Shepherds After God’s Heart

Introduction: why shepherding still matters

It is a joy and an honor to be with you at this year’s Theology Matters’ Conference. I’m grateful for the chance to stand among fellow pastors, ruling elders, leaders, and those who are discerning a call to ministry—people who understand both the privilege and the pressure of ministry. Many of us feel the strain of what ministry has become in our time. Pastors are expected to be theologians and counselors, administrators and vision-casters, conflict mediators and fundraisers, public communicators and crisis managers, churning out opinions on the economy, immigration, and other geopolitical issues. We are expected to be present in the hospital room and persuasive in the boardroom. We are expected to lead with courage and carry on with tenderness. And if we are honest, some days it feels like we are being asked to become CEOs with a Bible.

In the midst of all of that, the question we cannot escape is this: What is a pastor fundamentally called to be?

What is the core identity beneath all the tasks? What is the vocation beneath all the responsibilities?

My claim tonight is simple, but not simplistic: Scripture gives the church a controlling metaphor for pastoral vocation: the pastor as shepherd—under the Shepherding God, under the Shepherding Christ.

The passage I want to use as a primary window into that calling is Ezekiel 34, especially verses 11 through 16:

For thus says the Lord God: I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out. As shepherds seek out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep, so I will seek out my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places to which they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness. I will bring them out from the peoples and gather them from the countries, and will bring them into their own land; and I will feed them on the mountains of Israel, by the watercourses, and in all the inhabited parts of the land. I will feed them with good pasture, and the mountain heights of Israel shall be their pasture; there they shall lie down in good grazing land, and they shall feed on rich pasture on the mountains of Israel. I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I will make them lie down, says the Lord God. I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, but the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them with justice. Ezekiel 34:1–16

But before we go to the heart of my claim, I want to tell you how I came to love this image—and why I’m convinced it is not only biblical, but healthy.

Part 1: a call I didn’t choose

I grew up in a home that was, in many ways, half-and-half. My mother was a devout follower of Jesus, while my father was agnostic and hostile to faith in Jesus Christ. My mother read her Scriptures seven days a week. She introduced me to a devotional that she loved deeply—Streams in the Desert—a book she kept up with faithfully until her death in March of 2023.

My mother taught me the way of Jesus. She knew before I knew that I would one day be a pastor and shepherd of God’s people. I remember one day she told me about a dream she had. In the dream, she saw someone handing me a book—she thinks it was the Bible—and in the dream, I refused it because I was busy playing with my toys. When she told me about the dream, something came over me and I started weeping. I remember my mother apologizing. She was worried that she had put a heavy burden on her ten-year-old child. By the time I reached my eighteenth birthday, I had this inner conviction that God was calling me to be a pastor. I didn’t really know what it meant to be a pastor, but I had examples—examples that shape me to this day.

I really had just one pastor. His name was Pastor Cedric Lue. His parents were born in China, and during the Mao revolution, they fled China and over time landed in Jamaica, where Pastor Lue was born. If you met Pastor Lue, he looked Chinese. But he spoke with a thick Jamaican accent. His parents opened a general store. However, Pastor Lue was called to pastor—not to take over his parents’ business.

Pastor Lue was my pastor. He baptized me. He invited me to join a group of about twenty other teenagers to meet with him on Monday nights to study the Bible, to talk about how to share our faith with our peers, to discover our spiritual gifts, to develop a love for Scripture, and to nurture a life of prayer. Over time, Pastor Lue sent us out in pairs into our neighborhoods on Saturday mornings—to invite people to church, pray for people, and share the gospel with those who did not yet believe.

What I find remarkable about our cohort is that all of us are serving the Lord today. Some are pastors. After Pastor Lue died—too early in my view—one member of my cohort became senior pastor of the congregation and has served for over twenty-five years. Others teach in seminaries, run businesses, lead major nonprofits in America and Jamaica.

I count it a profound blessing to have known Pastor Lue and his family. Through both his words and his daily walk, he modeled the true heart of a pastor—showing me how to lead with genuine humility, how to care deeply for God’s people, and how to endure the unique hardships of this calling with unwavering grace.

Part 2: the challenge I didn’t expect

When I attended Duke Divinity School, I wrote a paper—one that I still have to this day—about a biblical model of pastoral vocation. I chose as my model: The pastor as a shepherd.

Friends, I poured my energy into writing that paper. I was proud of it. I presented it to my professor with confidence. Weeks later, the paper came back with lots of red ink. Not because of poor grammar. Not because of spelling errors. Not because of inadequate handling of the text. No—my professor challenged my use of the word shepherd as a metaphor for pastoral vocation. She urged me to be careful not to reduce God’s people to passive, unthinking sheep, and to elevate myself as an authoritarian—lording it over God’s people. She urged me to find a different model that promotes a healthier relationship between pastor and people—metaphors such as the pastor as Servant, Advocate, Mother, or Farmer.

I have absolute respect for my professor, but on this matter, I disagreed with her then, and I disagree with her even to this day. And what I want to do with the rest of my time is to share the basis for my conviction: The pastor as shepherd is a healthy model for all in church leadership to embrace. Now, to be clear: My professor’s concern is not without merit. If the only source in Scripture for a theology of shepherding were Ezekiel 34:1–10, I would agree with her.

However, the image of the shepherd in the rest of Ezekiel 34 is replete with hope—and rich encouragement—for those called to lead God’s people. Richard Baxter writes in The Reformed Pastor that Ezekiel 34 is the pastor’s mirror. It is not a text to admire, but a text under which to tremble.¹

Part 3: Ezekiel 34—the Shepherding God

Ezekiel 34 is one of the most important passages in the Bible on spiritual leadership. It has three movements: 1) An indictment of false shepherds (vv. 1–10); 2) A promise of God’s personal shepherding (vv. 11–16); 3) A vision of a coming Davidic Shepherd (vv. 20–24).

The indictment: shepherds who feed themselves

Ezekiel is prophesying to a people in exile. They have been scattered. They have been crushed. They have been traumatized because of their rebellion against a holy God. And God says the reason is not simply Babylon. The reason is also Israel’s leadership—leaders were supposed to shepherd but instead they devoured God’s people.

Ezekiel says of these shepherds:

• you eat the fat
• you clothe yourselves with the wool
• you slaughter the fatlings
• but you do not feed the sheep
• you have not strengthened the weak
• you have not healed the sick
• you have not bound up the injured
• you have not brought back the strayed
• you have not sought the lost
• you ruled them with harshness and force

This is shepherding as exploitation. This is leadership that consumes. This is predatory. This is what happens when ministry becomes a platform rather than a calling. And God says in verse 10: “I am against the shepherds.” Such an indictment should sober every pastor in the room. In Ezekiel 34, God cares how his people are led.

The promise: “I myself will shepherd my sheep”

The text turns, and it becomes one of the most tender passages in all of Scripture. Listen to Ezekiel 34:11: “For thus says the Lord GOD: Behold, I, I myself will search for my sheep and will seek them out.” And then God describes his shepherding in a cascade of verbs:

• I will search
• I will seek
• I will rescue
• I will bring them out
• I will gather
• I will bring them into their own land
• I will feed them
• I will make them lie down
• I will seek the lost
• I will bring back the strayed
• I will bind up the injured
• I will strengthen the weak

Friends, this is not authoritarian leadership. This is not domination, or exploitation. This is the heart of God. And here is the first major theological claim of my talk: Shepherding is not first a model for pastors. Shepherding is first a revelation of God. Before it is a job description, it is a divine self-disclosure.

Part 4: the Hebrew heart of shepherding

The Hebrew word for shepherd is roʿeh, which derives from the verb raʿah meaning “to graze, pasture” or “tend, lead” flocks, with the participle form roʿeh designating a “shepherd” or “herdsman.” Metaphorically, this term extends beyond literal animal herding to describe leading or ruling a people. That matters because it means shepherding is not sentimental. It is not merely rural poetry. It is leadership language. But it is a kind of leadership that is life-giving. Shepherds exist for the flourishing of the flock.

Shepherding is leadership that:

• feeds rather than consumes;
• guides rather than drives;
• protects rather than exploits;
• seeks rather than abandons.

This means when Scripture calls leaders shepherds, it is not making people passive. It is making leaders accountable.

Part 5: Ezekiel 34 fulfilled—Jesus the Good Shepherd

Now here’s the stunning thing about Ezekiel. In verse 11 God says: “I myself will shepherd my sheep.” Then in verses 23–24 God says: “I will set up over them one shepherd, my servant David. … he shall feed them and be their shepherd.” So, which is it? God Himself, or David? The answer is yes. Ezekiel is pointing to the day when God will shepherd His people through the promised Davidic King. And that is exactly what the New Testament declares has happened in Jesus Christ. The New Testament transforms this imagery by applying it to Jesus and church leaders. Jesus receives the titles “Good Shepherd” and “Great Shepherd of the sheep” because his shepherding culminated in sacrificial death for his flock.

While the Old Testament emphasized geopolitical ruling, New Testament writers reframe shepherding as teaching and congregational oversight. The Greek verb poimaino (to shepherd) summarizes pastoral work—feeding, tending, guiding, and protecting God’s people, transposed into spiritual dimensions. The relationship between shepherd and flock illustrates what God expects of those placed in church leadership, making shepherding not merely administrative but fundamentally relational and sacrificial.

In John 10, Jesus says: “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” Do you see what Jesus does? He takes the Ezekiel 34 promise—God Himself shepherding his people—and he says: that is me. And he defines shepherding not as control, but as sacrifice. Not as platform, but as cross. Not as domination, but as love.

Part 6: the pastor as under-shepherd

Now, friends, here is where vocational theology lands. Pastors are not “the shepherd.” We are not the hero of the story. We are not the owner of the flock. We are not the savior of the sheep. We are under-shepherds of the Chief Shepherd. In Acts 20:28, Paul Speaks to the Ephesian Elders: “Keep watch over yourselves and over all the flock, of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers, to shepherd the church of God that he obtained with the blood of his own Son.” The flock is blood-bought, and therefore shepherding is sacred.

In his biography, John Stott: The Making of a Leader, Timothy Dudley-Smith captures a moment of raw honesty that challenges every leader. After a service at All Souls, Langham Place, Stott was cornered by a “difficult” member—one of those people who consistently drains energy with criticism. Stott, ever the refined Englishman, responded with “ecclesiastical good manners.” He was polite, poised, and professional. As the person walked away, Stott felt a momentary surge of self-satisfaction for having “handled” the situation so well. But the Holy Spirit immediately convicted him. He realized that while his outward actions were polite, his inward heart was cold. He hadn’t loved the man; he had merely managed him. He realized he was guilty of “insufferable pride,” valuing his own patience more than the person in front of him. To guard his heart in future encounters, Stott began to preach Acts 20:28 to himself. He focused on the phrase: “… the church of God, which he bought with his own blood.” From then on, when faced with a frustrating individual, Stott would mentally whisper to himself, “That person was bought with the blood of Christ. How precious they must be.”²

He moved from seeing people as “interruptions to his work” to “the very reason for his work.” And First Peter 5 says: “Shepherd the flock of God that is among you … not domineering over those in your charge but being examples to the flock. And when the chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the unfading crown of glory.” That is the apostolic corrective to my professor’s concern.

In his commentary on First Peter, Thomas Schreiner writes about chapter five, verse two as follows:

The task of the elders is now explained. They are to function as shepherds of God’s flock. They are not to be like the shepherds indicted in Ezekiel 34 who treated their flock “harshly and brutally” (34:4), who cared only for themselves (34:8). The words “God’s flock” remind the elders that the congregation does not belong to them. It is God’s church, and they are given the privilege and responsibility of shepherding it.³

Shepherding, when done biblically, is not domineering, it is exemplary, it is accountable, and it is cruciform. Shepherding does not elevate pastors over people. It places pastors under Christ and for the people.

Part 7: four marks of shepherd vocation

Let me close with four marks of the shepherd vocation—four ways to examine ourselves, and perhaps to reclaim our calling:

1) Shepherding is relational presence. A shepherd knows names. A shepherd stays close. A shepherd does not love in abstraction. Pastoral ministry is not merely delivering content. It is sharing life.

2) Shepherding is feeding. The first task of a shepherd is nourishment. This is why preaching and teaching are not optional add-ons. They are shepherd work. Not performance. Not branding, but feeding. Preach and teach the word in season and out of season.

3) Shepherding is protecting. A shepherd guards the flock from wolves. From false teaching. From division. From spiritual danger. Protection is not harshness. It is love that refuses to abandon.

4) Shepherding is seeking. This is perhaps the most convicting. God says: “I will seek the lost.” Shepherding is not just caring for those who show up. It is pursuing the straying. It is leaving the 99. It is refusing to let absence become invisibility.

Conclusion: the Shepherd has scars

Friends, I want to end where Ezekiel 34 ultimately ends—with hope. God does not abandon His flock. God does not ignore His scattered sheep. God does not tolerate abusive shepherds forever. God says: “I myself will shepherd my sheep.” And He has. He came. And the reason shepherding can never be authoritarian is that the Good Shepherd wears scars. Brothers and sisters, the church does not need more religious executives. She needs shepherds. Men and women who reflect: the heart of God in Ezekiel 34, the cross of Christ in John 10, the humility of Peter in I Peter 5, and the tenderness of the Spirit who appoints overseers to care for the flock. May the Lord give us grace to shepherd well.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. God’s people say, Amen.

This address was delivered on March 3, 2026, at the Theology Matters conference at Providence Presbyterian Church, Hilton Head Island, South Carolina.

Notes

1. Richard Baxter, The Reformed Pastor (Carlisle, Pennsylvania: Banner of Truth Trust, 1974). See, for example, Section 2: “The Use of Humiliation,” 133–172, ↩︎
2. Timothy Dudley-Smith, John Stott: The Making of a Leader; Volume 1: The Early Years 1921–1960 (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP, 1999), 301. ↩︎
3. Thomas R. Schreiner, 1 & 2 Peter & Jude: New American Commentary (Brentwood, Tennessee: Broadmen & Holman Publishers, 2003), 233. ↩︎