“My Sheep Listen to My Voice”
John 10:27
Imagine this scene.
It is early in the morning.
A flock of sheep is moving through the Neckar Valley. On one side is the river, on the other a country road. The night has been cold, and a thick mist lies over the meadows and the river.
You can hardly see a few metres ahead.
The shepherd knows the way. The sheep follow him.
Everything is quiet.
Until suddenly, a large truck drives past.
The driver sounds his powerful horn.
A tremendous noise!
The sheep are frightened.
And suddenly something happens that could become deadly:
Panic.
They stop thinking.
They stop looking at their shepherd.
They simply run.
And unfortunately, they run in the wrong direction.
Straight toward the Neckar.
The mist hides the river. They cannot see the steep bank. They cannot see the freezing water or the strong current.
All they know is:
“Get away from here!”
The shepherd immediately sees the danger.
He calls out:
“Stop! Stay where you are!”
And then something remarkable happens.
The sheep stop.
Why?
Not because the mist has disappeared.
Not because the danger is suddenly gone.
But because they recognize the voice of their shepherd.
They know that voice.
They have heard it again and again.
They know:
“That is our shepherd.”
And suddenly his voice is stronger than their fear.
The panic loses its power.
Because something much deeper is there:
Trust.
The shepherd also told a sad story.
A friend had asked him to take five of his sheep into the flock. But those five sheep did not know the shepherd. They did not recognize his voice.
And when the danger came, they kept running.
They ran into the Neckar and drowned.
That story is deeply moving.
Those five sheep were not worse than the others.
They were not deliberately disobedient.
They simply had never become familiar with the shepherd’s voice.
And that makes Jesus’ words especially meaningful. At John 10:27, he said:
“My sheep listen to my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.”
Jesus did not simply say:
“My sheep know the rules.”
He said:
“My sheep listen to my voice.”
That is much more personal.
It is not just about knowing something about our Shepherd.
It is about knowing his voice.
Now think about our own life.
We may never stand in the mist beside the Neckar with a flock of sheep.
But we know what it is like when life suddenly becomes very loud.
A bad report.
A disappointment.
A conflict.
A family problem.
A decision that overwhelms us.
Someone hurts us.
We feel treated unfairly.
Or we become afraid of what tomorrow may bring.
And something similar can happen to us.
Fear becomes loud.
Disappointment becomes loud.
Our own thoughts become loud.
Our heart may say:
“Run away.”
“You can’t do this.”
“There’s no point.”
“You’re alone.”
“No one understands you.”
“Why would Jehovah help you?”
If we listen only to those voices, we can easily start moving in a direction that takes us farther and farther from our Shepherd.
Maybe not all at once.
Just little by little.
We pray a little less.
We read a little less.
We trust a little less.
We have a little less connection with the congregation.
And one day we realize:
“I have come a long way.”
Not because we intended to.
But because fear became louder than the Shepherd’s voice.
So we need to ask ourselves:
Would we recognize Jehovah’s voice if everything around us suddenly became loud?
The Shepherd will not always remove the mist.
He will not prevent every “truck horn” from sounding in our life.
We will experience problems.
We will become frightened.
We will sometimes be afraid.
But perhaps Jehovah does something far more valuable:
He helps us become familiar with his voice.
Long before the crisis comes.
Think about a little lamb.
The shepherd explained that during the first week of a lamb’s life, he carries it in his arms as often as possible. While talking to it, the lamb becomes familiar with his voice.
It learns:
“That voice belongs to someone who cares for me. I am safe with him.”
A bond develops.
And that is a beautiful picture of our relationship with Jehovah.
We do not learn his voice only when we are in the middle of a crisis.
We learn it beforehand.
When we read his Word every day.
When we pray.
When we think deeply about his thoughts.
When we experience how he carries us through difficult times.
When we meet together with our brothers and sisters.
Each time, we are, in a sense, hearing our Shepherd’s voice.
And each time, our bond with him grows stronger.
Perhaps one day our life will become misty.
We cannot see clearly.
We do not know what will happen next.
We cannot see the danger.
But then we hear a familiar voice.
Maybe through a Bible verse.
Maybe through a thought at a meeting.
Maybe through a brother or sister.
Maybe through a sentence we have read a hundred times, but suddenly it reaches our heart in a completely different way.
And we realize:
“That is the voice of my Shepherd.”
We may not know what lies beyond the mist.
But we know who is leading us.
And perhaps the most moving thought of all is this:
The sheep did not simply hear the shepherd’s voice.
The shepherd knew his sheep.
Jesus said:
“My sheep listen to my voice, and I know them.”
Jehovah knows us.
Not just our name.
Not just what others can see.
He knows our thoughts.
Our fears.
Our disappointments.
Our struggles.
He knows when we appear strong even though we are exhausted inside.
He knows when we smile even though we feel like crying.
And that is why Jesus’ words are so comforting.
He did not simply say:
“My sheep know me.”
He said:
“I know them.”
Then comes another beautiful thought:
“And they follow me.”
That may be the key.
The sheep did not say:
“We trust the shepherd,”
and then run in the opposite direction.
They heard his voice.
They recognized it.
And they followed him.
Because trust is not shown only by what we say.
Trust is shown by where we go when we are afraid.
Maybe one day we will find ourselves at our own personal “Neckar.”
There is mist ahead.
We do not know what is coming.
Behind us is panic.
And somewhere in the mist we hear the voice of our Shepherd:
“Stay where you are.”
“Trust me.”
“Follow me.”
What will we do?
Maybe we still will not see the river.
Maybe we will not know the solution.
Maybe the fear will still be there.
But we can do something:
We can follow the voice we have spent our life learning to recognize.
So perhaps we should not ask only:
“Do I hear Jehovah’s voice?”
But:
“Do I know his voice well enough to recognize it when my life becomes loud?”
Because one day we may not be able to see everything clearly.
At that moment, we do not need a Shepherd who explains everything.
We need a Shepherd whose voice we know.
The story at the Neckar ended tragically for five sheep that did not know the shepherd’s voice.
But our story does not have to end that way.
We can choose today to become even more familiar with that voice.
We can listen.
We can trust.
We can follow.
And then the words of John 10:27 can become a thought that stays in our heart for a lifetime:
“My sheep listen to my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.”
Maybe the mist will come again.
Maybe life will become loud again.
Maybe we will become frightened.
But when we hear the voice of our Shepherd, we can say deep inside:
“I know that voice.”
“That is my Shepherd.”
“He is here.”
“I do not have to run away.”
And perhaps that is the difference between a sheep that blindly runs away and one that is saved:
It has learned to recognize the voice of its Shepherd.
So may we never stop listening.
Because one day, that voice may be
life-saving.