Sheepdogs for the Shepherd
A beautiful image of the pastoral life from Harold L Senkbeil
When I was a child, I never had any inclination toward the pastoral life. The pastor of my Methodist church was a figure who existed from 11 to noon on Sundays, and I had no imagination or real interest in what they did at any other time. It just never crossed my mind. I remember going in to talk the pastor with my parents when I wanted to get baptized; I knew they preached, of course; and I knew they were prone to very long, very melodious, and very boring prayers (a trait I’ve been told I at times have adopted!). But beyond this, I really never, in my youth at least, had any idea of what more there was to it.
And so it’s funny, that all these years later, I am in my eighth year of full-time ministry post-seminary, and it’s still a surprise to me that this is what I get to do with my life. I think that’s kind of how God works: he doesn’t lead you in the direction you thought he would, and yet once he gets you there, you can’t imagine it any other way.
The week after Holy Week always puts me in these kinds of ponderous moods, reflecting on what it means to be a pastor, the good, the bad, the oh-so-glorious, and the oh-so-ugly. Easter for me was one of the glorious days of ministry: wonderful services of music, praise, fullness; we got to baptize a father and his son and daughter in the front of the church lawn, right next to the red light, people honking their horns as we celebrated new life, dunking people in a horse trough; I got to share a meal afterwards with my family, and rest in the goodness of the day.
Man. What a privilege, what a grace. To be a pastor? Who would have imagined it?
I’ve been reading a book called The Care of Souls: Cultivating a Pastor’s Heart by Harold L. Senkbeil, and it’s essentially a how-to guide in the art of pastoral care, with a focus not on church management but on the essential part of the pastor’s job: soul care. Though Senkbeil does come from a tradition that only ordains men (and this is reflected in the language in his book), I still think there is a lifetime of pastoral wisdom that pastors or church people from any tradition could benefit from. Drawing a lot from his childhood spent on a dairy farm, he offers deep insight into the slow, deliberate art of pastoral care. He grounds the proclamation of the Word and the administration of the Sacraments as the twin essential tasks of the pastor, tasks that shape us and form us in everything else that we do. It’s a wonderful read, one that reminds me of the vision of pastoral life that Eugene Peterson so wonderfully describes in his writings.
My favorite part of the book so far is when Senkbeil compares pastors to sheepdogs. He says that the sheepdog, corralling the sheep who lose their way, is always looking to the shepherd. And the sheepdog doesn’t really understand the shepherd’s plan; it’s outside of his grasp. But his tail is wagging anyways as he works, because he has spent so much time with the shepherd and loves the shepherd:
“He was the agent of the shepherd, working for a scheme which was not his own and the whole of which he could not grasp, and it was just that which was the source of the delightedness, the eagerness and also the discipline with which he worked. But he would not have kept that peculiar and intimate relation unless he had sat down and looked at the shepherd a good deal.”
What a lovely image! And as a pastor, I’m learning year by year, day by day, just how true it is. Many weeks and months can go by, and I’m not sure if what I’m doing is having any effect—the sheep keep doing funny things and I’m not sure where to take them—but then, for a brief moment, all of heaven breaks through and I’m undone with joy, with the unimaginable mercy of God.
And it’s in those moments that you look to the Shepherd again, tail wagging, and you remember just how beautiful he is, and how it’s all worth it just to be at his side.
So friends and fellow sheepdogs, my prayer is that you find a little bit of Easter rest this week to spend some time with Jesus, the Good Shepherd, the one who makes all of what we do make sense. I hope that this life is still a surprise to you! You may feel invisible or unimportant, you may feel frustrated in the work God has given you, or you may be spiritually or physically drained from a busy season—in a word, you may be dog tired. But thank God, our Shepherd never tires, and he never loses sight of us, and if we operate out of his strength and not our own, there is no telling what glory might break through. What a life!
I wanted to celebrate that this newsletter has over 250 subscribers now! Thanks so much for reading and sharing posts.
Check out this article by Justin Brierly sent to me by my friend Laura about a possible revival going on in England. It highlights some of the journey of Tom Holland, my favorite historian and podcaster at the moment:
“As a Christian I believe things that are dead can come back to life. That’s the point of the story after all. As G.K. Chesterton wrote: ‘Christianity has died many times and risen again; for it had a God who knew the way out of the grave.’” -Justin Brierly
Almost 20 years ago I read an article suggesting pastors are really sheepdogs for the Shepherd. That metaphor always resonated with me. I am glad to see others appreciate it as well.