In John 10, Jesus calls himself the shepherd, and we are his sheep—the ones who hear his voice and follow. It’s a tender, comforting image, one that pairs beautifully with the opening of Psalm 23: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”
But in the same passage, Jesus adds another layer: “I am the gate for the sheep.”
Not the gatekeeper.
Not the fence or the wall.
Not the watchdog.
And certainly not the thief who comes to steal.
Jesus is the gate—the point of entry. Through him, we step from one reality into another.
Whenever I read this, I’m reminded of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, Missouri. My husband and I lived and served in the St. Louis area for about six and a half years before coming here four years ago. His church was in Ferguson, in North St. Louis County, while I served St. Stanislaus Polish Catholic Church downtown, just minutes from the Arch. We were practically in its shadow.
If you’ve never seen the Gateway Arch, it is truly something to behold. Rising 630 feet into the sky, it is the tallest arch in the world. Built sixty years ago, it stands as the “Gateway to the West,” a monument to the United States’ westward expansion.
For anyone driving through St. Louis, the Arch is a striking reminder of a moment in history when people stepped into a new reality, seeking abundance and opportunity. That journey required courage—because it was also filled with danger, disease, disaster, and death.
And we must also remember that westward expansion brought devastating consequences for Indigenous peoples. The Arch, for all its beauty, represents a threshold that was not good news for everyone. Still, it marks a historic crossing point, a symbolic welcome into the American West, and it gives St. Louis an unmistakable identity.
Jesus, too, is a gateway—but in a profoundly different way, with profoundly different results. He is not the threshold into the old American West, but into the newness of God’s reality. Through him, we receive an identity—not as citizens of a region, but as people who know his voice and enter through him.
He does not call us to bravery in the face of physical danger. Instead, he offers spiritual safety, abundant life, and a way of being that is good news for everyone. No one must be displaced so that others may enter. The gate of Jesus is open wide.
So as we step through this gate—from one reality into another—we are invited to ask:
Who is leading us?
What voices do we follow?
And what kind of “expansion” are we pursuing—territorial or spiritual?
Life with God is not found by heading in a certain direction on a map. It doesn’t require climbing walls, forcing our way in, or listening to voices that promise shortcuts. Life with God is found by entering through the Gate, Jesus Christ—through his way of love, truth, and self-giving.
The Gate is open.
Enter freely.
Find safety.
Find abundance.
Amen.
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