“Jesus the leg-breaker” is a more persistent tale than I expected.  I decided not to give it short shrift.

I am the beautiful shepherd,^[1] Jesus said.  Did He mean to turn my attention to Him or to human shepherds?  Do I know Him through the Bible?  Or should I study shepherd lore and apply it to Him?  In a blog titled “The Good Shepherd Breaks Their Legs,” Pastor Robin Weinstein quoted the following story from another blog:

According to the story, if a lamb has a tendency to wander off, the shepherd will actually break one of its legs. He then tends the broken leg – puts a splint on it and binds it up. Then while the leg is mending, he carries it on his shoulder. According to the anecdote, once the sheep heals, it will follow the shepherd, close at his side, the rest of its life. Never again go astray [because now it knows the voice and guidance of its shepherd].

“But, this story is not in the Bible, you say,” was the apparently grudging admission, followed by a Bible verse “that runs parallel” to the story.

How enviable is the man whom God corrects. Oh, do not despise the chastening of the Lord when you sin. For though he wounds, he binds and heals once again. Job 5:17,18

The reasoning here goes something like this: The word of God is true.  The Bible is the word of God.  Job 5:17 and 18 are in the Bible, so they are true and the word of God.  It is a compelling argument and does seem to correspond to the shepherd story.  But in the book of Job in the Bible these words are not the word of y^ehôvâh:  “How enviable is the man whom God corrects.  Oh, do not despise the chastening of the Lord when you sin.  For though he wounds, he binds and heals once again,” are the words of Eliphaz the Temanite.  In the book of Job y^ehôvâh spoke the following to Eliphaz the Temanite about Eliphaz’s words (Job 42:7 NET).

After the Lord (y^ehôvâh) had spoken (dâbar, דבר; Septuagint: λαλῆσαι) these things to Job, he (y^ehôvâh [added again for emphasis, I assume]) said to Eliphaz the Temanite, “My anger is stirred up against you and your two friends, because you have not spoken (dâbar,  דברתם; Septuagint: ἐλαλήσατε) about me what is right, as my servant Job has.”

On my way back from atheism, as I essentially rejected the Gospel thinking of it as a second chance to do righteousness by obeying the Bible as rules, I met a man who wanted to produce the book of Job as a play.  I don’t remember now if he asked me to set it to music or if I had the competing idea to write it as an opera.  As I studied, intending to make the book of Job the libretto for an opera, I was perplexed by what fault God found with the words of Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite.

I could see that their empathy for Job might have been off a bit, but their words seemed more or less like the religious teaching I had heard my whole life.  Wishing that y^ehôvâh had been more specific, I abandoned the project.  Even now, given this lack of specificity, I am not wise enough to quote anything Eliphaz said as proof of anything in the light of y^ehôvâh’s anger (Job 42:8 NET):

So now take seven bulls and seven rams [y^ehôvâh, speaking to Eliphaz, continued] and go to my servant Job and offer a burnt offering for yourselves.  And my servant Job will intercede for you, and I will respect him, so that I do not deal with you according to your folly, because you have not spoken (dâbar,  דברתם; Septuagint: ἐλαλήσατε) about me what is right, as my servant Job has.

“God will chasten and correct us,” the writer of the original blog continued.  So far, so good: For whom the Lord loves He chastens (παιδεύει, a form of παιδεύω), And scourges (μαστιγοῖ, a form of μαστιγόω) every son whom He receives.^[2]  But the writer of the original blog added, “if we stray.”  And that is probably the reason he quoted Eliphaz the Temanite from the book of Job rather than the writer of the book of Hebrews.  The writer of the book of Hebrews wasn’t writing to those who strayed but to those who were tempted to stray because of the opposition or contradiction, the ἀντιλογίαν (a form of ἀντιλογία; literally, “to speak against”) of sinners that they encountered while trusting Christ (Hebrews 12:5-7a NET):

And have you forgotten the exhortation addressed to you as sons?  “My son, do not scorn the Lord’s discipline (παιδείας, a form of παιδεία) or give up when he corrects you.  “For the Lord disciplines the one he loves and chastises every son he accepts.”  Endure your suffering as discipline (παιδείαν, a form of παιδεία) …

The faithful, as opposed to those who stray, are called to endure the ἀντιλογίαν of sinners as God’s παιδείαν (a form of παιδεία).  Currently in the U.S. this ἀντιλογίαν is mostly ridicule and rarely μαστιγόω as was common in the first century (and beyond).  But it is fairly clear that the faithful should perceive and receive the ἀντιλογίαν of sinners in whatever form as παιδείαν from God (Hebrews 12:7b, 8 NET):

God is treating you as sons.  For what son is there that a father does not discipline (παιδεύει, a form of παιδεύω)?  But if you do not experience discipline (παιδείας, another form of παιδεία), something all sons have shared in, then you are illegitimate and are not sons.

A comparison and contrast follow between earthly fathers and the Father of spirits which might be confusing if not treated carefully:

If the παιδεία of one’s father consisted mostly of punishment for doing wrong it is easy to mistake punishment for the Father of spirits’ παιδεία.  But the παιδεία of the Father of spirits comes at the mouth (and possibly at the hands) of sinners for doing right rather than wrong.  The writer of the book of Hebrews continued (Hebrews 12:11-13 NET):

Now all discipline (παιδεία) [whether for doing wrong or for doing right] seems painful at the time, not joyful. But later it [the παιδεία from the Father of spirits for doing right] produces the fruit of peace and righteousness for those trained by it.  Therefore, strengthen your listless hands and your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but be healed.

This is the experience of the faithful, not the unfaithful, and not a word about breaking legs.  But Deacon Del Gibbs, the original blogger, wrote:

God will chasten and correct us if we stray. You say yep, I could write the book? Been there, done that?  But it is for our good. And trust me, the pain is better than the alternative – becoming lamb chops on Satan’s dinner table. 

Is this his personal experience of Jesus?

No.  He never strayed.  “You see,” he wrote, “I had not been saved out of sin but God saved me from going into it.”  In Romans 1 people who did not glorify…God or give him thanks, who exchanged the glory of the immortal God for an image resembling mortal human beings or birds or four-footed animals or reptiles, were given over by God in the desires of their hearts to impurity, to dishonor their bodies among themselves.^[3]  The implication here is that apart from this God would keep them from this sin.

People who exchanged the truth of God for a lie and worshiped and served the creation rather than the Creator, were given over by God to dishonorable passions.^[4]  Again the implication is that apart from this God would keep them from this sin.  Likewise people who did not see fit to acknowledge God, were given over by God to a depraved mind, to do what should not be done.^[5]  Once again the implication is that apart from this God would keep them from these sins.  Mr. Gibbs continued:

I can testify of God’s strength that helps me live victoriously.  Of his patience and forgiveness for the times I’m slow to catch on.  And when I stub my toe and fall on my face, I can tell how He reaches out and helps me to my feet once again.

That sounds so much better to me as something to say to one who has strayed than threats about Jesus the leg-breaker.  You see, I have strayed.  You might say I went looking for the smiting, leg-breaking Jesus I was taught about, at least I dared Him to act.  And I became an atheist when He refused to live up to his bad press.

The good thing about becoming an atheist, however, is that I couldn’t blame God for my problems any more.  They were definitely my problems, brought about by the sins that I thought were my freedom, even my right, the very things Paul called the wrath of God…revealed from heaven,^[6] the things I couldn’t quit even after I began to want to quit them.

The kicker here is that Mr. Gibbs’ father, raised on a sheep ranch in Montana, couldn’t even confirm the alleged shepherd lore: “My Dad says he didn’t do it,” his blog post began.  “He just got out the 22, and that night they had mutton stew.”  The reasoning here goes something like this: Jesus the leg-breaker would be better than Del’s father the killer and eater.

But that unmasks the whole thing, doesn’t it?  Why does a human shepherd care for the flock at all?  Is it not so the flock is available to be fleeced, milked and eaten?  Is that what Jesus meant when He called Himself the beautiful shepherd?  Is this, too, part of the shepherd lore I should apply to Him?  Jesus said:

Frankly, I think I might write-off the one who strayed rather than risk the others.  But then, I’m not a shepherd.  I don’t really know the value of a sheep.  (And  I’m not omnipresent.)  So I must take Jesus at his word here.

Again, I have no direct way to corroborate this, but must take Jesus at his word.

This is clearly beyond my experience.   I haven’t amounted to much, nothing that would cause anyone to say, “Ah, I understand why Jesus went out of his way to save him.”  But He did.  As far as I’m concerned, the only plausible explanation is to take Jesus at his word: your Father in heaven is not willing (θέλημα) that one of these little ones be lost.