Two things about a shepherd

Two things about being a shepherd seem clear. 

First, we will not bind up the broken from a distance; we will not bring healing to people’s lives by dictate, rebuke, persuasion, or even good intentions. Healing requires touch. It requires proximity. It is hands-on, close contact. The kinds of hurts most people encounter won’t be assuaged by an email, a tweet, or a post. Shepherds touch sheep. They hold them.

One day a woman plagued with a sickness that the medicine of her day could not heal made her way to Jesus. She was healed because of her faith and the power of a limitless Savior, but the healing occurred upon contact. Hurting sheep will not be healed and untouched.

One of the few things I know with certainty about pastoral ministry is that if you don’t like people, you’re not going to be a good shepherd. Indeed, one of the primary reasons why pastoral tenures are so shockingly brief today is because too many shepherds never get close to their sheep. You can’t pastor from a distance. A preacher may sequester himself in his study, but the work of a pastor begins in the hearts of the people we touch.

A second somewhat obvious thought is that healing involves assessment. I can’t help heal those I don’t know to be hurting. This involves time spent with the sheep. The good shepherd is always aware of the signs that a sheep is in trouble.

Shepherds who fail to bind that which is broken have embezzled God’s authority but wasted its privilege. Listen, if even the world knows the first responsibility of a physician is first to do no harm, shouldn’t shepherds of our Lord do that and more. The sorrow of our LORD’s rebuke reveals the irony of caregivers who give no care. Like the religious leader who passed by on the other side of the road is the pastor who doesn’t bind up the broken of his sheep.