The Good Shepherd?

You know the Bible story, don't you?   A man, on his way from Jerusalem, traveling on a road to Jericho, is beset upon, robbed, beaten, stripped of his clothing and left half dead.   A priest and a Levite, rather than stop and render aid, pass him by on the other side of the road.  Along comes a Samaritan -- you know -- a not-so-desirable person -- who sees to the needs of the victim.  What of the priest?   The Levite?  Well, you know, some folks just don't merit their attention.

Fast-forward to the 21st century.  A woman in distress, concerned for her family, attempts to seek help from a local church.  She's not asking for a handout.  She doesn't want money.  She is asking for counsel for her family.  She feels justified in contacting this church because her family is part of that congregation.  No messages are acknowledged.  No calls are returned.   No responses to her urgent letters materialize.    She takes it one step farther and writes directly to the shepherd of the flock.  Again, no response.  

Yet, there he is, entering the sanctuary amidst a raucous noise that substitutes for real music.   In the preferred seating section are local celebrities, just behind the shepherd's row.  For a fleeting second the woman sees a glimpse of her family among the congregants as she watches on her laptop.    There he is again, standing in front of his congregation, speaking a word of prosperity in the New Year, blah, blah, blah.  Folks are in a frenzy, running down the aisles, laying offerings on the steps leading to the platform.  Watchers via the internet are encouraged to text/e-mail/tweet their prayer requests.  Whoop-de-doo.   The new year comes in the middle of the shepherd's prayer asking God to do everything (as usual):   heal the sick, visit the prisons, mend broken hearts, broken homes, broken marriages, do this, do that ad nausem.  The shepherd of the flock is escorted away, his entourage swarming like flies on a fresh corpse.   "A corpse" thinks the woman:  "a perfect way to describe my family."

The woman has a final thought:  why are they protecting the shepherd?  Isn't he supposed to protect the flock?   Doesn't it matter that one has gone astray?  Obviously note.  But it matters to Jesus.   

Back then -- and now -- they all matter to Jesus.   Thank God He didn't send a priest, a Levite, or a 21st century shepherd of a flock so well-numbered that he is sequestered from them.   Unless we are rich, famous or both, we would all be going to hell with no chance of redemption.  

God, help me to remember that You are the Creator of us all, and that You love all of us as much as You love any one of us, and each of us as if there is only one to love.

P.S.  Thank you for my shepherd.