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Shepherd

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PRESENTATION OUTLINE

I AM the Good Shepherd

  • Only I Am that is personal
  • Most intimate of all animal husbandry
  • Wonderful insight on His view of us
Photo by @notnixon

Jesus, our shepherd

  • I know the sheep
  • He knows we are utterly and completely spiritually dependent.
  • He has seen the stupid things we have done and the dumb thing we will do in the future
Photo by @notnixon

Dependent

  • Dependent in our understanding
  • Dependent in our area of self image
Photo by @notnixon

The Challenge

  • Admit the Fact
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Sheep are highly valued

  • Incredibly valuable
  • A shepherd's money isn't in bank
  • Shepherds future isn't in real estate
  • We are Jesus' treasure and his heart is bound up in us
Photo by @notnixon

Knowing and Treasuring

  • Jesus looks at us, KNOWS us, and still sees something so precious/wonderful that he became a lamb.
  • The Good news
Photo by @notnixon

He gives us what we need

  • Calls us by name and leads us out
Photo by @notnixon

Follow the Great Shepherd

  • Follow Comprehensively
  • Follow Unconditonally
  • Follow Personally
  • Obey Him existentially
  • Obey Joyfully
Photo by @notnixon

Challenge

  • Rest in Him
  • Find yourself

Untitled Slide

  • Death Be Not Proud - John Donne Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure - then, from thee much more must flow; And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones and soul's delivery. Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men, And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell; And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well, And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more. Death thou shalt die.
Death Be Not Proud - John Donne

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure - then, from thee much more must flow;
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more. Death thou shalt die.