Truly, truly, I say to you, he who does not enter the sheepfold by the door but climbs in by another way, that man is a thief and a robber. But he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. To him the gatekeeper opens. The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. ... I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep. - John 10:1-3, 14-15

On Friday, I had the opportunity to preach in chapel at the school my children attend. I used the homily to reflect a bit on the theme of a special class I have taught with a colleague this semester, on walking in literature and philosophy. I think the text turned out pretty well, so I am sharing it here. The audience ranged from kindergarteners to high school seniors, so the text represents a delicate balancing act different from my usual work.

How fast does God move? It's a question that we all might like to have answered. What is his pace? We might tend to think that because God is powerful and always present with us, that he must move very fast. But actually, we do best to recognize that God moves at a walking pace. Jesus Christ took on our flesh and became man, not in our modern times where we race about in cars at high speed, but in the ancient world, where he mostly traveled by foot or other, comparatively slow means of travel: a donkey, a sailboat. Three miles an hour is the average walking pace of an adult person. So we can truly say, with the Japanese theologian Kosuke Koyama, that he is a "three mile an hour God."

In his essay of that title, Koyama points out that God is very patient with us as he teaches us what we have to learn from him. When he wanted to teach the Israelites a lesson about trust in Him, he was content to take forty years to do it, forty years of walking—three miles an hour—in the wilderness. Similarly, throughout the Gospels we see Jesus presenting his followers with teachings that they find very hard to puzzle out, parables. He is not anxious to rush them to the conclusion, but walks with them slowly to uncover his message. Is that because he just wants to drag things out? No. It's because we are slow to learn, and he chooses to move at our pace. Koyama says: "God walks 'slowly' because he is love." He is not in a hurry to rush us to salvation, but moves deliberately, at the speed of two friends walking together.

It is in light of this discussion of the pace of love that I want to discuss our passage today from the Gospel of John. Here, Jesus proclaims himself "the good shepherd." But it is far from clear to the disciples what he means—Jesus, aren't you a carpenter by trade? What is this about shepherds and sheep? The full chapter is actually quite repetitive, with Jesus explaining the metaphor over and over again in different ways. You can almost see Jesus thinking, like I have thought as a teacher, like maybe some of your teachers have thought: "okay, let me try it again another way."

We should note two main aspects to Jesus' proclamation of himself as the good shepherd. First, the good shepherd possesses an intimate knowledge of the sheep. He comes into their pen by the right way, the way the sheep expect. Livestock like their routines, much like us human beings. They quickly learn where to expect feeding, and who they can trust. When Jesus says the good shepherd enters by the door, he is describing himself as one who has paid close attention to the needs of the sheep. He does not disrupt or unsettle them just because; he does not try to excite them; he does not grow impatient with them. He knows them well, face to face, and so he can provide for them peacefully; he can "lead them by still waters."

Even more, In proclaiming himself the Good Shepherd, Christ says "I know my own and my own know me," as well as he and the Father know one another. Here is an incredible claim. Christ and his Father God know each other as well as you know yourself, since they are two persons of the same Trinity. When we are Christ's own, not only does he know every desire of our hearts, but in some way, Jesus promises, we know him just as closely. Jesus is not saying that we learn all the facts about him automatically when we become Christians. We still have much to learn. But when we become his sheep, we gain an unspoken knowledge of him, the knowledge of love, the way that you know somewhere in yourself what your mom's facial expression will be when you tell her a silly joke. The relationship between the good shepherd and the sheep is personal, a bond of love, not just a set of facts.

Second, the good shepherd sacrifices himself for his sheep. He is not the owner of the flock but its caretaker. Nobody would die for a mere possession; we would die for someone or something we love, for which we have responsibility. And so when Jesus calls himself the good shepherd, he promises us that he is dedicated to our care, personally. He will slow down to our pace, will even allow himself to be brought to a complete halt—nailed down—for our sakes.

Images of the Good Shepherd are among some of the first works of Christian art, found in the Roman Catacombs, when Christians were still being persecuted by the imperial powers. In part, this is because such images had plausible deniability with the persecutors. "No, that's not a Christian symbol, just a nice picture of a shepherd boy." But one must also imagine how those persecuted believers needed to believe that they had a Good Shepherd looking out for them.

We also need to remember that Jesus is the Good Shepherd, although for somewhat different reasons. We live in a hasty and impersonal culture. We move much faster than three miles an hour, both in the physical world and in our attitude to learning our Christian faith. We want answers about Jesus without wandering in the wilderness. We want something that will resolve our uncertainty, now. We want the power of Jesus' message without proximity to the messenger. We turn to computer screens when we need to receive the Word of faith as the disciples received it, in the loving presence of a person, the one who enters by the door of relationship. We listen to recorded audio from distant voices when we need to walk together with another believer, moving at the pace of love.

Students, you may sometimes feel that the journey of your education takes a long time. You may sit through sermons—or chapel talks—and feel that time has absolutely come to a halt. And look, I'm not claiming that something is necessarily Christlike because it's boring. But I do want to encourage you here: do not buy our culture's story that it is always better to go faster. Do not buy the idea that you can substitute mere Christian information for the pastoral presence of a human being. Even in our inevitable failures and inadequacies, your teachers, your pastors, your parents, anyone who walks with you at three miles an hour is an image to you of the Good Shepherd. Slow down, and seek him in their halting presence. Only when you yourself move at the "speed of love," at the pace of the Good Shepherd, can you come to understand what it means for "goodness and mercy to follow [you] all the days of your life," so that you can "dwell in the house of the Lord forever."