry—I'm not getting any younger, you know.

P.S. If this job involves any meetings after 8:00 P.M., count me out. That's my bed-time!

Matt's potential employer never wrote back. Hopefully he realized he needed to get better acquainted with the people he was trying to recruit.

Unfortunately, sometimes we make the same mistake in church. Leaders hand down policies and try to recruit volunteers without really knowing the people. We're quick to lump folks into categories—"new member," "seeker," "legalist," "liberal," "Gen Xer," "old fogey," "troublemaker," "rich snob"—but do we know them as individuals? When we try to help them, do we listen well enough to know we're applying the right remedy to the right hurt? As church members, do we complain about our leaders' decisions without taking the time to know their hearts?

The Good Shepherd said, "I know my sheep and my sheep know me" (John 10:14). The apostle Paul urged the church to "respect literally, know those who . . . are over you in the Lord and who admonish you" (1 Thessalonians 5:12). How else but by truly knowing them can you imitate your leaders' faith, submit to their authority, and make their work a joy (Hebrews 13:7, 17)?

Likewise, you can't shepherd the flock unless you're in touch with the sheep—and shepherding is a hard job. Where there are sheep, there's manure. Where there are sheep, there are injuries to be healed, green pastures and quiet streams to be found, and savage wolves to be fended off. God's prophet thundered against false shepherds who did not take care of the flock: "You have not strengthened the weak or healed the sick or bound up the injured. You have not brought back the strays or searched for the lost. You have ruled them harshly and brutally" (Ezekiel 34:4, 5).

By contrast, the apostle Paul wrote, "We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us" (1 Thessalonians 2:8). Peter urged the elders to be shepherds of God's flock, not out of obligation, greed, or the desire to lord it over others, but because they're willing and eager to serve (1 Peter 5:2, 3).

Is your church led by good shepherds? Are they like the fellows tending sheep near first-century Bethlehem, who hurried to see Jesus and tell others about him? Get better acquainted with your shepherds. Pray for them. Encourage them. Send them a note of thanks. And hurry—they're not getting any younger, you know!