Sadao Wantanabe “The Good Shepherd” . 1968
I struggle with this passage. There have been times when I’ve not been sure of the Shepherd’s voice — or known, exactly, what I’m listening for. There have been times when I’ve sat primly in a pew and wondered whether the shepherd knew me at all. But then? Then that still, small voice whispers: “No one will snatch them out of my hand.”
Hindsight is 20-20. There have been incidences when I was ripe for snatching and times when I probably deserved it. I’ve been retrieved from those gaping jaws and drawn into the arms of the holy of holies more than once. Grace led me there.
To know the sweetness of the nectar when we come to believe that the Shepherd recognizes us is the culmination of a life in faith. To gulp thirstily when we recognize the Shepherd’s voice is primal. And when God carries us through times of trial or dances with us during times of celebration? That is like drinking from God’s own cup.
It is the nectar of Truth that bids us return.