The Loudest Voice Isn’t Always Your Shepherd

By Pastor John Erickson

During the COVID years, I noticed how often people had one particular voice they were listening to.

A podcast host. A commentator. A YouTube personality. Somebody who seemed to make sense of the uncertainty.

We had time on our hands, and we filled it with content. Before long, people were quoting those voices with the confidence we usually reserve for trusted friends.

Something deeper than information was being exchanged. People were being formed. Their fears, loyalties, and picture of the world were taking shape around the voice they returned to most often.

I had to ask a question that still matters: who is discipling us?

The difference shows up when danger comes

In John 10, Jesus calls himself the good shepherd. He contrasts his care with that of a hired hand who runs when a wolf appears.

The hired hand's relationship to the flock has limits. When care becomes costly, self-preservation wins. The sheep scatter.

Jesus' point is not that paid work is bad or that every human leader has the same motives. He is exposing the difference between using a flock and belonging to it in faithful care.

A voice can sound wonderfully confident when nothing is at stake for the speaker.

The question is what happens when caring for people requires sacrifice.

Will this leader tell the truth when it costs influence? Will they accept responsibility when something goes wrong? Are vulnerable people protected, or expected to absorb the damage so the platform can survive?

The character of a shepherd matters more than the impressiveness of the microphone.

Jesus knows the people he leads

Jesus says that he knows his sheep and they know him. He connects that knowledge with the relationship between himself and the Father.

That is an astonishing kind of closeness.

He does not describe us as a useful audience segment. We are not numbers that make a ministry look successful. He knows the people he leads.

Some of the voices we trust cannot possibly know us that way. They may offer valuable information. They may be skilled, sincere, and worth listening to in their area of knowledge.

But there is a limit to what a distant personality can carry.

When we ask someone to provide identity, ultimate security, and the direction of our soul, we are asking for more than a commentator or a pastor can give.

Jesus is the shepherd. The rest of us need to remember our place.

The cross reveals the kind of leader he is

The defining act of the good shepherd is laying down his life for the sheep.

Jesus does not merely ask us to trust a warm description of his intentions. His love takes the form of self-giving.

That is a very different model from leadership that constantly requires other people to sacrifice so the leader can remain important.

The cross exposes that reversal. Jesus' authority does not exist to feed his ego. He gives himself for those he knows and loves.

His death is voluntary, and in the same passage he speaks of taking his life up again. This is more than a tragic example of courage. It is the saving work of the Son sent by the Father.

He is worthy of a trust no other leader can demand.

Pastors are not exempt from the warning

It would be convenient for me to make this only about other kinds of influence. Political personalities. Online outrage. People with opinions I dislike.

But churches can revolve around personalities too.

A gifted leader develops a following. People begin to confuse that person's strength with the strength of Jesus. Then a failure or misuse of power shakes far more than confidence in one individual.

I need to say this clearly: if you put your ultimate hope in me, you are putting it in the wrong place.

I am human. I will make mistakes. That does not excuse harm or reduce the need for accountability. It makes both accountability and a clear understanding of pastoral limits essential.

My responsibility is to point people toward the true Shepherd, not train them to depend on my approval.

Notice what the voice is producing

A useful question is not only whether I agree with a speaker. It is what happens in me after I have listened.

Am I becoming more truthful, humble, patient, and attentive to others? Or am I becoming easier to frighten, quicker to despise people, and more certain that my anger is a virtue?

That is not a substitute for checking facts or understanding Scripture carefully. It is part of noticing how influence works.

Sometimes turning down a particular voice may be a deeply practical act of faith.

It creates space to hear Jesus through Scripture, prayer, worship, and a Christian community where people know us well enough to challenge us.

We need more than an endless stream of certainty. We need formation in the character of Christ.

Choose the shepherd whose love has been proved

Everybody listens to someone. Pretending we are free of influence usually makes us less aware of the influences already at work.

So pay attention to where you go when you are afraid. Notice whose words you repeat. Consider who has gained the power to define other people for you.

Then return to John 10.

The good shepherd knows his sheep. He stays when care becomes costly. He gives his life.

The loudest voice may have a compelling explanation for everything. It may know exactly how to keep you watching.

Jesus has shown you something better than a reason to keep listening.

He has shown you why he is worth following.