Advent 2025 - Week 4

We opened with a smile about our childhood nativity roles—lobsters and all—to nudge us to see how odd the original cast really was. Shepherds at the manger can feel quaint, but they are profoundly fitting. All Advent We’ve been tracing how God long prepared His people to expect a Messiah, and today we showed why shepherds were “long expected” too. In Ezekiel 34, spoken to a people in exile, God pronounces judgment on Israel’s failed “shepherds”—its leaders—who fed themselves and neglected the flock. Then God makes two audacious promises: “I myself will shepherd my sheep,” and He will set over them “one shepherd, my servant David.” Israel would not be saved by a slightly better leader but by God Himself stepping in, through David’s greater Son. Jesus steps into history as the fulfillment and embodiment of both promises. He looks on harassed crowds as “sheep without a shepherd,” teaches of a shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine for the one, and then says it plainly: “I am the good shepherd.” He doesn’t merely preach with shepherding metaphors; He claims the messianic office Ezekiel foretold, the Shepherd-King who lays down His life, knows His own, and gathers one flock. No wonder actual shepherds were chosen to be the first hearers—and first tellers—of the good news at Bethlehem. So what now? Let everyday shepherding images—farmers, flocks, even a video of a sheep face-planting back into a ditch—remind you who God says you are and who Jesus is for you. We are not flattered by the comparison, but we are saved by the reality: He comes again and again, not with disgust but with determined mercy, to lift us out. And hear His voice. If you’re weary from self-shepherding, He invites you to come to Him, to trade the heavy yoke for His gentle care, to find the rest your soul can’t manufacture. That’s the heart of Advent: in a world groaning under failed leaders and thin hopes, the Good Shepherd has come, and He is still calling your name.