Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on April 26, 2026

[sermon begins after the Bible reading]

John 10:1-10 [Jesus said:] ¹ “Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. ² The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. ³ The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. ⁴ When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. ⁵ They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.” ⁶ Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.
⁷ So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. ⁸ All who came before me are thieves and bandits, but the sheep did not listen to them. ⁹ I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved and will come in and go out and find pasture. ¹⁰ The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”

[sermon begins]

You may have felt a Holy Spirit surge over the past few days as Lutherans across our four state Rocky Mountain Synod gathered in Denver for our Synod Assembly led by elected Bishop Meghan Johnston Aelabouni.[1] We hosted a special guest this year. Imran Mohammed Siddiqui is Vice President of the ELCA, Augustana’s denomination. and chairs the Churchwide Council.[2] “An atheist in college, he converted to Christianity in 2009 through the work of the Spirit in the Pentecostal church. After being invited by two of his friends to worship at St. John’s Lutheran Church in Atlanta in 2011, he fell in love with the liturgy and the Lutheran focus on God’s grace.”[3] He brought our Presiding Bishop Yehiel Curry’s welcome to the Assembly.

Imran partook in a hot wing interview with Bishop Meghan and Synod V.P. Ray Ferry. In a hot wing interview, the participants eat progressively hotter wings while talking with each other. During the hottest of the wings, Imran got fired up about God’s grace that we celebrate and need to share. People need to hear about God’s unconditional grace and love from us. He said that we have literal words of life to share with the people around us and asked why aren’t we doing it!

A few weeks ago, Pastor Michael preached to us about the sign that comes right before ours today—the man born blind to whom Jesus gives sight. The man born blind, who could now see because of Jesus, was launched into fame of his own. And he was also launched into community. Rather than narrow the playing field. Jesus opened it to include one more so that the man could have life and have it abundantly. Jesus who said, “I AM the gate,” opened it wider.

Jesus is all about abundance in the gospel of John.[4] Fine wine that overflows at a wedding. Bread and fish that feed 5,000. Love that pours through death. Life that lives beyond it. Sign after sign accomplished by Jesus to reveal the risen one who laid his life down. That’s in verse 11 just after our gospel reading today, Jesus said, “I AM the good shepherd—the good shepherd lays his life down for his sheep.” On Good Shepherd Sunday, it’s easy to get confused as to whether Jesus is the gate or the shepherd. The answer to both is yes. Yes, Jesus is the gate. Yes, Jesus is the shepherd.

In our Bible reading, Jesus explains the sign of the sight restored to the man born blind in his discourse as the gate and the shepherd. Shepherds in the Bible are leaders and kings—Moses and King David are two of many shepherd examples, and then Jesus had the title. To give us a place to focus, hear Jesus’ gift to us as he says, “I am the gate.” He says it twice. “I am the gate.” A gate denying thieves and bandits their goals. A gate opened by nail-wounded hands. A gate opened for easy passage to food and life.

Jesus said that he came to give abundant life. The theme of our Synod Assembly was Life in Christ. Assembly is an interesting mash-up of lay folks, ministry leaders, and rostered deacons and pastors. Pat, Don, A.J., Pastor Michael, and I attended as Augustana’s voting members. We heard stories from folks in Lutheran Churches across Utah, Wyoming, New Mexico, Colorado, and El Paso, Texas.

One story from Assembly that sticks with me was the interview of a college senior named Matt. He brings several of his friends to church every Sunday, driving around campus to pick them up. Matt’s faith is as much an open topic for him as everything else in his life. When friends are struggling, he says to them that he has something that works for him and asks if they’d like to hear about it. Depending on the situation, he may even offer to pray with them. What caught my attention was when he said to his friends that he has “something that works me.” When I was in my early 20s, I didn’t know which end was up religiously or theologically. The Jesus taught to me growing up was scary and unpredictable. I had two close friends that I was able to ask about their faith because the way they lived was compelling. Both of them said almost exactly what Matt said, “It works for me.” Matt is more assertive. He says, “I have something that works for me, would you like to hear about it?”

Some of us have reasons for why church or why Jesus works for us. Some of us may still be trying to figure it out. Jesus the Good Shepherd as a gate that stands open is one of mine. While I celebrate the heights of human achievement with those that scale them. I’m much more interested in the way Jesus levels the playing field by laying his life down and opening the gate for us all.

For Jesus followers, figuring out what works for us by faith and how to talk about it is a way of faith. It can also be a natural instinct to set up the gate so that we might feel some small glimmer of hope that our right faith keeps us safe from that which would harm us or destroy us. But we can so quickly turn our instinct into driving people out as if we ourselves are the gate, or at least the ticket-taker.

Jesus says to his disciples, “I am the gate.” Jesus as the open gate in this passage is very, very different than Jesus as a faith-ticket-taker. You know, like I have my ticket of faith which gives me entrance to the right church and then, at the just the right time, I hand my ticket of faith over to Jesus so that all will be well, so that I will be well.

I’m pretty sure there are no tickets of faith-in-Jesus that purchase protection for deflecting the worst kind of pain. Perhaps to confirm this we could check in with a few of our most faithful siblings in the nearest ICU or hospice.

And I’m pretty sure that there is no ticket-of-faith in Jesus that unleashes a cash windfall – perhaps we could check in with some of our poorest and most faithful siblings in Christ next door and around the planet who wonder where their next meal is coming from.

We experience faith living in the shadow of the cross while clinging to the promise of the Easter resurrection. In the season of Easter, we live on this side of the resurrection although we see it through a glass darkly.[5] The realities of the cross are real even today. Jesus does not describe a world free of bandits and thieves. Jesus names the bandits as real, as the powers that rob us of life and health.[6]

So then, Jesus is the gate to the abundance of what? He says, “I came so that you may have LIFE and have it abundantly.”  That he says this through the specter of the cross is key. Jesus lives a truth about the mess of human reality on the cross. Jesus overcomes that reality not by ignoring it but by dying on it. Lighting up our vulnerability through his own—vulnerability that cannot be ignored. So then we can stop pretending that we know enough and are strong enough to be our own gates, our own gods. Jesus promises an abundant life that is the power of God’s love in the midst of real threats, in the middle of thieves and bandits who kill and destroy, who show up in the valley of the shadow of death.

Jesus is the gate through whose death and resurrection we enter and emerge into life abundant today, no waiting.

Jesus is the gate who sees the truth of the whole you – the image of God in you and the worst of the brokenness in you.

Jesus is the gate who promises that death, when it comes, may win the moment but does not win the day when you breathe your last in this body and awake in the next.

Jesus is the gate who lays his life down in unconditional love and grace for you. Alleluia and amen.

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[1] Rmselca.org/assembly26

[2] ELCA.org

[3] Imran M. Siddiqui | People | ELCA

[4] Laura Holmes, Professor of New Testament, Wesleyan Theological Seminary, Washington D.C.. Commentary on John 10:1-10 for April 26, 2026. Commentary on John 10:1-10 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

[5] 1 Corinthians 13:12  For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; but then shall I know, even as also I am known.

[6] Craig Koester, Gospel of John, Course Lecture at Luther Seminary, October, 13, 2010.

[sermon begins after two Bible readings; 1 John reading is posted at the end of the sermon.]

Psalm 23 The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. 2 He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; 3 he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake. 4 Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff— they comfort me. 5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.

John 10:11-18 “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. 12 The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. 13 The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. 14 I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, 15 just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. 16 I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. 17 For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. 18 No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.”

[sermon begins]

Some of you may have figured out that I like a good movie. What you may not know is that I have favorites that I watch over and over again.  (My husband Rob can easily verify this claim if you need it backed up.)  Re-watching a movie is a bit like a kid asking to hear the same story that they’ve heard more times than can be counted. The story never seems to get old. I see new things about the characters or hear one of the well-written, well-delivered lines, and if Rob has drifted into the room I’ll turn to him and say, “I love that line.” Some of these tried and true favorites are the Lord of the Ring trilogy, The Hundred-Foot Journey, and A Knight’s Tale.  Every so often I’ll re-watch bits of disaster films like San Andreas or 2012. Towards the end of the movie 2012, the President is addressing the nation about the impending doom after giving up his seat on the rescue boat.[1] He concludes his remarks with the opening words of the 23^rd Psalm, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall…”  The doom cuts short his prayer as the television screens go static. Psalm 23 pops up in many movies. It’s one of the best known parts of the Bible to non-churchy people. My guess is that movie makers use it to say a lot in a little amount of time, to say something about hope and comfort in a dire situation.

In dire, scary situations the shorthand of Psalm 23 gets us to the same point quickly, acknowledging life and hope while walking through the valley of the shadow of death. This notion occurred to me during yesterday’s training downstairs here about what to do in an active shooter situation. I was getting myself to the church on time to join congregation volunteers and our staff, as well as our next door neighbors – the priest from the Greek Orthodox Church and the head of security for the Jewish Community Center. I showed up pretty sad that this was even a thing in the world to show up for.

Two City of Glendale law enforcement officers led the training. They taught us to, “Run. Hide. Fight.” They clued us in that fire extinguishers are every 75 feet in public buildings by code and can be used as a weapon when running and hiding are not an option. They taught us to apply tourniquets and pack wounds. They said things like, “Your body can’t go where your mind hasn’t been.” Based on their information, we’re to think about what each of us could and would do on behalf of other people and ourselves – like the President in the movie 2012 who gave up his seat in the rescue boat, like the writer of the First John reading whose example of Jesus laying his life down for us challenges us to lay our lives down for each other.[2]  We practiced together because it’s tough to actually do what we haven’t first learned to do. Afterwards, it occurred to me not for the first time that “shepherding a flock” has a very broad scope in the “other duties as assigned” part of the job description. It also occurred to me, not for the first time, that being part of Jesus’ flock holds a tension between being an individual person and being together as a group.

As a small part of what Jesus calls his “flock” in the Gospel reading today, we worship in a style that’s called liturgy. We stand and sit, pray and sing together which is one way of experiencing faith together. I’ve heard it affectionately called “Lutheran aerobics.” Our shared experience with the liturgy is also practice – because our bodies can’t go where our minds haven’t been. We practice our faith together here so that faith has a chance at weaving into our complicated lives. Last week, someone asked me a question about the liturgy. The question was something like, “Do you think that people experience the liturgy as rote and mindless?” I answered that I can’t speak for all y’all but that for some whom I’ve spoken with about it, the liturgy we do together creates a container through which we experience the mystery of God’s transcendence. We move as a flock to acknowledge the mystery and hear God’s promises yet one more time. Because like actual sheep in an actual flock, our brains don’t seem to be able to hold onto any one thought for very long.

As a flock, we often say Psalm 23 at funerals here. If it’s chosen, we say it together like we did just a few minutes ago. This does a couple of things. It makes it a personal prayer from each one of us as we pray in the first person. But, because we say it together, it becomes something we pray for each other as well.  Simply put, as a flock we hold faith when those among and around us cannot. We hold faith when the valley of the shadow of death is too dark for someone else in the flock. This is where I think we Western Christian types get hung up on being a person of faith rather than a people of faith, where we make it about our own individual power rather than about the power of the shepherd. We can talk about what our flock power can accomplish so much more easily that we can talk about what Jesus, the Good Shepherd, has already accomplished.

On the cross, as the Good Shepherd, Jesus accomplished the expansion of God’s love for the world into God’s covenant with the world. Out of the tomb, Jesus frees us into God and toward each other.  We are a flock set free and at the same time guided by the voice of the One who does the freeing. Borrowing the language of our Gospel reading today, there will always be wolves in sheep’s clothing and there will always be unreliable hired hands. It’s hard to understand why this is true but we can certainly acknowledge its truth. The truth of wolves and hired hands are evidenced by our own regrets of what we have done and left undone just as much as the truth of wolves and hired hands are evidenced by flashier sinners. As a flock, we can acknowledge this truth about ourselves because of God’s covenant accomplished by Jesus, the Good Shepherd, through death on a cross and life from an empty tomb. So we can proclaim together, “Have no fear, little flock, for surely goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our lives, and we shall dwell in the house of the Lord our whole lives long.” [3]

Alleluia and amen.

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[1] Video excerpt from the movie 2012. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5uBrXLpt8Y

[2] 1 John 3:16

[3] Plural flourish of Psalm 23:6

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1 John 3:16-24 We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. 17 How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help? 18 Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action. 19 And by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before him 20 whenever our hearts condemn us; for God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. 21 Beloved, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have boldness before God; 22 and we receive from him whatever we ask, because we obey his commandments and do what pleases him. 23 And this is his commandment, that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us. 24 All who obey his commandments abide in him, and he abides in them. And by this we know that he abides in us, by the Spirit that he has given us.