Listening for Jesus (Sermon for Easter 4)

This is my sermon for April 26, 2026, at Ebenezer and Black Creek UMCs. The texts I used today include Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-26, 31; Psalm 100; Acts 2:42-47; 1 Peter 2:19-25; John 10:1-10.

1. Introduction: The Familiarity of the Voice

In an era defined by a relentless cacophony of digital alerts and competing narratives, the act of spiritual discernment has moved from a quiet luxury to a strategic necessity. Recognizing the voice of the divine is to be a practiced familiarity. It is akin to the immediate, instinctive recognition of a loved one’s call across a distance. To hear the voice of Jesus is to identify a singular frequency amidst a noisy world that constantly seeks to drown it out.

In the Gospel of John in the 10th chapter, it says that the sheep hear his voice and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all of his own, he goes ahead of them. And the sheep follow him because they know his voice. What does it mean to know that voice? To recognize the voice of Jesus. Consider the voices that we hear, the voices that surround us. The voices that bombard us all the time. Consider the voices of this noisy world. We are a society that lives by the phone. We receive news, social media, constant demands for our attention. Amidst all the voices of the world, we hear lies from politicians, elected officials, news outlets. How do we know which voice to follow? How do we know which is the voice of the Lord? How do we recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd? What is that voice?

When I think about voices one of the things that comes to my mind is an experience I sometimes have. Don’t have it all the time, but every now and then I have it. Just often enough that that that that makes me think about it and reflect on it. Every now and then, as I’m going to sleep, there’s a period between being awake and being asleep. There’s a period right in the middle that we might refer to as liminality. You know, right at the edge of the border. Sometimes when I’m in that liminality, I hear my name being called: Alan. Alan. And more often than not, what I hear is the voice of my mother. She died a couple years ago, but I still hear that voice calling out to me. Alan. Alan. She never says anything else. I don’t know what it is that she might want to say to me, but I recognize that voice as hers. Or consider perhaps when you’re in a crowded room, you know, maybe in the fellowship hall and people are turning about and getting food or getting something to drink and you’re walking around and you’re looking for somebody and you don’t see them in front of you, but suddenly you hear their voice and you recognize it immediately and you turn and there is that person you were looking for because you recognized their voice. In the same way out of all the competing voices that we hear in our lives today, somehow out of that we are expected to hear the voice of the Good Shepherd, to hear the voice of our Savior, to hear the voice of Jesus calling us by name.

Today, our allegiance is a commodity competed for by various voices. Phones, social media feeds, and 24-hour news cycles represent a competitive landscape, each vying for our attention and our follow-through. Without a practiced ear, we risk being swept away by the loudest current. The biblical metaphor of the shepherd and the sheep provides the necessary framework for this anchor. It reminds us that to follow effectively, one must first know the voice of the one leading.

2. The Searching Shepherd: God’s Proactive Grace

A fundamental shift occurs when we realize that the Christian life is not defined by humanity’s frantic attempt to reach God, but by God’s proactive search for humanity. This is the bedrock of Christian grace. We often misidentify religion as a ladder we climb; in reality, it is a response to a God who has already descended. Faith begins not with our seeking, but with our acknowledgment of a presence that has already surrounded us.

This proactive pursuit is anchored in the prophetic tradition. In Ezekiel 34:11-16, God is portrayed as the searching shepherd who vows to seek out the lost, the strayed, the injured, and the weak. The prophet Ezekiel, writing long after the reign of King David, points toward a future Messiah—the heir to David’s throne. This “Good Shepherd” is the fulfillment of the Davidic promise. We recall the stories of the young David, who protected his father’s flock with a simple sling and staff, fending off the predatory lions and other threats. Jesus is the fulfillment of that protective promise. He does not wait for the sheep to “clean up” or find their own way back to the fold before offering care. He meets them in their brokenness and in their wandering.

Theologically, this represents our understanding of prevenient grace: the conviction that grace is given to every person to enable their response, and that grace comes before our listening. As Psalm 100 suggests, we are sought by God before we ever have the capacity to respond to him. We are his people and the sheep of his pasture by virtue of his creation and his initiative. Therefore, our spiritual task is not to find a distant God, but to listen for the one who is already calling us back from the places where we have strayed.

3. Known by Name: The Intimacy of the Call

The call of the Good Shepherd is strategically personal. It is with an intimacy that Jesus does not call out to a nameless collective, but to his flock of people with specific stories, struggles, and failures. To be known by name is to be fully seen.

Human attempts to identify one another are often flawed and prone to error. Consider the administrative or social misidentification common in professional life. The name “Ples”—a family name from my mother’s side—is unique and often confuses those unfamiliar with it. During a sacred moment of ordination, Bishop Cannon became so flustered by this middle name that he hallucinated the first name. Looking at “Alan” out of the corner of his eye while obsessing over the pronunciation of “Ples,” he laid hands on my head and announced, “Ralph Ples Swartz, take thou authority…”   

Similarly, during my hospital chaplaincy in Greenville, the head of the program insisted on calling me “Al.” Despite repeated corrections that my name was “Alan,” he never listened. I hate being called Al. My parents named me Alan, not Al.

In contrast, the Good Shepherd makes no such mistakes. He calls us by name in a way that reaches into our deepest identity. As noted in 1 Peter 2:19-25, he is the “Guardian of our souls,” a title that implies a deep, protective knowledge of our true selves. This is the profound significance of the call: God knows our temptations, our weaknesses, and what we have failed to do, yet he still calls us by name. This total knowledge does not lead to rejection, but to a specific invitation to follow him into a new way of being.

4. The Way of the Sheep: Discipleship in Community

Listening to the Shepherd is not a passive or strictly internal experience; it necessitates a mandate for a response and a specific lifestyle. Discipleship is the practical outworking of “hearing.” If we truly recognize the voice, we must move where it leads.

The early church, as described in Acts 2:42-47, provides the blueprint for this responsive lifestyle. The first followers did not interpret hearing Jesus as a private, individualistic endeavor. Instead, their “hearing” resulted in concrete actions:

  • Sharing resources and possessions with those in need.
  • Devoting themselves to prayer and the apostles’ teaching.
  • Breaking bread together in their homes.
  • Proactively caring for the poor.

This communal aspect is vital. The Gospel argues against the modern, individualistic “me and Jesus” mentality. You can’t be a sheep all off by yourself. To hear the voice of the Shepherd is to be led into the “fold”—the community of faith. Furthermore, this path includes the hard word found in 1 Peter regarding the endurance of suffering. We are called to endure hardship patiently and, critically, to not retaliate, trusting instead in a just ruler. Following the Shepherd does not guarantee the absence of hardship, but it does guarantee the presence of the one who goes ahead of us. In this community, and under this leadership, we find the “abundant life” and the “pasture” promised in John 10.

5. Conclusion: Cultivating the Discipline of Listening

Distinguishing the Shepherd’s voice from the “lies of the world” and the clamor of “social media influencers” requires a practical, daily discipline. In a world where voices compete for our attention to generate profit or power, the voice of Jesus remains steady, but it often requires us to quiet the surrounding noise to hear it clearly.

The mandate for the coming week is simple yet transformative: cultivate a daily morning practice of quietude. Before the demands of the day or the phone intervene, ask a simple question: “Lord, what are you saying to me today?” This practice transitions listening from an occasional event to a habitual state of being.

We are sustained in this discipline by the theological assurance of Psalm 100:5: the Lord is good, his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness continues across all generations.

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Closing Prayer Living God, your holy word calls us into new life. Strengthen us to live what we have heard, to follow the voice of our Good Shepherd, and to share the grace you bestow upon us with others. All this we pray in the precious and holy name of Jesus, our Good Shepherd. Amen.

 

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