For a hundred and fifty years, the Jewish people celebrated the Festival of Dedication, or Hanukkah, in remembrance of the heroic exploits of Judas Maccabaeus. Against all odds, he'd led a guerrilla uprising that recaptured Jerusalem from a powerful Greek army and rededicated the Temple to the worship of God. As Roman soldiers look down from the Fortress of Antonia, Jesus circles the temple. The crowd closes in. "Tell us plainly," they demanded. They're impatient. They want a warrior-leader who will defeat Rome. And here's a miracle worker who claims to be from God. Will he take us where we want to go? When I was an undergraduate at Rhodes College, I wanted to go to law school or grad school. A career as a lawyer or a professor seemed promising. But God kept making it extremely clear: raise support and go into campus ministry. So, I kept praying and asking for his guidance. I wasn't confused about God's will. I just wanted it to change. Jesus could have told me what he told them: "I did tell you and you don't believe." A man was born blind. Then light filled his eyes, and he could see. The evidence pointed to Jesus being the Light of the World. But he called himself a shepherd, not a general. He pledged to lay down his life and refused to take up a sword. This wasn't the Messiah they'd ordered. It's winter in Jerusalem. Then Jesus says something that should stop us cold: "You don't believe because you are not my sheep." The problem isn't a lack of belief but a lack of belonging. They are willing to go to war for Israel. But Jesus is asking them to surrender their lives to God. The challenge is that what we want limits what we can see. They want a political liberator. But Jesus explains, "I and the Father are one." They want a general; Jesus tells them he is a shepherd. They want independence from the hands of Rome. Jesus invites them to be secure in his Father's hands. As the crowd clutches stones, Jesus and his Father are holding their sheep.