The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. How many times have we heard those words intoned, seen them written on coffee mugs, wall decorations, maybe even Facebook statuses? So many times, perhaps, that the meaning has been leached from them, that the words have become empty, pretty things, nice to look at or hear but not really meaningful.
Lately I've done a lot of thinking about shepherds. I've thought about the help and comfort they provide, the solace that can be found in a familiar routine and friendly face.
I must admit, I have felt shepherdless many times in my life. We all have. Moving when I was thirteen and being thrust into a new, different place, wandering through high school, facing college decisions and being on my own in a new place again--if those things can't make you feel shepherdless, I don't know what can.
Each time, though, I have found another shepherd to help me through. In high school, I found steady friends to hold em up. In Franklin, the town once so scary to me, I've found the beauty of the rolling hills and the friendliness of their inhabitants. And, most importantly, I found St. Paul's. Here I found my true home, a place to guide me to the greatest shepherd of all, the one who endures despite all else. Here I found a gateway to the full life Jesus promised. I found it on a hilltop on Iona, in a cathedral in Glasgow, a ruined abbey in Dryborough, even in downtown Nashville. Not only did I find life's fullest moments, but I learned how to keep finding them, how to continue finding God moments and places I could feel my true shepherd guiding me forward. Gateways, we called them. Doors. Thin places. They are everywhere if you slow down enough to find them. Everywhere.
In January, things changed for the youth of our church. And I will not deny that I was left feeling unhinged, like one of my gateways had been shut. But I was wrong. We are all members of the same flock. We are all led by the same shepherd. Ministers may come and go, but the shepherd remains the same. And they're only moving through the flock, anyway. We can all find our own gateways into the full life promised by Jesus, if only we pause long enough to find them.
And so, as I get ready to move north to Boston, I'm preparing to meet new members of the flock and I continue looking for gates in the most unlikely of places. I invite all of you to look with me. You might be surprised at what you find.
