i am not a shepherd

What led me to start this Substack journey?

In September of 2024, I found myself preparing a sermon series focused on Psalm 23. I felt a lot of internal resistance toward doing this series, since Psalm 23 is universally known and, in my opinion, overused in many ways. I don’t know if this is a pride or ego thing, but I usually try to avoid passages like this and instead focus on scriptures in my sermon series that may not be as well known. I guess this is my way of trying to offer people something different, refreshing, and new.

But God weighed it very heavily on my heart to spend a whole month on Psalm 23. So I took this as a challenge and really dove deep, hoping that I might learn something new from a passage I have read countless times—from the pulpit, at bedsides, at funerals, etc. Let me tell you, God used this time to completely change my perspective and understanding of what these words mean, which ultimately led to a transformation in how I understand myself as a person, a leader, and a pastor.

If you Google synonyms for the word pastor, you’ll find the word shepherd. Growing up in the church—specifically a Korean United Methodist Church—pastors were often referred to as shepherds. Once I began ministry myself, I was told countless times that I am the shepherd and the congregation is my flock. There was a season of my life and ministry when I found deep value in that title.

“Yes, I am a shepherd. I am to take care of the flock that God has entrusted to me. I have to do whatever I can to lead this flock. I have to be the one to lead, to feed, to foster.”

But as I was exploring Psalm 23—before I opened any commentaries, looked at the Hebrew, or did any research—the very first verse rocked me like an uppercut from Iron Mike Tyson, landing me in a state of deep questioning.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”

Had I forgotten who the shepherd truly is? If the Lord is the shepherd, can I also be a shepherd? If not, what am I? And what would it mean for me to understand that God is not only my shepherd, but our shepherd—the shepherd of my congregation?

I spiraled. Hard.

If God is the shepherd of us all—of the church, of my ministry—what does that make me? How does that impact or change the way I lead as a pastor?

I began researching shepherds. Though I was born and raised in Ohio—and though people assume that because I’m from Ohio I must be from a little house on the prairie—I am not. I actually do not have a true understanding of what a shepherd is or what the role entails outside of what I’ve learned from a biblical perspective.

That’s when I stumbled upon someone known as the Yorkshire Shepherdess, Amanda Owen, a modern-day shepherdess in Yorkshire, England.

Amanda is responsible for shepherding a flock of over a thousand sheep, along with raising seven children. She wakes up at dawn every day to care for her flock. This is an excerpt from an article in which Amanda was interviewed:

Those lured by pastoral imagery can expect a brutal awakening. “People come to our farm on a sunny summer’s day and think we live an idyll (a peaceful or picturesque place),” she says. “But if you’re trying to round up sheep in snow so deep you can’t lift your legs, or carrying a hay bale a mile through three-foot drifts, or tying a sheep’s prolapse with string because you’re miles from a vet, it’s a different picture.”¹

Then I saw photos of Amanda at work that truly depicted what her role as a shepherd entails.

That’s where my aha moment happened—the moment that shattered my internal understanding of my role as a leader and pastor. The things Amanda does as a shepherd—I don’t do those. That’s what God does. God is the one who carries the hay bale a mile through three feet of snow to feed and nurture the sheep. God is the one who provides attention in moments of dire need, bringing healing and restoration.

I don’t provide the feed—God does.
I don’t provide the healing—God does.

Why? Because God is the shepherd, not me.

So then, what am I?

I am not a shepherd. I am a sheepdog.

My role is to guide the flock to the shepherd—the one who can provide what only the shepherd can provide. My responsibility isn’t to be the one with all the answers or the one who does all the work. My responsibility is to help safely and securely lead the flock to God, who alone can do the work and give the answers that are truly needed.

This revelation—this newfound identity as a sheepdog—was transformative and humbling in countless ways. It revealed that I am actually on the journey with the flock. The shepherd is not only the shepherd of the flock; the shepherd is my shepherd as well. I need to be led. I need direction. I need guidance.

As a sheepdog, it is okay if I don’t have all the answers or all the wisdom. As a sheepdog leader, I am not only called to lead from the front, but also from the back, from within, and from the margins. Ultimately, leading alone—without listening to and remaining connected to the shepherd—will cause me to become lost as well. Therefore, it is absolutely critical that I remain one with the shepherd.

Psalm 23:2 states, “He makes me lie down in green pastures.” In the Hebrew, green pastures is not merely referring to the place where Julie Andrews is frolicking in *The Sound of Music—that’s honestly what I always imagined. In Hebrew, “green pastures” translates to a home, a habitation—the abode of the shepherd.

The green pastures that the shepherd—God—is leading us toward is the place where God abides: the presence of God. Therefore, my call as a sheepdog leader and pastor is not simply to lead people to a sermon point or to knowledge I think is important. My ultimate responsibility is to help guide people into the very presence of God—the very place I, too, am seeking to be.

This Substack is simply a place for me to be honest, vulnerable, and transparent. It is a space where I can share the journeys I have walked through—and continue to walk through—as a sheepdog, along with the lessons I’ve learned along the way about my Shepherd. It’s a place where I will be brutally honest about the times I’ve been lost, the moments I may have led the flock astray, and also a place where I can humbly share what has worked for me and what may help you as we seek green pastures.

We all long for green pastures. We all desire to abide in the presence of God. I am not someone who has all the answers by any means. I am figuring this out as I go. I learn every day. But I do seek to walk alongside other sheepdogs.

So if this space can provide guidance, or offer you room to discover your own inner sheepdog—or even give you permission to frolic and be honest with yourself—then that is enough. I hope you’ll join me on this journey as we seek, together, to hear the voice of the Shepherd.

1. The Guardian (Anna Tims, How do I become … a shepherd, 10 April 2014)