This is a lightly edited transcript of what I actually said when I delivered this Good Friday message at Spring Creek Bible Church on April 2, 2021. It differs from what I planned to say; for the prepared text, see the manuscript.
I’m honored to bring God’s Word to you this Good Friday evening. My aim is simple: that Jesus would be lifted up, our affections stirred, and that we would worship him anew as our worthy Savior. Father, we have sober hearts tonight as we remember what our Savior endured at the hands of evil men like us for our salvation. Good Friday was the most evil day the world has ever known, yet also the most glorious—a day of inexpressible sorrow that became a day of indescribable joy for those with eyes to see. Cause our hearts to respond with the mixed emotions of horror and happiness, grief and gladness, as we consider your kindness and severity, your justice and justification, meeting in the person and work of Jesus, our Good Shepherd. In his name, amen.
My text is John 10, which may not seem a typical Good Friday passage. We normally consider the historical events of Jesus’ final hours—his betrayal, trial, suffering, and death. Those events are critical; there is no gospel without them (1 Corinthians 15). But the historical events aren’t, by themselves, good news on the surface; the good news is in their meaning—their theology and application. And John 10 stands alone as the only extended theological treatment of Jesus’ death in the Gospels. Here is Jesus’ own theology of his death: he is both the teacher and the subject, the preacher and the sermon. Interpreters debate whether it’s a parable (one point of connection) or an allegory (every detail corresponds); it’s best seen as somewhere in between—more than one point of connection, but not every detail to be pressed. And we shouldn’t read chapter 10 as a fresh start; it continues Jesus’ confrontation with the Pharisees from chapter 9, where he exposed their spiritual blindness against the sight of the healed blind man—the “you” of 10:1 points back to the Pharisees of 9:40. What I want us to see is that the person and work of our Good Shepherd is the good news our sinful, needy, insecure hearts long for—not just this Good Friday but every day. And it’s not only what Jesus did in his final hours that matters, but who he is, from all eternity—because his identity is what gives his work its meaning. So, three points: who Jesus is, what he did, and what he accomplished and promises to do.
Our Singular Good Shepherd
Jesus’ first great emphasis here is his uniqueness. Only he is qualified to be the Good Shepherd; he stands alone, without peer or rival—he alone is worthy (Revelation 5). First, he reveals who he is by showing who he isn’t, contrasting himself with four figures (and behind each, with the evil one and his children, including these blind religious leaders). He is not like the thieves and robbers who steal, kill, and destroy (vv. 1, 8, 10); not like the strangers unfamiliar to the sheep (v. 5); not like the wolves who attack and scatter (v. 12); and not like the hired hand who cares only for himself and flees at danger (vv. 12–13)—you need only look back to chapter 9 to see such false shepherds attacking the man Jesus healed. In each case Jesus is the opposite: unlike the thieves, he saves and gives abundant life; unlike the strangers, he knows and calls each sheep by name; unlike the wolves, he defends and gathers; and unlike the hired hand, he faces all opposition and lays down his life to rescue every last sheep—personally, individually, by name, without exception or failure. Isn’t he worthy of your gratitude and worship tonight?
Now the positive statements. First, he is God. His full deity is unmistakable. He is the “I Am”: John records seven absolute “I am” sayings in which Jesus claims to be the Yahweh of Exodus 3:14 (clearest in John 8:58, “before Abraham was, I am,” at which the Jews took up stones), and seven metaphorical ones, each connecting him to Yahweh or revealing what is only true of God—the bread of life, the light of the world, the gate and the good shepherd, the resurrection and the life, the way, the truth, and the life, the true vine. When he calls himself “the good shepherd,” he surely has Psalm 23 in mind (“The LORD is my shepherd”) and Ezekiel 34 (“you are my sheep…and I am your God”), identifying himself with Yahweh, the shepherd of his people—a theme fulfilled in him as “the great shepherd” (Hebrews 13), “the Shepherd and Overseer” and “chief Shepherd” (1 Peter), and the Lamb who is our shepherd (Revelation 7). He also claims oneness with the Father: “I and the Father are one” (v. 30); “the Father is in me and I am in the Father” (v. 38)—and the Jews understood, charging him with blasphemy, “because you, being a man, make yourself God” (v. 33).
Second, he is man. It wasn’t enough for the Good Shepherd to be God; he had to become a man to rescue his sheep. “The Word became flesh” (John 1:14); nearly forty times in John, Jesus says the Father sent him into the world, and our text stresses it too (“I came that they may have life,” v. 10; “you, being a man,” v. 33; “the Father…sent [him] into the world,” v. 36). Ezekiel 34 promised a coming Davidic king—“I will set over them one shepherd, my servant David” (34:23–24; cf. 37:24). The Messiah had to be a man, because God as God could not lay down his life to save the sheep; the shepherd himself had to become a sheep—which is exactly what John saw: “the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd” (Revelation 7:17). Jesus is both priest and sacrifice, both prophet and prophetic word, both king and servant, both shepherd and lamb, both God and man. He shatters our false dichotomies and small-minded either-or thinking; we cannot fit him in a neat box. He is the unique and mysterious God-man—let us respond in awe and worship. And third, he is good. He calls himself “the good shepherd” three times (vv. 11, 14). The word isn’t the usual agathos (from which we get the name Agatha) but kalos (from which we get “calligraphy,” beautiful writing)—beautiful, excellent, pleasing, desirable. Where agathos stresses objective goodness, kalos adds an emotional, subjective element. Is this how you see Jesus—not merely perfect, but beautiful? May God give us not only minds to think true thoughts about Jesus but eyes to behold and hearts to embrace his matchless beauty. (To see that beauty in action, read the very next chapter, John 11, and watch his tenderness with Mary, Martha, and Lazarus.) This is our singular Good Shepherd: he is God, he is man, and he is good.
Our Sacrificial Good Shepherd
Jesus’ goodness shows itself in his sacrificial love: “the good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep” (vv. 11, 15). This is his atoning death—willingly submitting to crucifixion for his people. And his knowledge of the sheep here isn’t merely intellectual (he knows everyone); it’s relational and particular, exclusive to his own—like the way Adam “knew” Eve (Genesis 4:1) or God “knew” Israel out of all peoples (Amos 3:2). It’s this relationship of love that moves Jesus to lay down his life. Consider four characteristics of his sacrifice. First, it is self-sacrificial (vv. 11, 15, 17). There are many noble ways to sacrifice for others—a man giving up pleasures for his family, a mother her freedom for her children—but Jesus didn’t sacrifice his ambitions or his time or resources; he sacrificed himself, his very life. “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13); “by this we know love, that he laid down his life for us” (1 John 3:16). And unlike the police officers, firefighters, and soldiers who nobly face possible death, Jesus signed up for certain death—and he died not for his friends but for his enemies. Don’t let the tameness of sheep hide our true nature: we were, in a sense, wolves in sheep’s clothing when Jesus died to save us. As Paul says, “Christ died for the ungodly”; “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us”; “while we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son” (Romans 5:6–10). What indescribable love.
Second, in his sacrifice he is our substitute. The little word “for” (Greek hyper, vv. 11, 15) means “in the place of, instead of”—the glorious doctrine of substitutionary atonement. The shepherd places himself between the sheep and every threat, shielding them; Jesus took our place and died the death we deserved, bearing the full wrath of God justly aimed at us and our sin. His death wasn’t merely a good example (though it was that); he really died for us, as a real sacrifice, making real atonement and satisfying the full fury of God’s wrath. Third, in his sacrifice he is sovereign. He was in complete control to his final breath—and beyond: “I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and…to take it up again” (vv. 17–18). Pilate didn’t take his life, nor the Jews, nor Judas, nor the soldiers, nor the powers of darkness; he laid it down freely (“It is finished,’” and “he…gave up his spirit,” 19:30). And the same authority he exercised over his death he exercised over the grave, rising in victory. Other shepherds may die protecting their sheep, but then the flock is scattered; not so our Good Shepherd—in his death he defeated death and rose again, protecting every last one of his sheep. He is sovereign over life and death, not only his own but yours and mine—he is the resurrection and the life.
Fourth, in his sacrifice he is selective—he lays down his life “for the sheep.” But who are they? They are Jews and Gentiles: “I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also…so there will be one flock, one shepherd” (v. 16). The “other sheep” are the Gentiles, once “strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world” (Ephesians 2:12), but now, “in Christ Jesus…brought near by the blood of Christ,” made one new man and fellow citizens with the saints (2:13–22; cf. 1 Peter 2:9–10; Isaiah 49:6). John says the same when he interprets Caiaphas’s prophecy—that Jesus would die “not for the nation only, but…to gather into one the children of God who are scattered abroad” (John 11:51–52). This is especially good news for us, most of us Gentiles by descent. There’s one more crucial point about the sheep: they belong to the Son—“my own,” “my sheep” (vv. 3, 4, 14, 26, 27)—and they belong to him before they are saved. “I have other sheep…I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice” (v. 16): unsaved sheep who will be saved. And note the order in verse 26: “you do not believe because you are not among my sheep”—not “you are not my sheep because you don’t believe.” Being a sheep precedes and leads to faith. These sheep are those the Father has given the Son (“my Father, who has given them to me,” v. 29)—a favorite Johannine expression (John 6:37, 39; 17:2, 6, 9, 24; 18:9; Hebrews 2:13) and the glorious, hope-giving doctrine of election. His sacrificial, substitutionary, sovereign death is for them—for you tonight, if you know him by faith, and for all who hear his voice and come.
Our Successful Good Shepherd
Success means achieving a purpose, and Jesus states his plainly: “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly” (v. 10). So to succeed, he must give full, abundant life to every one of his sheep—a success that flows out of his sacrifice, which flows out of his singularity. Because he is who he is, he could make the sacrifice he made; and because he made that sacrifice, he succeeds in his saving purpose. Consider four aspects. First, he successfully seeks: he “calls his own sheep by name” and “they will hear my voice” (vv. 3–4, 16)—a beautiful picture of the effectual call of God, the same call that raises Lazarus in the next chapter, that made light shine out of darkness at creation (2 Corinthians 4:6), the call that creates what it commands. Like the shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine, finds the one, and carries it home rejoicing, our Good Shepherd seeks out his own. Second, he successfully saves: “I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice” (v. 16). That “must” runs throughout John for the necessity and certainty of Jesus’ ministry, death, and resurrection—so the salvation of every one of his sheep is as certain and guaranteed as every other part of his work. Nothing is left to chance. It’s the certainty of Matthew 16:18—“I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” Jesus doesn’t hope to build his church; he will, and nothing can stop him. Do you believe this? Do you pray and evangelize this way? Rest your confidence in the invincible success of our Good Shepherd.
Third, he successfully satisfies: his sheep “will go in and out and find pasture” and have life “abundantly” (vv. 9–10)—expressions of excess. As Psalm 23 says, the sheep lack nothing: green pastures, still waters, a restored soul, an overflowing cup. And fourth, he successfully secures them. John 10:27–29 is one of the strongest promises in all the Bible: “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand.” The Greek is layered for maximum force—the emphatic “I” stressing his own authority as guarantee, an emphatic double negative for “they will certainly never perish,” the word “forever,” then “no one will snatch them from my hand,” and finally the almighty Father’s hand over all. Promise upon promise, security upon security. Robbers cannot break in and steal; our Good Shepherd will protect every sheep given to him—even to the point of death, and, astonishingly, by means of his death. As In Christ Alone sings, “No power of hell, no scheme of man / can ever pluck me from his hand.”
Paul unpacks it powerfully at the end of Romans 8, and with this we close: “If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all….Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies….Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?…In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life…nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” This is our Good Shepherd, and this is the good news—this is what makes Good Friday so good. All that he is, all he has done, and all he will do are ours if we know him by faith—and, better still, we are his. Do you believe that tonight? Does it make your heart sing? And it can become yours this very night if you hear his voice and come to him in faith.
Let’s pray. Father, we stand in awe of Jesus, our Savior and Good Shepherd—unlike any other, who did what no one else could do and what we could not do. He willingly laid down his life in our place to save, unite, and secure us as his own forever. We’re amazed that you gave us to him as a gift from all eternity, and that he endured all the fury of God and man and hell to redeem us and bring us into the fold as your people. Send us on our way enthralled with our Savior, in anticipation of celebrating his resurrection, as he exercised his sovereign authority to take his life up again. In the name of Jesus, our Good Shepherd, amen.