I know them, and they follow me
In this week’s Gospel John 10: 27-30, Jesus uses the metaphor of a shepherd and his sheep to describe the relationship between him and his followers. In yesterday’s post we reflected on his words ‘the sheep that belong to me listen to my voice’ and today we contemplate his follow up phrase ‘I know them and they follow me.’
One element of the metaphor that resonated with me is it’s dynamism. Our relationship with Jesus is not a static one. There is a fluidity about it. I imagine a shepherd herding his sheep as they travel along the countryside in search of grazing. The shepherd speaks to the sheep, calling them this way and that. He knows each sheep and they follow him.
This image of movement speaks deeply to the Christian journey. To follow Jesus is to be in motion—sometimes across rugged terrain, sometimes through green pastures, but always with our eyes and ears fixed on the one who leads us. His knowledge of us is not distant or generic; it is intimate and personal. He knows our fears, our tendencies to stray, our need for reassurance.
He calls us—not once, but continually. Each day presents a fresh invitation to trust his voice and take the next step, even when the path is unclear. There are risks along the way: wolves, cliffs, jagged rocks, poisonous grass, sudden thunderstorms. Sometimes we stray mindlessly, distracted by what seems greener or easier. Other times, we resist out of fear or weariness.
In the contemporary world, the hazards may look different, but they are no less real. As an itinerant trainer and now also an evangelist, I find myself constantly on the move—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. My green fields are found by travelling along highways, waiting in airports, trying to meet decision makers, making appeals for donations, visiting parishes, homes and retreat centres, each with its own challenges and distractions.
In the midst of this busyness, I must pause and discern where He is leading me. Like the sheep, I search for green pastures—places where souls are hungry and hearts are ready, where I too can be nourished even as I serve. It is a daily act of trust to follow Him into unfamiliar terrain, believing that He knows the way, and that even in the most barren places, He can lead me to green pasture.
Friend, probably you find yourself in a similar situation. You are on the move—either physically, navigating the demands of work, family, and life’s transitions, or psychologically, wrestling with questions of purpose, direction, and identity. In both cases, the journey can feel disorienting and the path unclear. But take heart: the same Shepherd who calls me calls you.
He knows you—your name, your needs, your longings—and He is already walking ahead of you. The invitation is the same: to pause, listen, and trust. Trust that even in your uncertainty, He is guiding you toward what is life-giving and true. So today, let us recommit ourselves to following His voice with courage and hope. For wherever He leads, even through valleys or unknown paths, He walks with us—and that is our peace.