Feed My Sheep
Tlolpaive ra Trpoftara pov.
Bocr/cf ra npoara pov
Exposed to many dangers, in themselves resourceless and feeble, at once dependent and gregarious, the sheep of the pasture supply a most obvious emblem for many of our human communities or associations. But although the king, the prophet, the father, are in the Bible all spoken of as “shepherds,” it almost looks as if the occupation had been instituted on very purpose to image forth the work of the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls- — of Him who, having laid down His life for the sheep, is, in a sense pre-eminent and exclusive, “the Good Shepherd” — of Him who gathers the lambs with His arm and carries them in His bosom — and of whom every believer may sing with the Psalmist, “He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.”
On the other hand, it was the grace and wisdom of the Saviour, before going out of sight, that something of His own pastoral work He assigned to His servants. “He gave some to be apostles, and some prophets, and some evangelists, and some pastors and teachers, for the perfecting of the saints, for the building up the body of Christ.” To Peter, and to all in any equivalent position, He said, “Lovest thou me h Feed my sheep.”
The first thing we notice is the connexion of the two things. “Lovest thou me ] Feed my lambs.” “Lovest thou me 1 Feed my sheep.” ‘ After this, there is little that you can do directly for myself. There will be no need to draw the sword, and smite any one in defending me, for my life will never again be in danger. There will be no need to extend to me the hospitalities of your home, as on that day when your mother-in-law rose from the fever to minister to us — no need for you to go into the city to buy bread, whilst your weary Master waits by the well; for henceforth I hunger no more, neither thirst any more. But as you will still love me, and still wish to show it, here is the opportunity — here are the objects of my affection. If thou lovest me, feed my sheep — my sheep, for the Father hath given them to me, and none shall pluck them from the Father’s hand — my sheep, for I have laid down my life, and bought them with my blood. But I hand them over to thee.* Simon, son of J onas, and all you apostles, for
* c< To Peter it was said, not c Feed thy sheep,* bni ‘ Feed Mine? Therefore Peter is a pastor, not independently and of himself, hut as identified with the
Chief Shepherd (in corpore past oris). If he were to feed his own sheep, those whom he fed would soon become goats.” — Augustini Sermones, celxxxv. 5. In the same spirit, and with characteristic terseness, is the Note of Grotius: “Pasce; id est, ipsis, non tibi, consule; suade, non coge: oves non tuas sed rneas.” “Feed, that is, take care, not of yourself, but of them; use kindness, not compulsion j they are not your sheep, but mine.** my sake take care of them, and treat them kindly, A charge which will recal to many minds the verses of Mr. M‘Cheyne, written beside this very Sea of Tiberias: —
<c How pleasant to me thy deep blue wave,
O Sea of Galilee!
For the glorious One who came to save,
Hath often stood by thee!
“Fair are the lakes in the land I love Where pine and heather grow;
But thou hast loveliness far above
What Nature can bestow.
ct It is not that the wild gazelle
Comes down to drink thy tide;
But He that was pierced to save from hell Oft wandered by thy side.
“It is not that the fig-tree grows,
And palms, in thy soft air,
But that Sharon’s fair and bleeding Rose Once spread its fragrance there.
“Graceful around thee the mountains meet, Thou calm reposing sea;
But, ah, far more! the beautiful feet
Of Jesus walked o’er thee.
u And was it beside this very sea
The new-risen Saviour said,
Three times to Simon, c Lov’st thou Me?
My lambs and sheep then feed.*
“0 Saviour! gone to God’s right hand!
Yet the same Saviour still,
Graved on Thy heart is this lovely strand.
And every fragrant hill.
“Oh, give me, Lord, by this sacred wave, Threefold Thy love divine,
That I may feed, till I find my grave,
Thy flock — both Thine and mine!”
It is this love to the Saviour which has been the great secret ol* each successful ministry. It was this which led the devoted Macdonald to exchange his London congregation for mission work in Calcutta, and which, in answer to his people’s entreaty, made him say, “If any chain forged on earth could bind me, that memorial might; but I feel that, contrary to my own weak nature, all ties are made as flax to me. I feel bound in spirit, and I cannot but go. I feel that I have this night come to the brink of waters, deep, dark, and strong; and never has my flesh trembled as now. But there is a voice from the Unseen which says, ‘It is I; be not afraid.’ That voice I know; it is ‘the Beloved’ who speaks. I must not shrink. I may not fear; but will follow whithersoever He calls. I am not yours, my beloved brethren and flock, neither am I my own. His I am, and must be; therefore, I go”* It was this which enabled the great English evangelist to write on the day of his ordination, “When the bishop laid his hand upon me, I gave myself up to be a martyr for Him who hung upon the cross for me. Till you hear of my dying for, or in my work, you will not be apprised of all the preferment that is expected by George Whitefield.” It is this which from our shy and shut-up spirits takes off the constraint and the coldness, and which, carrying us over our finical reserve and fastidious scruples, makes us instant in season and out of season. It is this which reconciles the accomplished scholar to live among savages, and which carries up to the sultry attic, or down into the damp and airless cellar, the
* Dr. Tweedie’s “Life of Bey. J. Macdonald,” p. 301. refined and high-bred daughters of a Christian land. It is this which makes the patient and long-suffering teacher put up with the waywardness, the selfishness, the ingratitude, and inattention of his scholars; and it is this which made Peter himself and Paul so gentle and much-enduring amongst converts very quarrelsome and carnal, very crude and un-Christlike: for even amongst these wild sheep might be lambs of Christ’s fold, and it was Himself who was saying, “Lovest thou me ] Then tend my sheep; take care of my lambs; feed my flock.”
In a letter to his mother, the fervid Payson writes: — “Oh, what a Master do I serve! I have known nothing, felt nothing, all my days, in comparison with what I now see in Him. Never was preaching such sweet work; never did the world seem such a nothing; never did heaven appear so near, so sweet, so overwhelmingly glorious. God’s promises appear so strong, so real, more solid than the rocks and everlasting hills; and His perfections, what shall I say of them’? When I think of one, I wish to dwell on it for ever; but another? and another equally glorious claims a share of admiration; and when I begin to praise, I wish never to cease, but to find it the commencement of that song which will never end. Often have I felt as if I could that moment throw off the body, without staying to ‘ first go and bid them farewell that are at home in my house.’ Let who will be rich, or admired, or prosperous, it is enough for me that there is such a God as Jehovah, such a Saviour as Jesus, and that they are infinitely and unchangeably glorious and happy.”* No wonder that, when such was the frame of the preacher’s mind, a great blessing began to attend the ministry — a blessing which has left Pentecostal associations around the name of Payson and over the scene of his labours in Portland. Were such fervour ours; were we only suffering our minds to dwell on the grace and glory of Immanuel till a faint assent became a full assurance, and till the concession of His claims became an absorbing sense of personal obligation, the warmth of our feelings would lend a glow to our words, and the Gospel of a shining countenance would at once interpret * “Memoir of Edw. Payson,” chap. xix. p. 365. and confirm the glad tidings of the chapter read or the sermon spoken.
2. Peter and his colleagues were evangelists. It was part of their vocation to bring into the fold the sheep not yet gathered — the wild and unreclaimed. But they were also ^pastors* That is to say, it was their business to provide for the flock food .convenient — food for the sheep, food for the lambs.
A wise and holy man, the father of many faithful — I mean the Rev. Henry Yenn — - has recorded this experience, — “The great danger is, from surfeiting children with religious doctrines or over-much talk. Doctrines they are too young to understand, and too frequent talking wearies them. Many parents err in expecting the religion of a child should be the same as their own. I did not give mine formal instructions till they were eight years old, and then chiefly set before them the striking facts in the Old Testament, or the miracles in the New. I also laboured much to set before them the goodness of our God in things which they could understand, such as the comforts which we enjoyed together. Watching providential occurrences, I made use of them to give a body and substance to spiritual truth. One method used to affect them much — carrying them to see an afflicted child of God, rejoicing in tribulation, and speaking of His love. To this day they tell of one and another whom they saw happy, though poor and in pain.”*
The goodness of God, and His power to make His people happy, are great lessons; and so are God’s holiness and the hatefulness of sin. But even to little children far younger than eight years old there is something wonderfully arresting in the story of Bethlehem, and something singularly engaging. in His pattern who grew up at Nazareth in favour with God and with all people. And there must be in ourselves some mismanagement if in the Book which tells about J oseph and his brethren, about David and the giant, about Daniel in the den, we can get nothing arresting or entertaining for the youngest. And we are sure that in his own later day, if a group of little children had gathered round this self-same apostle, he could have enchained * “Yenn’s Life” (1835), p. 429. them with the story of what had befallen himself, — how he was thrown into prison, and was sentenced to die, and how, the night before he was sleeping, and all of a sudden something broke through his dream, and he opened his eyes, and, though a lovely countenance bent over him, and all around was a sweet, pure light, it was not heaven; for there slept the soldiers, and here on his own hands were the manacles; but he had hardly time to look at them when the chains fell to the floor, and through self-opening gates and silent sentinels, he and his bright guardian passed out into the street, and he went on to a house where he found his friends assembled and spending the night in praying for Peter. And they would have gladly listened as he told them what wonderful things he had seen the Lord J esus do, — His walk on the stormy water, the feast which He gave to five thousand people on five loaves and two little fishes, His raising the dead girl to life, and the son of the widow. And he would have told them how there never had been in this world any one so gentle and kind, — how one day in Jerusalem some mothers brought their little children, and wished that He would give them His blessing; and though the disciples thought it a pity that His time should be taken up with such small children, He looked at them so kindly, and held out His open arms to them, and took them up and blessed them, saying, “Suffer them to come unto me; for of such is the kingdom.” And he would have told them about this very morning at the Lake of Galilee, and how, when going back to heaven, Jesus was still thinking about the little children, and how He had said to Simon himself, “Take care of them. Feed my lambs.”
Strong meat belongeth to those that are of full age; but doses of divinity — the hard questions and high matters of the faith, are not the food convenient for the little ones. The sheep can eat grass and hay, but with its little curly fleece, the lamb in April only plays in the green pasture, and does not care to eat the budding clover and sprouting grass, of which it will be glad enough even in the shape of hay next winter. Hor is the shepherd angry because the truss or bundle which he fetches from the rick has no attraction for the frolicsome young creatures. These bundles of stored-up theology are for the farther grown; but in the meanwhile the simple story and the easy lesson better suit the opening mind. AnjI by way of practical piety, teach them to pray reverently, yet most confidingly and lovingly, to the ever-present Saviour. Encourage everything that is unselfish and generous — everything that is kind and obliging. Let them read the “Children’s Missionary Record,” and get interested in the salvation of the heathen. And let them have the pleasure sometimes of conferring kindness on the poor, so that they may enter betimes into the spirit of that maxim which runs so deep through the work of Redemption, and which is such a characteristic of vital Christianity: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
The sheep also must be fed. It is the duty of a pastor to keep back nothing that is profitable. Most probably he will have his own likings and preferences; but every truth has its use; all Scripture is profitable. As tastes are so different and as in the same audience there is great variety of capacity, and feeling, and circumstances, the wise steward, in dispensing the Word of Life, will seek to suit each want and exigency. Happy the minister who can say with the apostle, “I have not shunned to declare to you the whole counsel of God. I have kept back nothing that is profitable.”
3. The providing of food convenient is, however, not the whole of the pastoral office, whether that pastorate be parental, ministerial, or prophetic. It is worth noticing, that in the original the same word is not used all the three times. The first and third time it is fiocrKe, “feed”; the second time it is TroLfjLaive, “tend,” “do the whole work of the shepherd.” * And of that work one part was to go out and in before the flock. If he was a good shepherd the sheep got fond of him, and came to know his very voice. They liked him and trusted him, and, as they had no fear of his leading them to poisonous pastures or dangerous places, they went out and in and followed him.
And so instruction is only one part of the * In Scotland “herd the sheep.” pastoral office. Quite as important as instruction is example; and he alone is a good shepherd who, not content with telling the road to heaven, “leads the way.” He alone is a good shepherd who to instruction and example adds affection. and vigilance, — who, seeing the wolf coming — disastrous error or terrible temptation — warns the flock, and does all he can to repel the danger. He alone is a good shepherd who is full of sympathy and tenderness, binding up that which is broken, and strengthening that which is feeble. He alone is a good shepherd who feels as a personal sorrow the inconsistencies and declensions of believers; and who, if one were wandering, would leave the ninety-and-nine m the wilderness and go after that which is lost ■.»
But if it be so, there is no shepherd sufficiently “good” save Jesus Himself. dear friends, some of you can say, “The Lord is my Shepherd;” and a good Shepherd He has been to you. You have wanted fos nothing. He has led you and fed you all your life long; and has often led you into places so pleasant that they are a joy to remember. As He asked the disciples, “When I sent you out without scrip, lacked ye anything ]”■ — so at this stage of the journey were He asking you, most of you would be constrained to reply, “Nothing, Lord.” And He has often restored your soul — often spared your life, or rescued and revived your endangered piety. You have gone away from the Good Shepherd — got out on the face of the precipice, or been entangled in the deep and treacherous quag, and were in positive danger of being drowned in the world’s corruption — when, just in time, a kind arm caught hold of you, and, carried on an unseen shoulder, you were again deposited in safety, and led in the paths of righteousness. And now, though you were walking in the valley of the shadow of death, you need fear no evil. There are many “shadows of death.” Some scenes are so agonizing a$d terrible that the man who has once fairly got through them may say very naturally, “Surely the bitterness of death is past.” There are calamities, bereavements, desolations, which, for the moment, sunder you from earth much the same as if you were absent from the body; and fierce diseases which come so near to dissolution, that you ask, “Tell me, my soul, can this be death?” But if these are shadows of death, on the other hand, the believer’s dissolution is but the shadow of dying. The sting of death is sin; but if you be resting on a sin-atoning, sin-forgiving Saviour, the deadliness will be taken out of death. But still, you have the valley to traverse. With its dusky chamber, and its black coffin, and its sunless sepulchre, it looks dark enough; but, when the time comes, you need not fear to go down into it. The footsteps of the flock all point that way, and plain as any are the Good Shepherd’s own. Nor is it so dark as it looks. There is light at either end. The light of the Gospel, and of promises exceeding great and precious, penetrates far in, and the glory about to be revealed shines clear and bright beyond. And you need fear no evil, for One is with you whose rod and staff can comfort. As a guilty, weak, and helpless worm, cast yourself on redeeming grace; and on a faithful Saviour cast all the objects dear to you, and all the work you have been unable to finish; and fear no evil. The valley is short, the Lord your Shepherd is near, and yonder is the house of the Lord, where now you are going to dwell for ever.