The shepherd lies down in the entrance to his sheep enclosure, and above is the wide, deep sky in endless blue-black. The earthy odor of the sheep comes with the warmth of them on one side and, on the other, cool breezes of the night bring the smell of leaves and brush, and a sound like something passing through a thicket: a reminder of wolves. The sheep pen has no gate of wood or metal; the shepherd’s own body is the gate. The shepherd’s presence is both emotional and physical and emphatically so: he acknowledges his personal connection to the sheep and his responsibility for them with his very body: if a wolf tries to enter, it will encounter in the shepherd a battle to the death.
It is an uncomfortable reality that, like Israelites of Jesus’ day who rejected him because he was not the warrior king they had envisioned, we sometimes also mock our leaders for not meeting our criteria, maybe in things as small as how they look, speak, or their mannerisms. When I get caught up in these conversations, I find it helpful to ask myself what or who the authority of my current determination is, and if this basis is biblical at all. Additionally, the stark contrast between the image of the good shepherd in John 10:11-13 and leadership qualities that in our current culture are at times given chief importance, such as skill in oration, academic prestige, athletic achievement, or military prowess, are illuminating. We must remember that, while these things are not bad in themselves (and can indeed be helpful for those in leadership positions), the greatest of these is love (1 Corinthians 13:13), and that the greatest love finds embodiment in the action of laying down one’s life for one’s friends (John 15:13).
The good shepherd’s actions in John 10:11-18 recall those of David in his youth, who in an effort to persuade King Saul that he could fight Goliath, declared that he had killed bears and lions to defend his flock (1 Samuel 17:34-36). This was the same young David who was looked upon with surprise when Samuel told David’s family it was him, the youngest brother, who was to be king (1 Samuel 16). In her painting The Shepherd David, Elizabeth Jane Gardner Bouguereau portrays David as so young and lithe, it looks impossible for him to have killed the beast he crouches over. Yet, the lamb in David’s arms is inexplicably serene, apparently oblivious to the fangs of the dead lion mere inches from its hooves. And David acknowledges that the battle is the Lord’s by gesturing to the heavens (1 Samuel 17:47). Clearly the lamb does not care that David does not look strong; he demonstrated his strength by being present in the lamb’s time of trouble and rescuing him.
What makes the martial athleticism of both David and the good shepherd an embodiment of love is that as David fought lions and bears in order to defend his flock, and so too will this good shepherd fight wolves to defend those he loves. This is a skill unique to their vocation as shepherds; not all good leaders need martial athleticism in order to lead well. But, a good leader daily strives to embody the sacrificial love both David and the good shepherd demonstrate, which is present, personal, and, as Paul wrote, enduring (1 Corinthians 13:7).
If God is love (1 John 4:7-12), and love endures forever (1 Corinthians 13:7), we can believe Paul when he writes that nothing can separate us from Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:31-39). In the midst of unseen battles between forces that vie for our souls’ allegiance, Jesus has chosen to make his own self the gate to heaven, and he invites us, imperfect as we are, into his life giving presence. This is why, regardless of the good and bad leaders in our lives, and also our own roles as leaders—whether we are older siblings or army commanders, presidents or math team captains—Jesus is the leader we are looking for, through the journey of this life and beyond.