My Dear Shepherds,
Imagine if, when we finally meet the Lord, he would single us out to thank us for pastoring his people. Surely, we’d blush and stammer, “No, Lord, thank you! Serving your disciples was the greatest honor of my life!” Nonetheless, Peter told elders like us that an extraordinary reward awaits us:
And when the Chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the crown of glory that will never fade away. (1 Pet. 5:4)
This unique description of Jesus’ Second Coming seems to arrange a kind of reunion of our Chief Shepherd with the “shepherds of God’s flock” (v. 2). Being so clearly grouped with Jesus is a gift, suggesting a special kinship among Jesus and elders.
I know this is kind of a silly picture, but imagine us all gathered in heaven, thrilled to finally be together with all our brothers and sisters in the Lord. Then someone says, “Let’s get a picture of all the shepherds here.” Some agreeably begin to bunch together, the tall ones pushing the short ones forward. Then Jesus comes to us. “I want to be in this picture,” he says. “Shepherds are my kind of people.” So, we proudly scrunch in close around him—all who have borne this calling over the centuries, all of us plain, ordinary, unremarkable folks who have shepherded equally ordinary flocks. I imagine Jesus pointing at me, “Come on Lee. You’re one of my shepherds. I want you in this picture with me.”[1]
All faithful believers are promised “a crown that will last forever” (1 Cor. 9:25), so I don’t know why elders are singled out here. Our faithfulness under pressure has not been greater than other believers, although we have carried the extra responsibility of being “examples to the flock.” We certainly don’t deserve a shinier crown of glory than our brothers and sisters, but I kind of hope our crowns will have a little shepherd’s staff logo on them or something so we can spot each other. If Jesus remains our Chief Shepherd forever, I wonder if somehow we might continue to shepherd with him.[2]
If the promise of a crown of glory beggars our imagination, how about this!
Those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the heavens, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever. (Dan. 12:3)
There’s an old chestnut of a story that I’ve thought of often. I can’t verify any of the details, but one version has it this way. Around 1910 Henry Morrison and his wife were returning from many years of missionary service in Africa. They had no pension and their health was broken.
As it happened, they were on the same ship as Teddy Roosevelt, who was returning from a big-game hunting safari. When the ship docked in New York a large crowd gathered with much fanfare to welcome the former President home. But no one came to welcome the Morrisons.
The situation was deeply distressing to Henry. “Here this man comes back from a hunting trip and everybody makes much over him,” he told his wife, “but nobody gives two hoots about us.” It haunted Morrison for days till his wife convinced him to take the matter to the Lord.
He went into the bedroom to pray and came out a short time later a different man. He explained, “It seemed as though the Lord put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘But Henry, you’re not home yet.’”
Be ye glad!
[1] Lee Eclov, Pastoral Graces: Reflections on the Care of Souls (Moody Publishers, 2012), p.169.
[2] Ibid.
