I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. John 10:14-16

I was happy as a Roman Catholic. I loved going to church every Sunday which was unusual for most teenagers going through the so-called rebellious phase. I never had any problems with the church. It was the place where I hung out with my friends. I was an altar boy then. There were about forty of us. We had a blast together. I was born in a country where Christianity was then a small and insignificant minority. Our faith united our small community of mixed races. It gave us our ethnic identity. I was completely happy being a Roman Catholic. Then a friend invited me to his Anglican Church. My mother told me that it wasn’t such a bad church. They were almost Catholic and consequently, I was given the permission to visit it. When I walked into the sanctuary, I was grasped with a strange sensation. It felt like I returned to a home that I never knew I had. It wasn’t really the church per se. The people were friendly enough but I was too timid to care about such things. Something was awakened deep within my soul. I felt something that I did not know existed.
I went back the following week. Eventually I started attending two churches every Sunday. I went to mass at the Roman Catholic then I rushed over to the Anglican. The former was part of my cultural identity. The latter drew me because of a mystery. I did not understand it initially. Thankfully, I met someone who helped me discover what was happening to me.

Everyone called the Anglican priest “Pastor Joe”. I did not know then that this meant the church was a low church. This term was meaningless to me then. The church had people from all sorts of backgrounds. A lot of them were from Buddhist families. I was one of the few Roman Catholics there. Pastor Joe was a strict man especially with the younger people. He was formerly a school teacher. Those who are familiar with the British school system would know what I mean when I say that he was a discipline master. This was the teacher to be feared. Nevertheless, in church, we did not fear, but deeply respected him. Many times, we would drop in on him the evenings just to chat with him, not realizing that we were invading his privacy. We were self-centered teenagers then. His wife definitely has her sainthood guaranteed. She welcomed us always. He would receive us on the porch of the parsonage and chat with us. I don’t remember much about his sermons nor his numerous bible studies. I remember the time we spent on his porch. There was one thing he always made very clear to us. He told us that he wasn’t our shepherd ultimately. He was a mere hireling. “All of us are dispensable so don’t confuse me with someone who is indispensable.” A few months later, the diocese transferred him to another church and not long after that, he passed away. He was about my present age when I met him. He seemed ancient then. Now, I think that he was quite young.

In one of our evenings chats, I shared with him about my desire to become a priest. I explained that it was something persistent in my heart. He told me that I was just being overtly religious. It is easy to be confused in these matters. It was definitely not what I expected to hear. I wanted him to sign me up for the seminary or at least speak to the bishop and make sure that I was on my way to ordination. Instead, I heard a “No”. Strangely, I wasn’t crushed. I was disappointed though. Then a few days later, he called me into his office. The deacon was present too. He said that he thought about what I said. He prayed and reflected on it and said maybe in the distant future I might be called to the priesthood. However, it is something that would happen naturally. He told me not to pursue it intentionally. He told me that if it is from God, I will not be able to escape it. For the time being, he advised me to live my life; to study and work and always listen to the voice of the Shepherd wherever I found myself. After all, he added, the primary task of a priest is help people discern the voice of the true Shepherd in the place and the circumstances in which people find themselves. If I am not able to recognize His voice in the everyday situation, then most likely I don’t have the vocation to be a priest. This was Joe’s final advice.

In a way, it was still a “No” but a “Yes” attached to it. Along the years, I realized that the voice of the Shepherd comes with both “No” and “Yes”. Most of the time, I want the Good Shepherd to say exactly what I want to hear. However, our Shepherd is not our servant. He is our Lord. He wants us to guide us in order to bring us to green pastures. A hireling might tell us what we want to hear because he doesn’t care where we end up.

I received Pastor Joe’s words. Mainly because they were not his words but the voice of the Shepherd speaking to my soul. This man was perhaps the first one who helped me understand this. God speaks to us through his servants who are willing to allow God’s love shine through them. He uses people who avail themselves to be God’s voice in people’s lives. Now that I heard God’s voice, I knew how to recognize it. I went into the world, I studied and worked. I knew that regardless of the circumstances and situation, the voice of the Good Shepherd can always be heard. In the process, I discovered another valuable lesson. He chooses to speak to us according to His own criteria. We cannot limit ourselves to hear His voice from one source. We have to be open and willing to hear His voice from even the most unlikely places. One thing I realized that it always came from Love. This was the common foundation. I always heard His voice come a place of genuine love.

It is the voice of the Good Shepherd that gives us the strength and conviction to persevere where we are. Perhaps, Pastor Joe listened to the Shepherd’s voice when he spent the evenings chatting with us teenagers with our trivial concerns. He knew that beneath our triviality was a desire to know something deep and profound that would nourish our hungry souls. His life was the voice of the Shepherd to us. He taught us how to listen to the Good Shepherd. It changed the way I understand the vocation of a priest. I realized that my task is to discern the presence of the Good Shepherd that beckons us to come together and discover the comfort and peace He provides His flock.

In reality, I was only in the Anglican parish for six months before he got transferred. I was serving as missioner to the street children in Brazil when he passed away in the mid nineties. It’s amazing that in such a short time someone could have such a strong impact, not just in my life but in the lives of many. Like he said before, it wasn’t him. He is dispensable. However, the Good Shepherd is always around and He never changes. Joe taught us an eternal lesson. He showed me the best way to help our youth in the streets. Most importantly, he revealed to us that the Good Shepherd uses us as His voice when we are willing to be His instrument of Love to His sheep. I hope that I can be like Pastor Joe to our youths and maybe it would be a great blessing that one day they, in turn, could be the same for someone else.