Paradise Now

Psalm 23; John 10:11-18

I’ve never wanted to be a sheep. 

I’ve never felt especially fluffy, or inclined to be part of a herd.

But three weeks after Easter every year, we arrive at Shepherd Sunday, and we hear this metaphor on lots of other occasions.

It’s a familiar image for Christians.  The very earliest surviving example of Christian art is an image of the Good Shepherd in a catacomb, a tomb in Rome.  The Good Shepherd appears in tombs and cathedrals for hundreds of years before the first cross or crucifix is drawn.

And although it’s a pretty familiar image, it’s a pretty big and radical claim in its context.

When Jesus says, “I am the Good Shepherd,” he’s telling us that he’s God.  It’s well established in the Hebrew scriptures that God is the good shepherd for Israel.  The guard and guide, who provides abundance, nurtures the lambs and drives off the wolves.

The most familiar example of that is in the psalm we read today. 

It’s a very powerful claim that Jesus makes,

telling us he is the Good Shepherd.

And it’s a powerful claim that we make,

every time we say this psalm.

The Lord is my shepherd.

God is my guide and guard, God brings us into abundance, keeps us out of trouble, creates a feast even in the face of danger, surrounds us with faithfulness and goodness, and we’re in God’s presence every hour of our lives.

It’s a claim to live in paradise.

Did you notice that? 

At funerals or in hospitals, in worship or in Sunday School, whenever we say that psalm we are saying that we live in paradise.

Now.

It’s a radical claim. 

Think about paradise for a minute.  Picture paradise in your head.

Close your eyes if that helps.

Some of you are probably looking at palm trees.  Warm water, white sand beaches.  Maybe a tropical sunset.  That’s the modern standard for paradise, it seems.

Others are probably picturing heaven – paradise as the place where all our fear is gone, all the power of death is gone, and nothing can separate us from those we love.

 I’m sure there are at least a few other pictures in the room – images of what you most desire, or the best place you’ve ever been.

But I’m wondering, are there any of you who envisioned paradise and saw the world we live in, every day?

Because you could have.

Some old and deep traditions of the church hold that paradise is where we are, now, the present reality of our life in Christ.

The 23^rd Psalm, with its images of abundance and beauty, was proclaimed by the newly baptized in some early Christian communities.  You and I, by virtue of our baptism, have become citizens of paradise already – not some time after we die.

Of course, that’s not a promise that baptism means a life on a white sand beach under a palm tree.  (That’s what the cruise lines and tourism folks are selling you.) 

Paradise now is life with the confidence that God guides and guards us – no matter what.  That we are surrounded by God’s abundance, and not even the presence of our enemies or the darkest threats of our fear and anxiety can limit that abundance.  That God’s faithfulness and goodness are unshakable, can never be taken from us, and that we live in the presence of God every minute of our lives. 

I know that many of you already know that’s true.  You teach it to me regularly, as we journey through health crises and budget planning, as the bright ribbons of gratitude and praise continue to appear on our Easter cross, by the font.

But there’s more to paradise than that. Every time I turn on the news, there’s another story about the presidential election.  About what the one guy said about what’s wrong with our country, and about what the other guy said about what’s wrong with the first guy. 

Then the next day, they switch places.

That works to get votes when we’re living in the valley of the shadow.  When we’re afraid of what we can lose.  It all makes sense only if there’s not enough to go around, and we can’t trust our neighbors.

What would our election ads and news look like if every Christian in this country really lived the words we prayed today?
The Lord is my shepherd.  I lack nothing. 

We live in green pastures, with quiet waters. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow, I shall not fear.  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me….

Would you think and talk about politics differently if you believe every word of the psalm and the gospel not only with your head, but with your heart, and more importantly, your gut?

I know I would.  And sometimes I even do.

Would you think and talk and even act differently in traffic?  Or at home, when the dangers of growing up or growing old loom large and the walls of the valley are steep and dark? 

If we believed this psalm with our hearts and our guts, and that powerful part of yourself that lives in your spine and nervous system, would you think and talk differently at work, when deadlines loom, the presence of those who trouble you is all too real, and the shadow of the fear of the economy presses in all around?

Paradise now, for you and me, is living convinced in body and soul that God is our shepherd, and we fear no evil, but rather dwell in the house of the Lord every minute of our lives.  To live without the fear that we can lose what we have, or that we won’t have enough. 

It’s radical enough to change the way we work, live, love, drive or vote – and that can change the world.

In the ancient catacombs and cathedrals, the Good Shepherd was the sign that we walk in paradise in the presence of death and in the presence of power.

Where do would you put that shepherd today? 

I’d put it on my TV.  On my steering wheel.  On my computer monitor.

You might put it on the fridge.  On your checkbook; on the office wall.  Anywhere we need that sign inviting us to abundant life without fear, right here and now.

I never wanted to be a sheep, but I’ve come to realize you don’t have to be white and fluffy to need a shepherd.  At least, this shepherd.

Because the Good Shepherd is the signpost and the gateway to paradise now.

And that really will change the world.  Or at least your life.