“I Am the Good Shepherd”: Power Redefined

I recently taught on the Beatitudes and was reminded just how radically countercultural the values of the Kingdom are—and where true blessing is found. It’s not the strong or the prominent, but the meek, the poor in spirit, and those persecuted for the sake of mercy who are called blessed. Our world—and the systems within it—function through domination, control, and the protection of power. But this is not how we understand cross-shaped power.

Power, from the perspective of Jesus, is the Spirit-empowered capacity to serve others in love, steward influence with humility, and leverage authority not for control, but for the flourishing of those entrusted to our care.

Jesus defined and modeled leadership power—not as dominance, flexing strength, or hierarchy, but as downward mobility: kneeling to wash feet, embracing the cross, and lifting others up. For the Good Shepherd, power is not the right to be obeyed, but the responsibility to protect, guide, and lay down one’s life for the sheep.

When I witness leaders who claim to shepherd but operate in ways that contradict the way of Jesus, I’m drawn to John 10. In that moment—during the time of The Festival of Dedication—Jesus declares Himself the Good Shepherd, and His words would have stirred the memory of Ezekiel 34 in the hearts of His listeners. That prophetic passage contains one of the most searing indictments in Scripture against unfaithful shepherds—leaders who used their position for self-gain, ignored the weak, and exploited the vulnerable.

But Ezekiel 34 doesn’t end with judgment. It carries a promise of divine intervention and tender restoration. God says:

“I myself will search for my sheep and look after them. As a shepherd looks after his scattered flock when he is with them, so will I look after my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a day of clouds and darkness.” (Ezekiel 34:11–12)

It’s powerful to consider that, in the very moment when Ezekiel 34 would have been resonating in the minds of His listeners, Jesus makes a bold declaration: “I am the good shepherd” (John 10:11a). This isn’t just a metaphor—it’s the fulfillment of God’s ancient promise to His people. And what sets this Shepherd apart is His understanding of power. He continues, “The good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep” (John 10:11b).

Jesus draws a sharp contrast between Himself and those who fail the flock. He doesn’t even call them shepherds—He calls them hired hands. He says:

“The hired hand is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it. The man runs away because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep” (John 10:12–13).

In other words, the hired hand sacrifices the sheep to save himself. But the Good Shepherd sacrifices Himself to save the sheep. This is the contrast Jesus draws—and it’s striking when we consider how toxic and abusive leaders and systems operate today. Far too often, even within our own communities, leaders operate in ways that bear little resemblance to Jesus.

I spend much of my time walking alongside churches, organizations, and survivors of religious trauma. I provide consultation and training to help faith communities build safer systems and respond to abuse disclosures and allegations in a victim-centered, trauma-informed way. One very recent and sobering statistic stood out to me:

“(With those who participated) 100% of survivors report institutional betrayal in new clergy abuse study.”

— Elisabeth Arnold Ingram, Doctoral Student in Counseling Psychology, Oklahoma State University

CSM Research Insights, July 2025 Digest

(Institutional betrayal refers to the harm caused when an institution fails to prevent or properly respond to wrongdoing—especially toward those who trust it.)

This shows that it is tragically common for survivors of clergy abuse to be sacrificed in order to protect the leader, the institution, or the illusion of power. But this is not the way of Jesus. This is the way of the hired hand.

If we are to lead in the way of Jesus—if we are to steward power rightly—then we must choose the costly path of love. We must lift others up, protect the vulnerable, speak for those who cannot speak for themselves, and center victims and survivors of abuse in our systems. Like Jesus, it will cost us something. But if we truly believe people are beloved of God, then their care and protection is worth everything.

By: David Ruybalid


David Ruybalid is a pastor at Life Church in Peoria, AZ, and a passionate advocate for survivors of religious trauma. As a survivor himself, he equips churches and organizations to build safer, trauma-informed spaces. A frequent speaker, writer, and podcast guest, David addresses the intersection of theology, trauma, and healing. He created the course Sexual Abuse and the Church in partnership with Danielle Strickland and www.deepwideacademy.com and helped launch The Religious Trauma Network in 2024.

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What Does Power Look Like in the Hands of Jesus?