Sermon for Sunday, April 26, 2026 || Easter 4A || John 10:1-10

This sermon is about comfort zones, and specifically about how Jesus ejects us from our comfort zones. I was toying with the idea of making you all get up and sit in different seats, but I decided not to afflict you that much. Instead, I’m going to afflict you with another one of my lessons in ancient Greek. And we’ll start with today’s Gospel reading.

Jesus begins his discussion with something as close to a parable as the Gospel according to John gets. In the other accounts of the Gospel, Jesus often speaks in parables, but not in John. Instead, in John’s Gospel, Jesus himself is the parable of God — the way God is made known in the world (John 1:18). Here in chapter 10, Jesus speaks in a “figure of speech” about shepherding and sheep and wolves and bandits. Jesus identifies himself as the Good Shepherd who calls his sheep by name and leads them out of the sheepfold. Then Jesus says, “When [the shepherd] has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice.”

The word for “has brought out” is one of my favorite Greek words: ekballo. This is a fairly prevalent verb in the Gospel according to John and in the other accounts, as well. In the Matthew, Mark, and Luke, when Jesus casts out demons, he ekballo-s them. In John 2, when Jesus drives out the moneychangers and animal sellers from the temple, he ekballo-s them. The man born blind is ekballo-ed from the synagogue at the end of chapter 9. And finally, in chapter 12, Jesus mentions that the “ruler of this world” (that is, Satan) will be ekballo-ed from it.

In each of these cases, the connotation of ekballo is to drive out or cast out or throw out. But in John 10, according to our translation, the shepherd simply “brings” his sheep out. While Greek words definitely have ranges of meaning, there is absolutely no reason for such a weak translation here when everywhere else in the Gospel, the word ekballo isn’t “bring out,” but “drive out.” If I were translating this passage, I would say, “When the shepherd has driven out all his own, he goes ahead of them…” Here’s why.

The first character Jesus introduces in Chapter 10 is a thief and a bandit. This person climbs into the sheepfold rather than entering through the gate. The thief comes only to “steal and kill and destroy.” Furthermore, outside the sheepfold there are wolves waiting to snatch up the sheep and scatter them. Hired hands are no help because they run away when they see the wolves coming. With thieves, bandits, and wolves roaming outside the sheepfold, leaving the fold sounds frightening and dangerous.

In contrast, the sheepfold is safe and secure — shepherds bring their flocks to these enclosures at night for safety. But the sheep can’t live their whole lives in the sheepfold, no matter how safe and secure they may feel. They must go out into the world beyond the gate to graze for food. So the shepherd ekballo-s them. The shepherd drives the sheep out of the fold so they can eat and drink, as our psalm says this morning, in the green pastures and by the still waters.

The sheepfold is a safe place, but everything outside the sheepfold is dangerous. Who would not want to stay in the fold? Being brought out into the world can feel like being driven out. The modern term for the proverbial sheepfold is “comfort zone.” When we are thrust into a new and strange situation, we might say that we straying outside our comfort zone. And who doesn’t want to remain comfortable all the time? If it were up to me, I would sit on my couch wearing sweatpants and playing video games all day long.

Or at least I think I would. But that’s a trap.

You know what? After a couple hours, I start getting restless. I start getting bored. I start getting a headache. And I realize that, while sitting on my couch playing video games is a great diversion now and again, it certainly isn’t living life in all its abundance.

Every time I realize this, I remember that comfort zones feel safe for a particular reason. There’s no challenge, no provocation, no dissonance. And without these things, there’s no growth or forward movement. Music without dissonance would be supremely uninteresting. And life without embracing opportunities for growth could never be called abundant.

Those of us who are insulated from the bulk of hardship and oppression tend to build the walls of our sheepfolds ever higher. We have the choice to engage with or isolate from the unjust systems of this world that make life extra hard for some people. We can sit on our couches in our sweatpants without much thought for those whose lives have never had the privilege of a comfort zone.

And that’s why we need to translate that special Greek word – ekballo – as “drive out.” The shepherd needs to use his rod and staff to hook us by the necks and drag us, kicking and screaming, from our comfortable complacency. We most likely won’t leave the sheepfold under our own power because the sheepfold is where we feel safest. But it’s not where the food is. The sheepfold is the locker room. The game is played on the field.

There’s an old saying that Jesus comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable. Jesus does both of these actions from a place of love. He knows human nature. He knows we won’t choose on our own a path of greater difficulty, even if he promises to walk it with us. So he drives us out.

But while Jesus is pushing and prodding me, while he’s hooking me by the neck with his shepherd’s crook, while he’s driving me out, he’s also doing something else. Jesus is calling my name. Jesus is calling your name. Jesus is calling all of our names. He calls our names and we hear his voice and we know we’ve been in the sheepfold far too long. By calling our names, Jesus brings us deeper into relationship with him. By calling our names, Jesus tells us he knows us, knows our struggles, knows we need a swift kick in the trousers to prompt us to act in the world on his behalf.

When we listen for Jesus calling our names, we feel his hands continually driving us forth from our sheepfolds, from our comfort zones. We embrace his promise to give us life and given it abundantly. This abundance of life is made possible by the intimate relationship Jesus has founded with us by knowing our names. When we venture out of our sheepfolds into the frightening, dangerous world, we know that Jesus, our Good Shepherd, guides us with his voice. Thanks be to God that Jesus will continue to drive us out of our comfortable folds, so we can continue to do God’s work in the world.

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Banner image: Photo by Taylor Brandon on Unsplash.