The book of John begins with a scattering – an exodus. The Jewish people were leaving the synagogues and their designated leaders in order to go out into the wilderness to be baptized and hear John speak about the coming Messiah. They no longer recognized the voice of God in their shepherds, so they began to leave them (John 10:5). Jesus tries to explain this to the Pharisees by pointing out how their actions and attitudes had become peace-stealing and soul-destroying, and had made them unrecognizable as shepherds. John further develops this point throughout his Gospel by highlighting multiple scenes in which he lays bare the Pharisees as robbers, thieves and hired hands. He draws attention to these scenes not just to show how Jesus exceeds these men as the True Shepherd, but to illustrate something about the human tendency to wield power against others, or to silently self-protect, and the impact of these dynamics on shepherds and sheep alike.
What follows is a set of emotional tools or adaptations that John highlights throughout his gospel that the pastors of Jesus’ time were using on the sheep and on each other. If Jesus’ main complaint against the Pharisees was, indeed, pastoral, then we must look at these scenes with an open heart to how we, too, might use these same tools against those we lead and those we love. We must also honestly assess the risks we run when we allow others to use these emotional tools against each other within the church.
Contempt
Contempt is an emotional tool used to diminish and dismiss another human. The logic of contempt is this: If the human I am in conflict with is not legitimate, then nothing they say is legitimate. If the person I’m arguing with is beneath me, then, obviously, anything they would say would be beneath me and not even worth considering. Contempt can be seen in a sneer, or heard in a condescending or mocking voice. It can be wielded bluntly by calling someone a name, or it can be hidden behind theological erudition. As one author states, “In whatever form, contempt is poisonous to a relationship because it conveys disgust and superiority, especially moral, ethical, or characterological.” Contempt, simply put, says, “I’m better than you. And you are lesser than me.” As Brene Brown says, the message behind contempt is: “I’m not just angry…I’m done.”
As we read through John’s Gospel, we see John, ever the emotionally and relationally insightful pastor, making clear that hatred (contempt) is a defining feature of the Pharisees. Their contempt shows up for nearly everyone: Jesus, the sheep they are shepherding, and even fellow leaders who disagree with them. Contempt was the sharpest tool in their belt.
We see their contempt toward Jesus in the way they dismiss him during his ministry, accusing him of being demon possessed: “Who is trying to kill you…you are demon possessed,” (John 7:20) as well as using racist attacks in an attempt to diminish his credibility. In John 8:48, the religious leaders accuse Jesus of being a Samaritan. Samaritans were not valued as full-fledged Jews at that time and were considered “lesser than” people. To accuse Jesus of being a Samaritan was essentially telling him that he is not as good as the Jews (The use of these terms also betrays the leaders’ contempt for Samaritans.) The purpose of these accusations was to shame Jesus into silence and destroy his credibility with the people, so that they would not listen to him and follow him, thus leaving the Pharisees without a flock to shepherd.
Their contempt shows up in the words they use about their own sheep. They refer to those people who are beginning to believe in Jesus as the messiah as a “mob” (John 7:49). It shows up in their relentless antagonism of the man who was born blind and healed by Jesus. Rather than approach him with curiosity to discover how this miracle occurred, and celebrate his healing, “they hurled insults at him… ‘You were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!’ And they threw him out.” (John 9:13-34).
Their contempt shows up whenever they are challenged even by one of their own. As the Jewish leaders were considering killing Jesus to keep the exodus of sheep from their pasture from occurring, they level their contempt at their temple guards as well as at one of their own:
Finally the temple guards went back to the chief priests and the Pharisees, who asked them, “Why didn’t you bring him in?”
“No one ever spoke the way this man does,” the guards replied.
“You mean he has deceived you also?” the Pharisees retorted.
“Have any of the rulers or of the Pharisees believed in him?(John 7:45-48)
The Pharisees deride the guards’ intelligence, making them out to be simpletons who are easily deceived, while elevating their own intelligence, making their beliefs about Jesus out to be authoritative and final. When Nicodemus (one of their fellow leaders) then objects to their plan to condemn Jesus without a trial, they point their corrosive, and elitist, contempt at him: “Are you from Galilee, too? Look into it, and you will find that a prophet does not come out of Galilee,” (John 7:52) using the same shaming sentiment that Nathaniel used before he was called by Jesus: “Nazareth?! Can anything good come from there?”
Now, do any of these instances include the Pharisees admitting their contempt for Jesus, for the people, or for each other? No. But Jesus sees it in their shaming and dismissive words, and in their outcasting, scapegoating actions. Jesus assures his disciples that these same religious leaders will hate them also, exposing the motives and stances toward anyone who believes in him: “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. (John 15:18 – though this verse is often used to discuss the hatred of the outside world, non-believers, toward Christians, in this instance, Jesus is referring to religious leaders. To this point in John’s narrative, the only people who were recorded persecuting or hating Jesus were the Pharisees.)
I find solace in Jesus pronouncing these words and actions as hateful. Why? Because contempt is a destructive emotional tool, and very few people, unless aided by the Spirit, will admit to wielding it against another person. When this confession doesn’t come, it can make the object of that contempt feel crazy, or over-reactive, or just wrong. So, for Jesus to label their reactions as proof of their contempt, even though these pastors would never admit to it, he sees it and names it clearly for what it is. It doesn’t have to be confessed to be real.
The persistent presence of contempt was real for the Pharisees, and it has been evident in the words and actions of many pastors and elders in the PCA throughout the years of the current debate. This contempt was most evidently seen on a Facebook page made up of elders in the PCA. It was a private group, and therefore, many felt the freedom to give full vent to their demeaning comments, slanderous accusations, and questioning of intelligence, moral soundness, and orthodoxy. But, their contempt did also show up publicly.
Pastors and elders referred to those they disagreed with as “woke,” the “liberal mob,” the “LGBTQ mafia.” Articles were written, and speeches made at our assemblies, that seethed with contempt. Many pastors and elders delegitimized arguments made against them by reducing the person making the argument to being a sinner, and therefore having no right to lecture them. The contempt was seen in constant investigations with the intent to cast out a certain pastor who was gay, yet celibate, who was pleading with the PCA to treat gay people (whether they were believers or not) with the love of Jesus. The contempt was shown more subtly in the unwillingness of leaders to even engage those believers in the denomination who would be affected by these overtures; speaking about, speaking over, and speaking behind the backs of these men, but never speaking directly to them. These people were dismissed.
This kind of dismissal of humanity is what Jesus is talking about when he says that the thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy. Contempt is dignity-destroying. It is the dismissal of the value of another; their words, their worth, their being. People cannot thrive in environments where contempt is given full vent. It is destructive not only to individuals, but relationships as well. Marriage researchers John and Julie Gottman categorize contempt as one of their “four horsemen” that they have noted as one of their primary predictors of divorce. About contempt, they say this: “Contempt is the most poisonous of all relationship killers. We cannot emphasize that enough. Contempt destroys psychological, emotional, and physical health.”
When contempt is allowed to remain within a relationship, family, or church no less than the utter destruction of the person is the result.
The Creation, and Wielding, of Fear
John 7:12 Among the crowds there was widespread whispering about [Jesus]. Some said, “He is a good man.” Others replied, “No, he deceives the people.” But no one would say anything publicly about him for fear of the leaders.
John 9:18 [The Pharisees] still did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they sent for the man’s parents. “Is this your son?” they asked. “Is this the one you say was born blind? How is it that now he can see?”
“We know he is our son,” the parents answered, “and we know he was born blind. But how he can see now, or who opened his eyes, we don’t know. Ask him. He is of age; he will speak for himself.”
His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders, who already had decided that anyone who acknowledged that Jesus was the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue.
John 12:42 Yet at the same time many even among the leaders believed in him. But because of the Pharisees they would not openly acknowledge their faith for fear they would be put out of the synagogue…
The Pharisees had succeeded in creating a culture of fear amongst the sheep that they were ordained to tend and even amongst themselves. The fear of being put out of their synagogue silenced sheep and shepherds alike. Hopeful and expectant believers were not allowed to freely praise their newfound Messiah without fear. Rather than celebrate with those miraculously healed, the Pharisees investigated them for moral failing. Parents were not allowed to celebrate the healing of their son under threat of being cast out and ostracized from the rest of their community. Even fellow leaders were cowed.
The Pharisees’ relentless scrutiny and investigation had taken a toll on the sheep, and even other shepherds. The goal became flying under the radar or throwing others under the bus. People began to do whatever necessary to evade the harsh and brutal treatment of their religious leaders. The threat of expulsion and alienation from community divided families, suppressed freedom of thought and speech, and forced compliance.
Looking at these passages as a counselor, attachment theory comes to mind. Attachment theory posits that humans have a hardwired need for safe, intimate connection with others. It states that humans were not created to do life in isolation, but inherently need secure bonds with others to survive. When these connections are threatened, a “primal panic” results, and a person will do whatever it takes to ensure the threatened connection is not broken. In the cases above, in order to remain a part of the synagogue and not be cut off from connection with their community, the above believers went silent. Parents left an adult child unprotected and uncelebrated. And self-protective leaders sealed Jesus’ fate by not speaking out against the sins being committed by their brothers as they plotted Jesus’ murder.
Now, fear is contagious. When unchecked, fear spreads, panic ensues, and bad things happen in its wake. Modern history is littered with such instances. Biblical history is, as well. John gives us a glimpse into such a spread of panic as he describes a conference held by the Pharisees in which they are trying to determine what to do about this threat to the established order. In the wake of Lazarus’ resurrection, and the multitude of sheep that were leaving their leaders to follow this miracle maker, they say this:
John 11:48 If we let [Jesus] go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our temple and our nation.”
If I give these leaders every benefit of the doubt, I can empathize with them a bit. It is possible that what they feared most is the loss of the temple and the destruction of their faith and nationhood, which had been given to them by God, and passed down through Abraham and Moses. It is possible that they were actually looking out for their people and place, and out of their own primal panic, feared being disconnected from their God, their law, and their home. This feared disconnection put them into fight mode with Jesus, and those who followed him, seeing them as threats to their connection to what they held dear. By the end of this meeting, the panic had fully set in, protective plans were developed, theological justifications were created and Jesus’ fate was sealed.
We saw panic spread within the PCA as it was related to the issue of whether gay/same sex attracted men who had chosen celibacy or had married women were fit to be pastors or elders in the same way. This panic led to a culture of scrutiny and investigation. It led to the public silencing of leaders and friends on behalf of those they privately supported. It led not to curiosity and celebration of men and women who chose to follow Jesus, subvert their desires, and follow what they believe to be the biblical sexual ethic, but instead, led to suspicion, doubt casting, and scapegoating of faithful men and women.
If I am to give these leaders every benefit of the doubt, and trust what they were saying, it seems that what they feared was the loss of their denomination to liberalism and a rejection of the law of God. They feared that they would lose their spiritual home. They feared that their sheep would be led astray.
But, these leaders were unable to regulate their emotional reactions, and in their fear, they were unable to reasonably deal with the data that was publicly and clearly articulated. The emotional logic of their fear was this: “If I am this afraid, it must mean that there’s something that terrifying out there.” But, this logic creates a devastating self-fulfilling prophecy. God’s law and call to holiness were NOT being forsaken, but were being beautifully lived out, but this was seen as antinomianism. These leaders could not accept the results of the investigation of one pastor who made his life an open book regarding his sexuality and theology, and so, forced a second investigation after the first investigation found him orthodox and honest. In their fear, these leaders called conferences spreading this fear of a progressive infiltration in the denomination, and called people to rise up to stand together to defend the church. “If you hear anything that sounds like evidence of this liberal infestation, contact your presbytery and ask for an investigation of your pastor/elder.” While claiming that the peace of the church was being disrupted by these “liberal” elders, the safety, security, and peace was being actively stolen by these inherently divisive and suspicion-creating actions. But, this is what happens when people go into primal panic: they create the very disconnection they fear.
The results of these fear-driven actions on the people subject to these words and actions were devastating. Pastors and leaders who had previously felt safe and welcomed at church, were now experiencing panic in their places of worship. Friendships were disrupted and broken. Freedom of conscience to speak about and live out faith in ways that are life-giving, honest, and winsome was lost, stolen, for the sake of calming the panic of elders and congregants not interested in extending the trust necessary for healthy relationships. A denomination lost pastors and elders who held to orthodox faith in beautiful and creative ways that made the gospel as beautiful and disarming as Jesus himself. And sheep, feeling the unsafety that is created by such a culture of suspicion and scrutiny, scattered.
If perfect love drives out fear, what we’ve discovered in the PCA is the equal and opposite reaction of this truth: Perfect fear drives out love.
The Righteous Cause
John 16 “All this I have told you so that you will not fall away. They will put you out of the synagogue; in fact, the time is coming when anyone who kills you will think they are offering a service to God.”
As Jesus prepares his friends for his death and departure, he warns them about what they should expect for their futures. From here on out, they must expect expulsion and execution, not from outsiders or unbelievers, but insiders; from men who were once their shepherds. It’s a sad truth that when men believe themselves to have a righteous cause, they will often go about fighting for that cause in quite unrighteous ways.
John captures multiple moments of the Pharisees doing this very thing:
As Jesus was preaching at the Festival of Tabernacle, Jesus calls out the Pharisees in the crowd saying, “why are you trying to kill me?” In order to cover up their plans and keep the people who believed in him from turning against them, they lie. “You are demon-possessed. Who is trying to kill you?” Though he knew the murderous plans they harbored in their hearts, and though many in the crowd even knew of these plans, they lied about them. Jesus exposes their ninth-commandment-breaking hearts for all to see. (John 7:20)
Months later, after Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead, the Pharisees gather to decide what to do about the number of Jewish people that left their synagogues to see this miracle worker. In this meeting, they decided not only to kill Jesus, but also made plans to kill Lazarus for the crime of having been raised back to life, plotting their breaking of the sixth commandment. (John 12:10)
And, finally, in order to get their plan of killing Jesus across the finish line, and do away with this threat to their established order, they break the first commandment. When Pilate calls out, “Shall I crucify your king?” the Pharisees, and the crowd they’ve whipped up into a frenzy, respond, “We have no king but Caesar.” (John 19:15) The Pharisees feel no need to defend the integrity of their God or their faith in this moment. That could put a hitch in their plan. So, they tell Pilate that their true king is Caesar. And in that moment, all of the Pharisees’ accusations of blasphemy toward Jesus for claiming God as his father and their self-righteous safeguarding of the glory of God and the law are laid bare as nothing more than means to an end: protecting their power, their pasture and their position. These men were willing to use any means necessary, including disavowing God as their king, in their “service of God.”
The emotional logic of a righteous cause is this: “If my cause is righteous, then I am righteous. If I am righteous, I do not have to wonder about the motivations, implications, or even the righteousness of my actions. My actions are righteous because I am righteous, and I, and my actions, are righteous because they are all being used in service of God/my righteous cause.”
The benefits of this emotional tool are many. A righteous cause clarifies the world and my place in it. It divides all the players into good guys and bad guys, and makes it easier to know who my true allies/enemies are. It simplifies life, as I no longer have to consider the righteousness of my actions nor work through the messy consequences of my actions. I no longer have to be self-reflective. And, I no longer have to consider what the other “side” is saying. “They are unrighteous. We are righteous. Anything other than winning them over to our side, or pushing them out of our midst, would be compromising with unrighteousness.”
This is exactly the intractability many of us experienced while engaging pastors and elders in the PCA debate surrounding ordination. Theological arguments that disagreed with their understanding of Scripture were not engaged, but were simply dismissed as liberalism. When pastors and elders were confronted with their slander and contempt, they disengaged, and refused to address their sin and the harm done by it. While they were concerned about the peace of the church being disrupted by the ordination of gay/ssa elders, they were actively dividing and disrupting the peace of the church with the see-something-say-something culture of fear they were creating, by inviting pastors who disagreed with them to leave the denomination, and by actively harboring, and sowing, distrust. However, they didn’t see these actions as peace-disturbing, but as the right and righteous actions to take against such an enemy.
Righteous causes have baptized any number of sins committed by those devoted to the cause.
Playing Both Sides and Self-Protective Silence
There is another type of Pharisee in John. While one set of leaders was bent on offensive maneuvers against Jesus and those who believed in him, another set was bent on defending their own peace, place, and position. This self-defense often showed up in silence, half-hearted protest, and trying to play both sides. While the sins of the contemptuous, fear-wielding, righteous cause fighters were active and obvious, the sins of these self-protective pastors were more passive and easily missed.
John 12:42 …many even among the leaders believed in him. But because of the Pharisees they would not openly acknowledge their faith for fear they would be put out of the synagogue; for they loved human praise more than praise from God.
Above all else, these men feared expulsion from their community. They feared being forced to find a place and an identity outside of the religious system that they knew. It seems they also loved having people, including the other leaders, think well of them and look up to them and listen to them. They didn’t want to risk their place or their voice or their identities. When it came down to speaking up on behalf of the Jews that were beginning to believe in Jesus, or speaking on behalf of Jesus, who was being unjustly persecuted, or speaking against the sinful plans of their peers, they instead chose to protect themselves by staying silent.
John highlights one such Pharisee in his book, a religious leader named Nicodemus. I’m guessing that John got much of his insight into the psycho-social makeup of the Pharisees from Nicodemus. John recounts stories about the Pharisees throughout his book that only an insider could know. It seems that, in the end, Nicodemus saw the error of his self-protective ways, and began to turn that around. In the end, we find him among 2 men who helped bury Jesus, so I have to give him credit for taking that risk. But, I’ll be honest, it’s been difficult for me to find compassion for Nicodemus and Peter for the last couple of years now. More on Peter in a future post, but for now let’s talk about Nicodemus.
Everything we need to know about Nicodemus’ playing of both sides can be found in two verses:
“Now there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus who was a member of the Jewish ruling council. 2 He came to Jesus at night and said, ‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.’”
Nicodemus is an insider, a part of the ruling council. He had some interest in Jesus, but was afraid of being seen with Jesus on his own, so he sought him out under cover of night. He had a lot to lose. As John continues his narrative, we will discover that many Jewish leaders were afraid of admitting their belief in Jesus for fear of being cast out of the synagogue. It’s understandable. No one wants to lose their place in their community. But, this fear leads Nicodemus to play both sides, and in order to do so, he lies, straight out of the gates. Okay…maybe it’s not a lie. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Either way, Nicodemus says this:
“We all know you are a teacher who has come from God.”
“We.” Who is this “we?” “We,” believed no such thing. What we know is that a very vocal number of Jewish leaders believed Jesus to be a threat, not a teacher sent by God. Jesus had just overturned the economic system of the temple in the chapter before this encounter, indicting the Jewish leaders, making clear that they were not on the side of God or the people, but were out for themselves. These Jewish leaders most certainly did NOT believe that Jesus came from God.
So, why did Nicodemus say this?
I think he wanted to give Jesus the idea he was in safe company. And, with Nicodemus, I believe Jesus was safe…ish. I don’t think Nicodemus was trying to trick Jesus or out him. I think he genuinely wanted to follow Jesus. But, Nicodemus also wasn’t able to take the risks necessary to actually protect Jesus. He was stuck. He wanted to follow Jesus, but he also wanted to keep his place amongst the Jewish leaders. Maybe this led him to believe something untrue about his current community (that they actually thought Jesus came from God) so that he wouldn’t feel bad about keeping his allegiance with them. Maybe he wanted to make Jesus feel safe, believing that there was a place for him at the temple, at the synagogue, and with the leaders. Maybe, being a person who loved the praise of men, he just wanted Jesus’ praise as well. Whatever his motives, it is clear that he was a man split in two.
The next time Nicodemus is named is in John 7. The Pharisees were looking for a way to kill Jesus, so they sent the temple guards out to arrest him. When these guards come back empty-handed, Nicodemus protests the Pharisees’ plan. He says “Does our law condemn a man without first hearing him to find out what he has been doing?” Nicodemus does protest the murderous actions of his colleagues. But, he’s quite half-hearted about it. Rather than call them on their sinful plan, he, instead, makes a procedural argument. He could have said, “Brothers, this is sin. This is folly. You must repent. You have been blinded by your arrogance and fear. Our job has always been to shepherd the sheep toward God, but here is one sent from God, and you are trying to kill him. Let us not repeat the sins of our fathers and kill the prophets.” But, instead, he merely questions: “Doesn’t the law require us to try this man before we kill him.” Again, maybe he was still trying to believe the best about his fellow leaders, hoping they would see their faulty application of the law, come to their senses, and cease their murderous plot. Whatever his motivation, his ambivalence and fear kept him from more aggressively defending Jesus and pushing back against the sinful actions of his peers.
And, just as there were real costs to Nicodemus’ silence, there were very real costs of the silence of pastors and elders in the debate over sexuality and ordination. I heard of private support, but rarely saw public protection. Slanderous, question-begging, Fear-inciting statements were made by antagonists during public meetings with no rebuke or censure. Though many leaders worked tirelessly against the “liberal infiltration,” creating non-profit organizations and writing and speaking extensively on the peril facing the PCA, there were few willing to publicly protest this peace-destroying work. Much of the defense that was offered through these years has been procedural, not personal. Documents proving orthodoxy were written to protect the ruling bodies against allegations of liberalism. Pastors and organizational leaders assuaged donor and congregant fears by distancing themselves from a specific organization that was seeking to care for people who are gay/ssa in the church. And while the supposed sin of those scrutinized was frequently publicly speculated about and spoken of, the sins that were clear and apparent from those harsh and brutal shepherds were rarely, if ever, examined, exposed, or extinguished.
As I said, it’s been difficult for me to find compassion for Nicodemus, and for those who have been self-protecively silent. But, if I’m being entirely honest, it’s probably because these men remind me of me. I am also a man who has been driven by the fear of being wrong and rejected. I have been silenced by fear, and have said nothing when I should have said something. I have protected my place amongst people whose admiration and affection I “needed,” by laughing at jokes, sharing insider secrets, or just keeping my mouth shut if exposure might lead to expulsion.
So…I get Nicodemus. I get why he stayed quiet. I get why he was afraid. I get why he hoped for the best from his peers and believed that he could be both an insider and follow Jesus. It wasn’t until I found myself an outsider, found myself unspoken for and undefended, that I realized the cost of silence that is still born by others. Unfortunately, most of human behavior does not change until it hits the end of its effectiveness, hurts us or turns on us in some way.
I wonder if this is why Jesus called us to do as he did when he kept his distance from the insiders, and instead associated with the blind and lame, Samaritans, women, the unclean, the poor and powerless; those who are already outsiders. It is difficult, camel-through-the-eye-of-a-needle-difficult, for an insider to give up his insiderness on behalf of an outsider. I think Jesus is telling us, with his life and actions, that it’s better to never be an insider, than to become an insider and be bound to the keeping of that position.
It is better, safer, and more dignifying to be outside the gates, outside of power, with Jesus than on the inside of power with men.
Conclusion
There is a deep magic in repentance.
What I’ve learned over the years of parenting is that repentance is powerful, and seems almost inexhaustible, in re-establishing broken trust and the re-building of closeness. I have had to knock on my oldest son’s door innumerable times, after speaking harshly to him, in order to apologize, ask his forgiveness and renew my vow to try to be kinder, gentler and more humane. At one time I feared that he would stop forgiving me and would just try to get a minimum safe distance from me. But, we’re nearing year 16 and his forgiveness has not hit its limit.
The words a friend of mine is known for saying help me navigate the moments of fear and shame that accompany every time I have to, once again, say “I’m sorry” to my son: “The dad is the chief repenter of the family.” It’s not the dad’s job to be sinless and perfect, that’s an impossibility. It’s the dad’s job to be honest with himself and with his children about his sins against them, acknowledge them for what they are, and make efforts to treat his children as Jesus would treat them.
Why do I bring up this story? Because, if the church is a spiritual family, then the reasonable extrapolation of my friend’s principle is this: “If the dad is to be the chief repenter of the family, the pastor/elder is to be the chief repenter of the church.” It is not his job to be sinless and perfect, that’s an impossibility. If the church genuinely wants to restore the broken trust of its scattered sheep, repentance will be vital. Pastors and elders will have to be honest with themselves about their harshness or their absence, acknowledge these sins, and make efforts to shepherd more like Jesus.
Every time I think I’ve outsinned my sons’ ability to forgive me, they astound me with their grace. Trust between pastors and scattered sheep can be rebuilt, but it must begin with repentance. Anything other than this puts the onus for returning on the ones who are most vulnerable, most wounded, and most afraid. Genuine repentance communicates to scattered sheep that their shepherds are honest, their shepherds are sorry, and their shepherds want to make the pasture safe.
Asking For Me 
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