The Third Sunday of Easter - John 10:1-10 - The Rev. Colette Hammesfahr

 

April 26, 2026 - John 10:1-10

Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice.” In baptism we say that we belong to Christ. We are known by him, called by him, and that over time we learn to recognize his voice. That may sound like something a little mysterious but it’s a little closer to an experience that you may have had.

There was a preschool teacher who noticed something interesting about her class. At the end of the day, it was always very chaotic at pickup time. The children were playing. Toys were scattered everywhere. Backpacks were being zipped and unzipped. Parents were walking in and out of the classroom, stopping to talk to one another in between. She said the room was noisy, busy, and quite frankly, a little overwhelming.

In the middle of this chaos, the teacher began to notice something. A parent would walk in and standing in the doorway they would say their child’s name in a normal voice. They wouldn’t shout or wave their arms wildly to get their attention. They would simply say their child’s name. Somehow, across the room, amidst the chaos, their child would hear their name. They would stop what they were doing, look up, and something in their mind would register and say, “That’s my mom…that’s my dad,” and they would come running to the door.

What the teacher thought was interesting is that there were much louder voices in the room. There were many other sounds. There were more exciting things happening, yet the child knew that voice. It wasn’t because the voice was the loudest or the strongest in the room. It was because it was the most familiar. It was a voice that was trusted. It was a voice that spoke to them every day, all along.

 “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” Knowing Jesus’ voice is not something that happens all at once. It’s something that’s learned over time. Just like the children in the classroom didn’t learn the voice of their parents in just one moment. The recognition of their voice was formed over time through relationships, trust, and through hearing the voices day after day.

This is what baptism begins. In baptism, a name is spoken. Today, Teddy’s name will be spoken. But more importantly, we remember that God already knows his name. God has already been speaking it, already been calling it, and already been drawing Teddy into relationship. Today is not the beginning of God’s love for Teddy. It is the beginning of a life lived in response to it.  

All of our readings today are grounded in what it means to live out our baptism.

In our reading from Acts, we get a glimpse of the first baptized community. After their baptism the community gave up everything they had and they devoted their lives to teaching, being in fellowship with one another, praying together and then breaking bread together. Their baptism didn’t end with the water…it was with the water that they began a new way of life.  

Peter reminds us that baptism isn’t about comfort, it’s about identity. Even when we go astray like sheep, we return to the shepherd, “the guardian of our souls.” When we go astray (not if, because we will) the shepherd keeps calling us.   

John reminds us that in our baptism we enter through Christ, we learn to hear his voice, and we are gathered into his flock. It’s entering into a relationship where we are known, called, and led.

In those days, the shepherds would gather their flocks together at night, into one central area. Each night they would take turns, one staying up to watch the flocks, to protect them from wolves and thieves. In the morning, each shepherd would get up and call their sheep. The sheep would go directly to their shepherd, the one waiting for them and calling for them. The sheep knew who their shepherd was.

The Psalm describes what it feels like to live a life of trust. It doesn’t deny danger, but it proclaims Christ’s presence. The psalmist wrote, “Even in the valley, you are with me.”

That may be one of the most important things to say about baptism. Baptism doesn’t remove us from the chaos of life. It doesn’t make the world quieter. It doesn’t silence all the other voices. The classroom is still noisy, and the world is full of competing voices. Some of those voices are loud, some persuasive, and some are constant. They try to tell us who we are, what we are worth, and what matters most. If we’re honest, it’s hard to tell the voices apart. Some voices tell us, “We are not enough. We are defined by our failures. We have to prove ourselves.” Those voices can be very convincing.

The voice of the shepherd is different. It may not always be the loudest voice we can hear but it’s the voice that speaks the truth. It’s the voice that says, “You are mine. You are loved. You are not alone.” Over time, we learn to recognize it. But that doesn’t happen by accident. The way we recognize it is in the way we live. We learn it when we place ourselves in the places where that voice is spoken – in prayer, in scripture, in worship, in community.

That’s what we see happening in the Acts of the Apostles. Those early Christians didn’t just believe something – they ordered their lives around it. In doing that, they created a life where the voice of Christ could be heard more clearly. And that is what we are called to do. We are called to keep showing up. To keep gathering even when life is busy. To keep praying even when we may not have the words. To keep listening, even when the other voices feel louder. To shape our lives so we begin to recognize Christ’s voice more and more.

And we are called to be that voice for one another. Because there are moments when someone else cannot hear it clearly. It’s in those moments when our voice needs to be the voice that says, “You are not alone. You are loved. You belong to Christ.” This is what it means to live out your baptism.

Today, Teddy is baptized. His name is spoken in this place. Today he will be marked as Christ’s own forever. From this day forward his life, like all of ours, will be a life of learning to recognize that voice.

Maybe it’s as simple as that classroom filled with children. A room full of noises and voices. A child who hears their name. Not because it’s the loudest voice but because it’s the one they know. It’s the one they trust. The one that has been speaking to them all along. In baptism we are given a voice to follow and a name that will never be forgotten. Over time, by grace, we learn to listen, and to come running. Amen.