Easter 3 2026

Text: “I am the Good Shepherd. I know My own and My own know Me… and I lay down My life for the sheep” (John 10:14–15).

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

In the Church’s historic calendar, this Sunday is known as Misericordia Domini—“The mercy of the Lord.” Yet for many Christians, it has become known more simply and more popularly as Good Shepherd Sunday. That is telling. For generations, the Church has returned again and again to this image of Christ as the Good Shepherd because it speaks so deeply to the human condition. There is something revealing about that. For all our modern insistence on independence, autonomy, and self-determination, we know—whether we openly admit it or not—that we are not truly self-sufficient. You can strive for control. You can pursue security. You can insist that you are the master of your own life. But beneath all of it lies an uncomfortable truth: you are not safe by yourself. You are not beyond danger. You are not above fear. And you are not immune to suffering, guilt, or death.

That is true for adults, and it is true for children. Some object when Christians speak to children about sin, forgiveness, and salvation, as though such things are harmful or cruel. But that misunderstands reality. Children already know that something is wrong. They already know fear. They already know guilt. They already know that they have done what they should not do and failed to do what they should. As G.K. Chesterton famously observed, fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed. So it is with the Gospel. Scripture does not burden people—young or old—with the knowledge that evil exists. They already know that. Scripture proclaims something far greater: the dragon can be slain. Sin can be forgiven. Death can be defeated. You are not abandoned. You have a Shepherd.

Because apart from Him, you are not safe. Scripture does not describe your problem merely as occasionally losing your way. It is far worse than that. You live in a fallen world, a world trapped under sin and death. Everywhere you look, creation groans beneath the curse. Suffering, fear, pain, shame, and death surround you. And this is not merely an external problem. By nature, you are bound to it. You do not simply suffer under sin; your sinful flesh cooperates with it. You have not merely made mistakes. You have desired what is evil. You have chosen your own will over God’s will. You have listened to false shepherds—your pride, your appetites, your fears, your desire for control, your pursuit of comfort. Left to yourself, you do not merely lose your way. You follow paths that lead to death. You cannot free yourself.

Without Christ, you are not independent sheep charting your own course. You are trapped sheep in a dying world, captive to sin, stalked by death, and powerless against the ancient wolf who seeks to devour you. And that is why Jesus speaks as He does: “I am the Good Shepherd.” He does not say, “Find your way.” He does not say, “Save yourselves.” He does not say, “Become stronger.” He says, “I am.” Your hope is not in your ability to escape. Your hope is in the Shepherd Who comes for you.

This is the heart of the Gospel: Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God, has come into the darkness of your fallen world to seek and to save the lost. He has not abandoned His sheep to the wolf. He has not left you imprisoned beneath sin and death. He has entered directly into your danger. He knows His sheep. He knows your sin. He knows your fear. He knows your failures. He knows the death that hangs over you. And still, He does not turn away. Instead, He lays down His life for the sheep.

At the cross, your Good Shepherd does not merely risk His life. He gives it. There, He places Himself between you and the wolf. He bears your sin. He takes your guilt. He suffers your judgment. He enters your death. The Shepherd dies so that the sheep may live.

And then He takes up His life again. The grave does not hold Him. Death does not keep Him. The dragon is slain. The wolf is defeated. Your Shepherd lives. And because He lives, you live also.

You are not saved because you finally found the right path. You are saved because your Shepherd refused to lose you. He sought you. He redeemed you. He called you by name. He made you His own.

That voice still calls you even now—through His Word, through Holy Baptism, through Absolution, through His body and blood. Your Good Shepherd still speaks. And His sheep know His voice.

And those who know the Shepherd’s voice are not merely rescued—they are entrusted. The Good Shepherd who has sought you and saved you now sends you. As stewards of the Gospel, you have been given the greatest treasure imaginable: the good news that the Shepherd has laid down His life and taken it up again for the salvation of the world. This Gospel is not yours to hide. It is yours to confess. There are still sheep trapped in fear. Still sheep pursued by guilt. Still sheep listening to strangers. Still sheep who do not yet know the voice of their Shepherd.

So the Church speaks. You speak. Not because witnessing is a burdensome program. Not because evangelism is a marketing strategy. But because those who have been found by Christ desire others to be found as well. You know the mercy of the Lord. You know the Shepherd’s voice. You know where forgiveness is found. You know where life is given. And so, like the shepherds at Bethlehem, like the women at the empty tomb, like the apostles sent into the world, you go and tell.

This is part of what it means to grow as disciples in this congregation. You are gathered by the Shepherd, fed by the Shepherd, protected by the Shepherd—and sent by the Shepherd. Your words, your love, your witness all become instruments through which the Good Shepherd still calls His sheep.

For there is no greater gift you can offer this dying world than the voice of the One Who has conquered death.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.