Truly, truly, I say to you, he who does not enter the sheepfold by the door but climbs in by another way, that man is a thief and a robber. But he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. To him the gatekeeper opens. The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. [John 10:1-3 ESV)]
Heather Kaufman’s novel Up From Dust is historical fiction. Based on what Scripture tells us about Martha of Bethany, her sister Mary, and their brother Lazarus, it gives the reader a fictionalized version of their backstories. Kaufman’s extensive research for the novel allowed her to paint a vivid and accurate picture of 1st century life in Judea. Even though the story is a figment of her imagination, it reminded me that the people who spent time with the Lord while He walked on earth were real (and flawed) people like us—each with their own personal history. Ordinary people with parents, friends and, for some, spouses and children, they had jobs, responsibilities, secrets, regrets, and weaknesses. Like us, they were people who worried, disagreed, cried, laughed, loved, rejoiced, and mourned. The only thing that made them different from their neighbors was their love for a man called Jesus!
Kaufman’s novel presents the very real possibility that some of Jesus’ followers may have encountered adversity or intimidation while the Lord was alive. Scripture describes the hostility of the religious leaders toward Jesus (and to Lazarus after being raised from the dead), but I hadn’t paused to consider whether that hostility carried over to others who followed the Lord. Her story reminded me that when Jesus told His followers to bear their own cross and count the cost before following Him [Luke 14:27-28], some may have paid heavily to follow the Lord while He still walked the earth. In the face of opposition and threats, I couldn’t help but wonder how faithful a follower of the rabbi from Nazareth I would have been before the crucifixion and resurrection.
Being a 21st century city dweller, I know little about shepherds or shepherding but one of Kaufman’s fictional characters was Uri, a shepherd. His death gave me greater understanding of Jesus’ references to shepherds, the sheepfold, and the good shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep. During the summer heat, shepherds would move away from the villages and take their flocks to higher ground. With the hills of Judea filled with predators like bears, leopards, wolves, jackals, and hyenas, the flock’s sole protection against death was their shepherd. Armed only with his slingshot and rod, shepherds were all that kept the sheep from death and, sometimes, they died protecting their flock.
While up in the hills, the shepherd would lead his sheep into a natural cave or safe spot carved into the hillside at night. With no gate at the opening, the shepherd acted as the gate and would sleep at the entrance. No sheep could leave and no predator or thief could enter the sheepfold without his knowing.
When the fictional Uri fails to return to Bethany with his flock, another shepherd discovers his mutilated body (as well as the remains of several wolves) outside of the cave he used as a sheepfold. The sheep, however, are found safe inside the cave. Apparently, when a pack of wolves threatened the flock, Uri erected a high barricade of branches covering the mouth of the cave. To prevent the wolves from pushing in the barrier, he built the wall from outside the cave—which left the shepherd out with the wolves! While many shepherds might have abandoned their sheep in the face of such an attack, Uri did not. Like a good shepherd, he chose to give up his life to protect his flock. The man suffered a violent death so his sheep would not! Kaufman’s vivid description helps me consider Jesus’ words about the good shepherd with a 1st century mindset.
Picturing the violent and grisly way Uri died helped me further appreciate the horror of Jesus’ torturous death. The fictional shepherd had nothing to gain and everything to lose when he chose to save his flock by sacrificing his life—the same goes for the Good Shepherd who gave up His life to save us, not from wolves, but from sin. Thank you, Jesus, for being our good shepherd and laying down your life for us!
While touring an historic house, the elaborately set dinner table reminded me of the large formal dinner parties we had in our younger (and more energetic) days. I’d start preparing the table in advance by adding extra leaves to the table, gathering the extra chairs, and ironing out the creases in the damask tablecloth. From the cupboard in the basement, I’d haul up the crystal salad plates, my mother’s Lenox china, and the hand-painted Bavarian service plates and Czechoslovakian dessert plates that were my grandmother’s. I’d spend hours polishing the silverware and serving pieces. The service plates were set out, the silverware laid, the crystal wine and water goblets carefully placed at each setting, and the napkins artfully folded. I’d set out the silver candlesticks, put in fresh candles, get flowers from the florist, and create what I hoped would be the perfect Martha Stewart-worthy table setting. There was plenty more work to do in the kitchen. I’d spend days perusing recipes, planning the menu, making lists, purchasing food, and preparing it all. I loved doing it because I loved the people for whom I did it. Nevertheless, as nice as my guests were and as much as they enjoyed themselves, I’m not sure they truly appreciated how much effort went into everything that on that table.
When writing about the Annunciation of our Lord, I came upon some articles by women who take offense at the story of Jesus’ conception. Interpreting Mary’s response as involuntary, they picture the angel Gabriel’s visit to Mary as some weird sort of supernatural rape. This is inconsistent both with Scripture and God as we know Him. The Archangel didn’t say, “Surprise, you’re pregnant!” and leave nor did he physically impregnate her. Read the words as reported by Luke; Gabriel told Mary what would happen, not what had already occurred. It was only after Mary asked how the angel’s words would be fulfilled and Gabriel explained that the Holy Spirit would make it possible that she accepted God’s invitation to motherhood. It was then that the miraculous power of God—the “Most High”—came upon her.
Psalm 119, the longest of the psalms, is a song in praise of the Word of God. Since we don’t read this psalm in its original Hebrew, we fail to appreciate its intricate construction. Each of its twenty-two sections begin with a letter of the Hebrew alphabet in sequence. Each of the eight verses in those twenty-two sections begin with the letter that introduced it. For example, the first word of the first section begins with alef, as do the next seven verses. In the second section, every line begins with beth. The psalm continues that way up to the 22nd (and last) section where every line begins with the final letter of the Hebrew alphabet, tav. 
The celebration of the Lord’s Supper/Holy Communion/the Eucharist has been central to Christian worship since the early church. While Protestants think of the Eucharist as the sacrament commemorating the Last Supper with bread and wine, for Roman Catholics and some Orthodox, “Eucharist” specifically refers to the consecrated elements, especially the bread. How ever you define it, the word “eucharist” originally had nothing to do with this beautiful sacrament.
What would you do if you were six and your father said that your mom is in the hospital because she finds it hard to be happy and “did something stupid”? That question is answered in Duncan Macmillan and Jonny Donahoe’s one-act play, Every Brilliant Thing. In their play, that boy, now a grown man, tells the audience that he made of list of everything that was “brilliant” about the world—everything worth living for—and left it on his mother’s pillow. Reflecting a six-year old’s priorities, the list included ice cream, Kung-Fu movies, laughing so hard you shoot milk out your nose, burning things, construction cranes, and “me.” Although she returns the list with its spelling corrected, the boy’s mother never comments on it. Nevertheless, he keeps adding to his list. Although his mother eventually takes her life, the narrator tells how his list took on a life of its own and eventually saved him from his own depression and suicidal thoughts.
Devotions of the Heart 