Discovering Who Jesus Is: Seven Days on the Seven I Am StatementsSample

Nine and a Half Fingers

Barbershop conversations are one of the simple pleasures of life. The way men so freely dialogue with perfect strangers in that environment is a thing of beauty. Cars. Projects. Adventures. Kids. Work. Conspiracy theories. It’s pretty predictable and often mindless, but it is enjoyable. As long as it doesn’t get political.

I was sitting in the chair at the barbershop one Saturday morning when a man walked in and plopped down. He was in his fifties, short, stout, and had a friendly disposition. He had long, shoulder-length, silvery gray hair. “I’m cutting it all off,” he announced.

My barber and this newcomer, who had introduced himself as Tony, began talking. My interest was piqued when in passing, Tony mentioned that he had just spent a year living in an Airstream trailer seeing the country. This was a curiosity gold mine for me, and my new goal became getting Tony with the long hair to tell all on his cross-country trailer adventure.

And tell he did.

I said, “It sounds amazing, but I would probably need to wait for the kids to move out of the house.”

He piped back, “A divorce worked for me.”

We were deep into his favorite things about his Airstream when the door opened, and another man with shoulder-length hair burst in. He headed straight for the bar (yes, there was one) and poured himself a whiskey (I know, but this is Montana), then plopped down two seats from Tony. The new guy was about the same height as Tony and built like a bulldog. His frame was compact but brawny, and my money was that he was in the construction trade, judging from a build clearly forged from hard work with his hands. Speaking of his hands, I noticed immediately that the pointer finger on his left hand was missing at the middle knuckle. Medical tape over the nub was now the end of that digit. It seemed fresh too. I was done with the Airstream stories and really hoped that I could probe the depths of the mystery of the missing finger by the end of my haircut. But I had to play it cool. Barbershop etiquette. The convo is freewheeling and must not be forced.

New guy and Tony started up a little get-to-know-you banter, but I wasn’t really paying attention; I was too distracted by his finger as he held his whiskey glass. I heard him say his name was Spike at one point and noticed he described himself as a punk-rock skater rat.

I sensed my opportunity for a good finger-amputation story passing as Tony and Spike made small talk, but then out of nowhere, hope revived when Spike said something about the last year being rough because he got some sort of bacterial or viral infection in his hand that ended up being really serious. My ears perked up. Careful to not sound too eager, I asked if that was what had caused the injury on his left hand. Maybe his finger was taken by some invisible, flesh-eating attack. Now that his hand injuries were on the table, I seized the opportunity.

“Oh, this?” He pointed at me with the stump of his left index finger. “Nah. I cut this off with a table saw a few weeks ago while at work.”

“Oh man,” I said. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah,” he said as he gestured with a jerking motion. “I sneezed while making a cut and cut it right off. It was one hell of a sneeze,” he explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

Jackpot. This was now one of the best barbershop stories I have ever heard.

He added, “Crazy thing is, I heard it before I felt it. After the sneeze, I realized the saw made a funny noise like it was struggling to cut through something, but I didn’t feel anything right away. But when I looked down, the finger was cut off and hanging on by the skin.”

I didn’t want any more details like that or I would get woozy. Still, I asked, “What did you do? Put it in milk?” He went on to talk all about the phantom sensations, the lack of depth perception with his new finger, and other such stories.

Just then, my haircut ended. I said goodbye to my barber, Tony, and Spike, and I went on my way. I thought of them both as I walked toward my car. And they both have come to mind this week. Tony, because I have seen multiple Airstreams on the road, Spike because it’s spring, and I have been sneezy with all the pollen in the air. I don’t often use power tools, but it definitely put the fear of God in me about ever coming close to one without first having taken my Claritin.

I tell you this story for two reasons. One, because it’s just a really good opportunity for me to tell you this crazy story that I couldn’t just keep to myself. And two, because it got me thinking how every person has a story, life experiences, long days, celebrations, journeys across the country, pains and heartaches, and everything in between. So do you. You are not just a number to your heavenly Father. Not just one of the trillions who have lived. He knows your name. And he wants to have a relationship with you. He cares about Tony and his divorce. Spike and his finger injury. Every good and bad thing you have faced matters to him.

You have a Shepherd, and he cares for you.

In calling himself a shepherd, Jesus was telling us that he is going to take care of us. To have a shepherd looking after you is to have someone completely devoted to you. Endless attention and meticulous care—that is what shepherds give to their sheep. Night and day, shepherds are on call. David chased down a bear and a lion to protect his sheep (1 Sam. 17:34–36). That’s what Jesus will do for you.

But what about the fact that he called himself a gate? Middle Eastern sheep pens in those days would have been circular enclosures with a gap used for entry and no door. The shepherd would use these communal enclosures for the night and, after feeding and watering the flock, would lead them in. He would be the last to enter and would lie down in the opening.

Jesus is a shepherd and a door because in this context the shepherd is the door. He would lay down his life for the sheep, metaphorically and literally. The message was clear to the wolf and every other predator out there: You first have to go through me to get these sheep.

That is what your Savior did for you on the cross. No one took his life from him. He laid it down freely.

You are free to enter through the door. You have in-and-out privileges. Come in and out and have good pasture. Listen to his voice. Call his name when you are in trouble.

Even if it’s been a while and you are ashamed and feel bad. He will put you on his shoulders and sing and rejoice that you have been found (Luke 15:5). He loves you.

You’ve heard that before, haven’t you? That God loves you? You might push back on that: “Yeah, yeah, Levi. He loves the whole world.”

He does. But it’s not just the world. It’s you. He knows and loves you.

Response

Is there an area you’ve been holding back on account of you thinking the issue doesn’t matter to God? That it’s too small? That He has bigger fish to fry? Bring it to God today!

Prayer

Lord, thank you that you see me, that you care about me, and that you love me. Help me walk in the confidence and assurance that I’m loved by the God of the universe.