Today is Shepherd Sunday when we remember Jesus’ proclamation: “I am the good shepherd.” It is also Christian Family Sunday, now widely known as Mother’s Day, a time to give thanks for those who have nurtured, guided and loved us with steadfast care. While not everyone’s experience of “mother” is the same, many of us have known someone, regardless of gender or title, who has shown us the kind of love that protects, provides, and walks alongside us.

As we turn to scripture this morning, we listen for the voice of the Good Shepherd and honour those whose lives reflect his shepherding love in our own.

Today’s Gospel text echoes the words of Psalm 23—green pastures, still waters, and restoring grace. Jesus, the Good Shepherd, keeps us, cares for us, and lays down his life for us, his sheep. He knows our names, recognizes our voices, and never leaves us alone. His love—agape—is self-giving, enduring, and calls us to live likewise.

But what do these ancient images, sheep, shepherd, and flock, really mean to us today? What does a modern person make of such a passage?

I must admit, I have no firsthand experience with sheep. I’ve seen cows, horses, pigs, deer, moose, goats, and, of course, chickens and ducks, but sheep. Most of what I know about them comes from books or online sources.

But I know I’m not alone. One commentator says that we often romanticize the image of the shepherd and, by extension, Jesus as the Good Shepherd. But the life of a shepherd was far from idyllic. It was harsh, risky, and demanding. Shepherds were often on the margins of society, spending their days and nights in the fields rather than in polite company. The commentator even suggests that a modern-day equivalent of Jesus’ words might be: “I am the good migrant worker.”

That remark reminded me of someone who would be a fitting godmother to migrant workers in Korea: Rev. Sook Ja Jung, whom I mentioned last week. She is an activist committed to issues of gender and migration. Born in Korea and raised in Japan during the period of Japanese colonization, she returned to Korea after university to study theology and reconnect with her parents’ homeland. Although she initially knew little Korean, she met her husband through a friend, his younger sister, and eventually made Korea her home.

Deeply influenced by United Church theology, Rev. Jung pursued her call to serve those on the margins. After earning a doctorate from the United States, she dedicated her life to ministry with and for those on the edges of society.

While studying at the Vancouver School of Theology, I came across her academic work and became deeply interested in her intercultural ministry. In 2014, I visited her church in Korea. It served migrant workers, many undocumented, from Bangladesh, the Philippines, Nepal, and parts of Africa. Most worked in furniture factories in Gyeonggi Province, among hundreds of thousands of other migrant labourers.

I worshipped with them, and one day, Rev. Jung took me to see where some workers lived. One place, in particular, remains vivid in my memory – filthy, dim, and unfit for human habitation. Despite their efforts, the workers couldn’t keep it clean. Many had come to Korea legally, but, due to complex visa issues and exploitative labour conditions, they became undocumented. They earned far below minimum wage and couldn’t afford basic medical care.

Migrant workers face numerous legal battles with landlords, government officials, and employers. Women, particularly those in rural farming areas, are highly vulnerable to sexual assault, emotional trauma, and physical abuse. On top of that, they face language barriers and experience racial discrimination based on nationality, skin colour, and social status. In Korea, they are a minority among minorities.

When I think of the Good Shepherd, I think of Rev. Sook Ja Jung. She laid down her life for her flock – the poor, the marginalized, and the voiceless. Her ministry was anything but romantic or picturesqueneither polished nor comfortable. It was dangerous, exhausting, and sacrificial. I respect many ministers, but I’ve never met one closely with another quite like her. She never sought fame or recognition. She simply lived the Gospel – especially for women migrant workers suffering in silence. When I visited her, she had just completed cancer treatment. She’s now retired, and her daughter continues the ministry she began.

Rev. Jung’s life and witness embody Jesus’ words: “The good shepherd lays down life for the sheep.” Jesus, our Shepherd, protects us, provides for us, knows us by name, and calls us to abundant life – life renewed in spirit, heart, and community. His voice brings healing, guidance and hope.

There is no doubt that we are his sheep. But is that all?

What happens to the sheep, Jesus’ disciples, after the Shepherd died?

On the night before his death, they shared a big meal and then fell asleep, the sound of the Shepherd’s flute still echoing in their ears. As they slept, they entered a terrible dream: wolves with clubs and torches emerging from the shadows, seizing their Shepherd, and tearing him apart on a hillside outside the city.

In that dream, they huddled together in fear, paralyzed – wondering for three days whether they would starve to death before the wolves returned. But then, on the third day, they heard the sound again: the Shepherd’s flute, faint at first, then drawing stronger and near until it woke them from their sleep. And there, before them, stood their Good Shepherd once more.

Everything seemed the same, yet everything had changed. As they looked at one another, they realized what had happened. They had fallen asleep as sheep… but awakened as shepherds now. In their sleep, each one of them had been transformed into the likeness of their Master. And as they stood in quiet awe and wonder, gazing at one another, the Shepherd placed a staff like his own into each of their hands.
In this powerful image from Barbara Brown Taylor, we are given not just comfort but challenge We’ve been commissioned by the Shepherd himself. We’ve been entrusted with a mission to carry forward. In a world where his physical presence is no longer visible, we are called to make him visible through our lives

Yes, we are his sheep, but we are also shepherds now, sent into the world by our Shepherd Jesus. The staff we are given is not a symbol of status but a tool of service. With it, we are called to lead, protect, care, and guide others in love. This is not optional. It is our sacred duty – to lay down our lives in acts of agape, the self-giving love that Jesus embodied.

So, let us go, not in fear, but in faith, carrying the Shepherd’s love in the world. Amen.