Hotter…hotter…no, colder…When you were little, did you enjoy playing the ‘hot and cold’ game? Perhaps you still play it with children and grandchildren at home now? Essentially, the person is blindfolded, and the caller guides them towards the intended destination by saying “hot” or “cold”. If you are moving in the wrong direction, the caller shouts “cold”, and you readjust your direction. If you are moving in the correct path, the caller shouts an encouraging “hotter”. Further encouragement is given “red-hot”, “boiling-hot” and eventually you arrive at the planned destination.
For those of us who like: clarity, organized plans, and set structure, we love this game. We like to feel as though we can see the road ahead and map out where we are going. And yet as people of faith, we know that spirituality rarely unfolds this way. This morning we are reminded that faith is far less about control and far more about trust. Trust…that is why these words from the Gospel of John speak so deeply into our lives and into the life of the church because they are words of trust: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” We notice, as we begin to unpack this passage, what Jesus does not say. He does not say, “My sheep know the whole plan.” He does not say, “My sheep can see the full picture.” He says, “They hear my voice… and they follow.” This morning we focus on the heart of a trusting faith: not certainty ~ but relationship; not control ~ but trust; not having all the answers ~ but following the One who does.
It is probably helpful to touch on the images of sheep and shepherd because I know many of us do not relish these images in modern day. So, it may be helpful to consider their original intent. Sheep are beautiful, vulnerable creatures. And the shepherd has a passionate love and care for her sheep. Over time, the sheep come to recognize the shepherd’s guiding voice. A voice guiding them away from predators; away from danger; toward care. A modern-day parallel might be the wonderful relationship between child and parent, and (of course) between Creator and creation. The image of the shepherd reassures us that the future is not something we are left to figure out on our own. It is something we are invited to walk into, step by step, guided by the Good Shepherd…by Christ.
This matters deeply for us right now because we are living in a time when the church is asking big questions about the future. Across faith communities, including our United Church of Canada, there is a growing awareness that the landscape of faith is changing. Familiar structures are shifting, assumptions are no longer as certain as they once were. And it would be easy in a moment like this to become anxious, to hold on tighter, or to try to control what lies ahead. But what if that is not the invitation before us? What if the invitation is not to control the future, but to, as the this morning’s text teaches: to faithfully follow the Shepherd?
In John’s Gospel, Jesus is speaking into a moment of tension where people are pressing him for clarity: “If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” They want certainty, definition, and something they can grasp. Yet, as we notice, Jesus shifts the question. The issue is about listening to His voice. “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” We notice that Jesus’ response is about relationship, attentiveness, and learning to listen. It raises a profound question for us as a church: do we recognize the voice of Christ? It is an important question because there are many voices competing for our attention. Voices that say the church is in decline; voices that call us back to the past; voices that push for rapid reinvention. Yet in the midst of all of these, Christ continues to speak, often quietly but faithfully, calling us toward life, toward love, and toward deeper connection with God and one another.
This is where our second reading from the Acts of the Apostles pairs so well, I believe. In the story of Tabitha, we see what it looks like when a community truly follows the voice of Christ. Tabitha is not known for status or power. What Tabitha is known for is compassion. She makes clothing; she cares for those in need; she lives out love in practical ways. When she dies, the community is heartbroken. They gather in grief, remembering her impact, and they call for Peter. What unfolds is extraordinary as Tabitha is restored to life. Yet, we notice that this is not just a miracle story; it is a really a story about a community shaped by compassion, a community that recognizes the sacred value of a life lived in service. Tabitha’s life itself becomes a witness to what it means to follow the Shepherd way.
Here is where the connection to our own time becomes clear. When we ask, “Where is Christ leading the church next?” we are often tempted to look for large, dramatic answers: new programs, strategies, or structures. How can we be the church of old, again? But the story of Tabitha suggests something a little different. The future of the church may not begin with grand plans. Perhaps it will begin: with faithful acts of compassion, with communities that care deeply, with communities who serve generously, with communities who embody Christ’s love in the everyday. This resonates deeply with what I’m noticing in the United Church’s Toward 2035 vision. It recognizes that the future church may look different: perhaps smaller, perhaps less institutionally powerful. But also deeper, more connected, more authentic, and more rooted in the way of Jesus...the Good Shepherd.
This brings us back to the central question: where is Christ leading the church next? The truth is that we do not fully know. And that uncertainty can feel uncomfortable. Just like the opening exercise…we want to know when we are colder (straying from the intended destination) and we yearn to know when we are getting hotter (getting to where we SHOULD be). Yet, I wonder if this is precisely where faith begins. The future is not something we control; it is something we follow Christ into.
The image of the shepherd guides us here. Sheep do not move because they have a map; they move because they trust the voice they know. They learn that voice over time through relationship, experience, and attentiveness. And slowly, they begin to recognize it. The same is true for us. We learn to recognize Christ’s voice in scripture, in prayer, in community, and in acts of love and justice, in others whom we see Christ’s face. Where life is emerging, where hope is taking root, and where compassion is making a difference. Those become the places where Christ is speaking and leading.
So perhaps the question is not just, “What will the church look like in 2035?” But rather the immediate question is: “Where do we hear Christ’s voice right now?” Where is Christ calling us to love more deeply, to serve more faithfully, and to trust more fully? When we follow that voice, even in small ways, I believe something spirit-led happens. Communities are formed – Jesus’ people. Lives are touched – the spark of the Spirit. And hope – the essence of the Holy begins to grow. And if we watch…over time, these small acts grow. They grow and become larger. Not because we planned perfectly, but because we followed faithfully.
I have a disclaimer. There is a quiet courage required in this kind of faith; a willingness to step forward without having everything figured out; a willingness to trust that Christ (the Good Shepherd) is already ahead of us. The disclaimer is that we must have faith.
This is challenging! Challenging to the core, especially to those of us who want definitive answers. Yet, to balance this challenge, there is also a deep promise contained in this passage. Jesus says, “No one will snatch them out of my hand.” This is a word of assurance because following into the unknown can feel risky. This promise reminds us that we are not alone. We are held, guided, sustained, and loved. “No one will snatch them out of my hand”. So as we look toward the future, as we engage the questions of Toward 2035, and as we wonder what comes next, may we remember this: we are not called to control the future; we are called to follow Christ into it, to listen for His voice, to trust his leading, and to embody his love. And perhaps, like Tabitha, our faithfulness in small, compassionate acts will become the very thing that brings life to the world around us.
“My sheep hear my voice,” Jesus says. May we be a people who listen. May we trust that we are known…as a parent knows their child…as the shepherd knows their sheep. May we have the courage to follow. And in that following, may we discover that the future of the church is not something to fear, but something to walk into with hope, trust, and the steady guidance of the Good Shepherd. Thanks be to God.
Amen.