Sunday Readings for April 25-26, Fourth Sunday of Easter
By Lyn Zahorik | For On Mission
I recently bought a T-shirt that will be perfect for this Sunday. Printed on it are the words: “The Lord is my shepherd. I need constant supervision.” I bought it mostly as a tongue-in-cheek joke, but the more I’ve sat with it, the more I’ve realized just how theologically accurate it is.
On this Good Shepherd Sunday, Jesus describes us as sheep, which, if we’re honest, can feel a little unflattering. Sheep aren’t exactly known for their intelligence or their independence. They wander easily. They follow the wrong voices. They get themselves stuck in places they had no business being in to begin with. And if we’re willing to admit it, that description feels uncomfortably familiar. How often in life have we ended up lost, overwhelmed, or off course — not because we were malicious or lazy, but because we listened to the wrong voice or tried to go it alone?
In Jesus’ time, multiple flocks often shared the same sheepfold overnight. At dawn, the shepherds would gather at the gate and call out — not with name tags, whistles, or commands — but simply with their voices. And somehow, in all that noise and movement, each sheep knew exactly who to follow. Not because they were especially clever sheep, but because they were familiar sheep. Over time, they had learned that voice. They had heard it when food was given, when danger approached, when they were frightened or unsure where to go. That voice had become associated with safety, care, and direction.
Learning the Shepherd’s voice in our own lives works much the same way. It is formed quietly, through habit, repetition, and nearness. We begin to recognize that voice when we make space for it — by opening Scripture regularly, by receiving the sacraments as nourishment for the journey, by returning to prayer even when our words feel clumsy or distracted. Over time, something begins to shift. Certain choices start to carry a sense of peace rather than anxiety.
Certain paths lose their pull. Certain words — spoken by a trusted friend, a spiritual guide, or even a restless conscience — sound familiar in a way that draws us forward rather than drives us by fear.
This kind of listening takes patience. Sheep do not learn the shepherd’s voice in a single afternoon, and neither do we. Some days we follow closely. Other days we chase louder voices — the voices of urgency, comparison, or control — and only later realize we’ve wandered. But the Shepherd does not abandon the flock because of this. He keeps calling, with the same steady voice we’ve heard before.
Good Shepherd Sunday reminds us that the goal of faith is not perfection, but relationship. May we learn, day by day, to recognize the voice of Jesus that leads us toward life. And may we discover what sheep have always known: the safest place to be is right behind the Shepherd who knows our name.
The readings for Sunday, April 26, can be found at Fourth Sunday of Easter | USCCB.