“The Shepherd Who Left Home” 

The night was silent and cold over Abingdon, Virginia as Pastor Jim sat alone in his study, the soft glow of his desk lamp illuminating an open Bible. He read slowly, letting the words settle deep into his heart:

“For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” (Luke 19:10)

And he whispered, “Lord… help me see this the way You do.”

His eyes drifted to another passage—one he had preached dozens of times but suddenly felt afresh:

“If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off?” (Matthew 18:12)

Jim leaned back and closed his eyes. You left the glory of heaven, Lord… You left everything to find us.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. It was Sarah Turner, eyes swollen from tears, hands trembling.

“Pastor… Robbie’s missing again.”

“Come in,” Jim said gently.

She sank into the chair across from him. “He ran out after we argued. He said God doesn’t care… that no one does.”

Jim listened quietly.

“Pastor,” she whispered, voice cracking, “is God really looking for him? Or did He give up? Because sometimes I feel like even God gets tired of searching.”

Jim’s heart ached—not just for the boy, but for the mother who felt abandoned.

“Sarah,” he said softly, “God didn’t just go searching. He left heaven to find us. He didn’t send an angel, or a prophet, or a messenger—He came Himself.”

Sarah wiped her tears. “But why would He do that? Why leave heaven for… people like us?”

Jim opened his Bible again. “Because we were the lost sheep. All of humanity. Isaiah says, ‘We all, like sheep, have gone astray; each of us has turned to our own way.’ And Jesus came because He refused to leave us wandering.”

He closed the Bible gently. “Robbie is not beyond His reach. None of us are.”

That evening, after Sarah left, Jim felt a deep stirring in his spirit—an unmistakable nudge. Go out and look.

But this time, he didn’t feel he was merely going after a boy. He felt he was being invited into God’s own heart—into the story of the Shepherd who had left the glory of heaven to search for His lost ones.

The moon lit his path as he walked behind the church toward the woods. Pine needles rustled underfoot. A cold wind brushed against him.

As he moved deeper into the trees, he prayed, “Lord, show me how You search. Show me Your heart for the lost.”

Then he heard it—the faintest sound, like a sob muffled by leaves.

“Hello?” Jim called softly. “Is someone there?”

Silence… then a broken voice.

“Just leave me alone.”

He followed the sound until he found Robbie sitting at the base of a tree, knees pulled to his chest, shaking.

“Hey, Robbie,” Jim said gently. “I’m glad I found you.”

The boy didn’t look up. “You don’t have to pretend to care, Pastor.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“You’re just doing your job.”

Jim sat beside him. “Searching for you isn’t my job—it’s my heart. But before I ever searched for you, Someone far greater went searching first.”

Robbie sniffed. “God? Yeah right.”

“Absolutely God,” Jim said. “You think I came out here because I’m good at this? No, Robbie. I came because God is the Shepherd who left His home to save us. You’re not the only one who’s ever wandered.”

Robbie finally looked up, eyes red and tired. “I didn’t ask Him to come.”

“Neither did I,” Jim said with a smile. “But He came anyway. That’s what love does.”

Robbie hugged his knees tighter. “Why would God care so much? Why leave heaven? Why come down into this mess?”

Pastor Jim took a deep breath. “Because love can’t stay distant. Listen, Robbie—before you were ever born, God saw you wandering. He saw the whole world wandering. And instead of staying safe and glorious and worshiped in heaven, He stepped down into our darkness.”

He paused.

“He became human… fragile, hungry, tired. He walked dusty roads. He touched lepers. He wept at graves. He allowed Himself to be beaten, rejected, crucified. Because the Shepherd knew that saving us would cost Him everything.”

Robbie’s voice trembled. “Why?”

“To bring us home,” Jim said. “To put us on His shoulders and carry us back to the Father.”

Tears streamed down the boy’s face. “I don’t deserve that.”

“Neither do I,” Jim said. “That’s what makes it beautiful.”

They sat quietly, the cold night settling around them.

After a while, Robbie spoke again. “Pastor… do you think God came down for me too? Even after everything I’ve said? Everything I’ve done?”

Jim turned and faced him fully. “Robbie, this is the whole point: Jesus came because of what we’ve done, not in spite of it. He said, ‘I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.’ He came for the broken. The angry. The hurting. The confused.”

Robbie whispered, “So… I’m not too far gone?”

“You’re exactly the kind of sheep He leaves heaven to find.”

When they stood and began walking back toward the lights of the church, Robbie’s steps felt uncertain.

“I’m afraid to go back,” he admitted.

“I know,” Jim said. “But you’re not going back alone.”

“I don’t think Mom wants me anymore.”

Jim smiled. “Oh, Robbie. You’re her heart walking around outside her body. She’s been praying for you like crazy.”

As they reached the edge of the woods, the church door flung open—and Sarah came running toward them without hesitation.

“Robbie!” she cried, embracing him tightly.

He froze… then slowly returned the embrace. “I’m sorry, Mom. I really am.”

She held him even tighter. “You came home. That’s all that matters.”

Jim stepped back, watching the reunion with reverence. This was the heart of Jesus’ story—the shepherd rejoicing over the one that was found.

Inside the warm church office, Robbie looked at Pastor Jim quietly.

“I want… to come home to God too,” he said. “If He really came all that way to find me… I don’t want to run anymore.”

Jim felt tears prick his eyes.

“Let’s pray, Robbie. The Shepherd has been waiting.”

As they prayed together, the presence of God felt tangible—gentle, powerful, welcoming. Heaven’s love, reaching earth. The Shepherd lifting His lost sheep onto His shoulders.

Later, as Jim watched Robbie leave with his mother, he whispered a quiet prayer.

“You left heaven for us, Lord. And You’re still searching. Still calling. Still saving.”

And he knew deep in his heart:

The greatest rescue story ever told began with a Shepherd who refused to stay home.

• He came down to earth.
• He sought the lost.
• He carried us back.

And heaven still rejoices every time one more sheep is found.

Ed Johanson  © 11/18/2025

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