John 21:17 – Feed My Sheep.
Jesus said to him, “Feed My sheep. John 21:17, New King James Version
There's a scene in the movie Judy in which a worn down Judy Garland encounters a kindly doctor who interposes himself as the voice of caution. Predictably, he tells her what the role of Dorothy from 30 years before means to him.
Wistfully, Garland recalls that people always seem to like the pigtails. Used hard by drink, and drugs, and the expectations of others, she is decades from from being able to convey pigtailed innocence believably.
He pivots calmly, quietly. He prescribes, in a sense, that what he liked about Dorothy was how she always took care of her dog.
Garland has never been allowed, or allowed herself, to prioritize such daily routines. More, grander, is expected of her as a Star. This doctor is calling her back to Earth where most of us live most of our lives, reminding her that the subtle, habitual things we do have value.
I thought of Peter in the Bible. He is ready to pronounce his allegiance to Christ. He is ready to assume that it will propel him to a different level of devotion than his contemporaries. He has said he is ready to die with Christ. Unlike his fellow disciples, he has actually taken up the sword, albeit to almost comic effect. He has also seen such efforts that being Other, being the Star, crash.
Jesus has a prescription for him which is not unlike the physician's to Judy Garland so accustomed to distinguishing herself from mere mortals. Jesus says, "Feed My sheep." Building up those who follow Peter as Peter follows Christ won't grab immediate headlines. If it foments revolution, it will do so at glacial speed. Yet, having restored Peter and having the fisherman's life as His to command, this is what Christ calls for.
He can adjust our priorities in a similar way. Like Judy Garland, like Peter, we may feel driven to show our exceptionalism by pushing ourselves to our limits, by surpassing our contemporaries by a lap. Yet His call may be to feed sheep, literally or spiritually, by faith.
His summons may not lead to Earthly marquees. The contract on His terms, the covenant of grace, may not allow us to ignore our own weaknesses while chasing the awed, superficial impression on others. Obedience in the everyday may discipline us to look to Christ for the only approval that matters.
Yet, it is by these means that He so often chooses to work this is gentlest, yet most comprehensively demanding, to us. He insists on proving Himself the Lord of Elijah's diet and despair, of Timothy's tears and timidity, in addition to its his servants' more strategic moments. But at the very time we think He has forsaken our usefulness in advancing His Kingdom by minding our dog days, the point the doctor was making to Judy Garland proves true. It is in this very ordinary, relatable material that Christ might be validated in the eyes of our peers.
There's a scene in the movie Judy in which a worn down Judy Garland encounters a kindly doctor who interposes himself as the voice of caution. Predictably, he tells her what the role of Dorothy from 30 years before means to him.
Wistfully, Garland recalls that people always seem to like the pigtails. Used hard by drink, and drugs, and the expectations of others, she is decades from from being able to convey pigtailed innocence believably.
He pivots calmly, quietly. He prescribes, in a sense, that what he liked about Dorothy was how she always took care of her dog.
Garland has never been allowed, or allowed herself, to prioritize such daily routines. More, grander, is expected of her as a Star. This doctor is calling her back to Earth where most of us live most of our lives, reminding her that the subtle, habitual things we do have value.
I thought of Peter in the Bible. He is ready to pronounce his allegiance to Christ. He is ready to assume that it will propel him to a different level of devotion than his contemporaries. He has said he is ready to die with Christ. Unlike his fellow disciples, he has actually taken up the sword, albeit to almost comic effect. He has also seen such efforts that being Other, being the Star, crash.
Jesus has a prescription for him which is not unlike the physician's to Judy Garland so accustomed to distinguishing herself from mere mortals. Jesus says, "Feed My sheep." Building up those who follow Peter as Peter follows Christ won't grab immediate headlines. If it foments revolution, it will do so at glacial speed. Yet, having restored Peter and having the fisherman's life as His to command, this is what Christ calls for.
He can adjust our priorities in a similar way. Like Judy Garland, like Peter, we may feel driven to show our exceptionalism by pushing ourselves to our limits, by surpassing our contemporaries by a lap. Yet His call may be to feed sheep, literally or spiritually, by faith.
His summons may not lead to Earthly marquees. The contract on His terms, the covenant of grace, may not allow us to ignore our own weaknesses while chasing the awed, superficial impression on others. Obedience in the everyday may discipline us to look to Christ for the only approval that matters.
Yet, it is by these means that He so often chooses to work this is gentlest, yet most comprehensively demanding, to us. He insists on proving Himself the Lord of Elijah's diet and despair, of Timothy's tears and timidity, in addition to its his servants' more strategic moments. But at the very time we think He has forsaken our usefulness in advancing His Kingdom by minding our dog days, the point the doctor was making to Judy Garland proves true. It is in this very ordinary, relatable material that Christ might be validated in the eyes of our peers.
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