I place my faith in the Good Shepherd,
in his clear voice, one I knew I knew,
seeking me out, drawing me in
from the dark.
I place my faith in the Good Shepherd,
in his broad shoulders as he lifts me,
carrying me back to good pasture,
back home.
I place my faith in the battered shoulders of Jesus,
shoulders forgiving enough to haul a cross,
strong enough to bear my full weight
whatever the cost.
Yes, I believe in the shoulders of Jesus,
shoulders broad enough for every black sheep,
strong enough when we are lost
and when we are weak.
I believe in the shoulders of Jesus –
throwing his arms welcome wide
and lifting me into this embrace,
safe from all wolves and the thickest of thickets.
I believe in the shoulders of Jesus
betraying His Father’s family trait
of rescue and acceptance.
I believe in the good shoulders of Jesus.
That’s where I place my faith.
John 10: 14 “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me— 15 just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep. 16 I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd.
Luke 15: 4 “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? 5 And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders 6 and goes home.
