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Divine Savior Church-West Palm Beach
What is Jesus doing in your life? Often in our darkest moments, it can feel like God is distant from us. We need answers and we keep uncovering questions. If you need answers from God, this podcast is for you. Join Pastor Jonny Lehmann as he brings you a weekly 15-20 minute devotion designed to bring the always-relevant truths of the Bible to life as you experience the world around you. Pastor Jonny serves at Divine Savior Church in West Palm Beach, Florida, USA.
Divine Savior Church-West Palm Beach
Shine Like Stars | A High Call to a Lowly Life (Philippians 2:1-11)
In this world, it seems that it is important to show everyone who you are, what you have accomplished, what you deserve. Someone has to speak up for you, and it might have to be you! If you aren’t watching out for yourself, who is going to? But the greatest possible contradiction to this is the heart and core of the Bible. We must humble ourselves if we are to be exalted. Put the interests of others before ours? But if we do that, then who will take care of us? Who? Jesus will. The very one who showed us what it means to humble Himself for our good. The One who gave us life by doing so. So, let’s imitate Him. Let’s learn what a truly great life is – it begins with making ourselves lowly.
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The story I’m about to share with you is one I can’t shake from my psyche. I came across an article about Richard Wurmbrand, a Romanian Lutheran pastor who endured communist oppression. The unspeakable torture he went through because of his faith will leave you teary-eyed, but there was one episode in his story that stuns me to no end. One particular day in prison, Wurmbrand, after being savagely beaten, was dragged into a dark room where his captors mocked him. One of his tormentors, noticing the blood on Wurmbrand’s face, asked him, “Why do you not curse your God?” Wurmbrand, broken and bruised, answered, “I cannot curse the One who gave His life for me.” And then he prayed for the man who had caused him so much pain. Looking back at his experience later on in his life, he reflected, “I did not ask God to deliver me from this pain. I simply asked Him to help me endure, that I might be faithful to Him in the darkest hours. I wanted to learn from Jesus—what it meant to serve, even as He served.” This radical servanthood, stunning self-sacrifice, the emptying of one’s ambitions to serve the Shepherd, this is the life the Lord in his grace has won for you: A joyful life defined by sheer humility.
This has never been a life that comes naturally to us. Self-abasement is the ultimate cardinal crime in our culture. In our sinful nature. Who wants to be a nobody? Who wants to be considered nothing? And yet, that’s the life we long for as Christians! How can this be? Let’s let the Apostle Paul show us! Here in Philippians 2, we find one of the most breathtaking pictures of Jesus’ humility in all of Scripture. Paul writes that Jesus “made himself nothing.” That’s not just a theological truth—it’s a spiritual earthquake. The King of the universe stepped down from heaven, took on the form of a slave, and became obedient to death. Why? You. And this Sunday, it just so happens to be both Good Shepherd Sunday and Mother’s Day. That’s no accident. Because when you take Philippians 2 and pair it with the words of Jesus in John 10—“I am the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep”—you get a clearer glimpse into the heart of God than most people dare to imagine. Think about it: Jesus never walks around saying, “I am the King. Look at me!” Sure Pontius Pilate insinuates it, and Jesus affirms it in His own way—but Jesus paints a different picture of His rule. He doesn’t call himself King. He calls himself Shepherd. And that’s stunning.
Of all the ways Jesus could have described His authority, He chose the imagery of a shepherd. Back then, shepherds weren’t exactly admired. They were on the societal outskirts. Disregarded, yet very needed. Society depended on them! And their work was complex! Their work was critical for food, for clothing, for the entire agricultural infrastructure. But no one was giving out awards to shepherds. They were unrecognized, unseen. And the sheep they cared for? They certainly didn’t appreciate them. A shepherd had a hard, dirty, dangerous job—fending off wolves, keeping sheep from disease, guiding them to good pasture without destroying the land. And the sheep? They didn’t say thank you. Not only that, they could make life miserable for the shepherd! Do you know the depth perception of a sheep only reaches the very end of their noses? Sheep have amazing peripheral vision. They can see the horizontal extremely well, but they cannot look ahead. Seriously, go on YouTube (not right now 🙂) but this afternoon, and you’ll find videos of sheep just walking into canals, flipping over on their backs, or tumbling off cliffs like, “What were you thinking?” And the Bible says, That’s you. That’s me. And it’s such a fitting description!
We are sheep—stubborn, shortsighted, horizontal-focused, and often oblivious to danger. We think we know better than God. With our tiny little life vision, thinking we know the way better, we barrel into situations and wonder why our hearts feel bruised. And yet—God still loves us. This is where the connection to parenting—and especially motherhood—comes alive. Being a parent is dirty work. It’s sacrificial. And it often goes unseen. That’s why social media is filled with parenting victories. We want recognition. We want to be told we’re doing a good job. You don’t often see posts like, “This is the dirtiest blow-out diaper experience I’ve had exploded on me yet!” but you’ll see, “Look! My kid made the honor roll!” And it’s not just that the world doesn’t recognize all a parent does. I’ve only been a parent for seven years, but even now, what hurts the most is when your child doesn’t see it. When they’re kicking and screaming while you’re doing something for their good. And you love them. Not because you get something out of it. Not to feel emotionally fulfilled. You love them because that’s what love does. You love them even though they may never appreciate what you’re doing. That gives you a glimpse into the Father’s love for you.
You and me, like sheep, wander. We mess up. We get stuck in the mud or wander off cliffs. And God, your Shepherd, doesn’t say, “Enough! You’re cut off.” No. He runs after you. He lifts you up. That’s why in my office, I keep pictures of a lamb stuck in the mud and Jesus running after it. Another one of a sheep dangling off a cliff, and Jesus risking everything to grab it. That’s who He is. He is the Good Shepherd. And He will never stop loving you. No matter how messy your life is, no matter what kind of trap you’ve gotten yourself into, no matter how far you’ve run, no matter how dirty you are—He is coming after you without any wonder of the cost. And He doesn’t hesitate for a second. Why? Because, as Philippians 2 says, “He made Himself nothing.” He gave up the glory of heaven so that you could be brought home. And that speaks to a deep longing in every one of us.
Mother’s Day doesn’t hit the same for everyone. Maybe your relationship with your mom is amazing. Maybe it’s complicated. Maybe it’s marked by grief or absence or unfulfilled dreams of being a mother. But whether this day brings warmth or pain, it surfaces a truth hidden deep in the corners of our souls: We have this intense craving to be seen. To be known. To be loved unconditionally. To be held. Our culture screams, “Be independent! Take control of your life!” But let’s be real. Control is an illusion. We don’t even control our own heartbeats. What we really want isn’t control. It’s security. It’s dependence. Not in a lazy way, but in a holy way. A way that says, “I don’t have to have it all figured out, because I have a Shepherd who sees more than I ever could.” And He does.
He’s the King of love. Your Shepherd. Your Father in heaven. The Holy Spirit at work within you. The Triune God who is not only guiding your steps, but leading you and others to the high ground of heaven. That’s the shock of John 10. Jesus says, “I know my sheep. I call them by name.” Shepherds didn’t do that. Sheep weren’t pets. They were commodities. You don’t name your dinner, or your t-shirts. But not Jesus. He doesn’t see you as a number or a face in the crowd. He calls you by name. He went to the cross for you. He knows your story, your scars, your secrets—and He claims you as His. That name He gives you? It’s not just a sound, not mere syllables. It’s your identity.
We live in a world obsessed with identity. And culture keeps telling you to pick one on the identity grid: your sexuality, your ethnicity, your job title. “That’s who you are.” But those labels will never satisfy. Because the only identity that gives you lasting joy, the only identity that covers all who you are is the one that comes from Jesus. It’s the identity of baptism—the declaration that “I am not my own. I belong to Christ.” Your life, your worth, your future—none of it is floating in uncertainty. You are Jesus’ everything—not because of what you do, but because of what He’s done for you. Even when your heart wrestles with His Word, the seasons of questioning and doubt—even when you don’t feel like trusting—He still leads. Why? Because He’s not just any shepherd. He’s the Good Shepherd. He’s the Shepherd who laid down His life for you, as he laid his hands down on the cross. He’s the Shepherd who became nothing for you—not just theoretically, but historically, tangibly, bloodily, and beautifully. He gave up heaven’s glory for a feeding trough and a criminal’s cross. For you.
He's the Good Shepherd who emptied, who became nothing for a nothing nobody like me. But He doesn't see you as a nothing nobody. He considers you to be so deeply precious to Him. Even when we kick, and scream, and wander, and try to run away, He comes after us again, and again, and again. Because only in Him do you experience love like you've always longed for, always hoped for, dared to believe is true. There is such a thing as love that's unconditional, love that is relentless, love that never ever gets tired, or impatient, or done. And there's only one person who can love you like that, to give you an identity, to give you hope, to give you care, and compassion, and open access to the heart of your Father in Heaven who loves you more than you could ever know. And that leads us to look at this text in Philippians 2 and say, you know what? I want to become nothing. Can you imagine seeing that on social media? Not, look at me. I'm something. Look at my parenting. Look at what I'm doing. Give me value. Give me affirmation. Give me respect. Instead to say, “I’ll have none of that! I don't need it! I want to be nothing! Why? So that Christ is all in all. He is the driving force of my life.” All because the Shepherd chose to become the sheep.
Why would He have anything to do with us? Why would He talk with us? Why would He give us His Word? Why would He have anything to do with sheep like us? But we're everything to Him, because paradoxically, He's the shepherd who became a sheep. He's the one who became the Lamb of God to take away the sin of the world. That's Him. That's how much He identifies with you. Totally human, and totally God. Hence, I am the good shepherd. Yahweh, I am the God of all. I am the God of the nothing, of the nobody, because I love you. So, in this beautiful, counterintuitive way, we, too, by grace, have become nothing. The world looks at us and says, “Oh, you just keep serving people. You don’t assert your will. You don’t try to prove your value, and you're willing to do the dirtiest things. You're willing to enter relationships untransactionally, to just simply love, even though you will probably get nothing in return. In fact, it might even bring hurt, loss, and pain to you. You're willing to do that?” Yep. How? Why? Jesus. And so, we as a flock of God, we follow Jesus, and we search for sheep along that path, stuck in the thicket, of their own selfish ambition, the thicket of pain and suffering, the thicket of spiritual blindness, and we reach out to them, and we say, “Shepherd, Shepherd!” Of course, he already knows they’re there. But in his grace, he allows us mere sheep to be a part of the rescue mission, to share in this joy of being named by God himself. All this because our Jesus loves us so.
It’s why we started an intentional compassion ministry through CarePortal. Not for the aim of gaining members. Not for outside recognition. But simply to be sheep smelling like their Shepherd. Reminds me of something author Paul David Tripp once wrote, “You are most humble and gentle when you think that the person you are ministering to is more like you than unlike you.” By God’s grace, he has placed us in his flock, and we, as a family brought together by the Good Shepherd himself, strive “to consider others better than (ourselves), not only looking to (our) interests but the interests of others.” And in this way, collectively, together, we have the same attitude, the same mindset, the same joy as our dear Jesus. Our Good Shepherd and our King before whom we will bow down, our dear Master, as we hear the countless millions proclaiming him as he truly is the Lord of all, and we will join the theme: “To God and to the Lamb I will sing, I will sing.” And then he will lift you up with his own hands, hug you like the prodigal’s father, and on his shoulders gently laid, he will joyfully bring you home. Dear Christian, there’s nothing like being a servant-sheep in the flock of Jesus! Amen.