Jesus My Shepherd
Welcome, friend! Grateful you’re here—may these words draw you closer to His heart.
A little about this piece - "My Shepherd is Greater than the Wolf" was written during my first year as a newly graduated nurse. During this time, I got a little taste of what Paul meant when he wrote 2 Corinthians 4:7-5, "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed."
Here's the backstory to this poetic story:
I was going through a tough season—a season of transition and obedience. God asked me to leave Arizona, the place where I was born and raised, and move to California. I left behind everything I knew—my family, my friends, my entire support system—to follow His call. And when I said yes, He didn't lead me into comfort; He led me straight into the fire.
Before becoming a nurse, I had worked for roughly six years as a CNA in a skilled nursing facility in Mesa, Arizona. It was hard, especially as a follower of Christ—I thought that job was suffering. So before I moved to California and graduated from RN school, I prayed a particular prayer: 'God, please don't make me go to another nursing home.'
His only response was Jeremiah 12:5:
"If you have raced with men on foot and they have worn you out, how can you compete with horses? If you stumble in safe country, how will you manage in the thickets by the Jordan?"
I didn't fully understand it at the time—but I do now.
When I arrived in California, I was yet again placed in a post-acute nursing facility as a brand-new nurse. And it was one of the hardest things I've ever walked through. I had over 38 patients to care for every day—alone. One inexperienced nurse, trying to meet not just their physical needs, but also their emotional and spiritual ones. It was never enough. There was no real support or mentorship; my coworkers only looked out for themselves, many of them just trying to make it through and survive their own hellish shift. I was expected to "hit the ground running" with little to no orientation. Many of my patients had complex medical needs with high acuity, and I had no backup, maybe one CNA if I was lucky. If something went wrong, it was on me alone, under pressure, and undertrained. In that high-stress environment, the team morale was trash. I faced bullying from overworked coworkers, blame from management, and anger from families and patients.
"Sink or swim" is the unspoken motto.
But low morale and negativity from others, just as miserable as I was, were the least of my worries. The biggest obstacle for me to overcome and trust God with was the risk of making medical errors that could have cost someone their life, and most definitely my nursing license, which I had worked so hard for. I was exhausted, distracted, and undertrained. Mistakes—such as medication errors, missed assessments, or documentation lapses—seemed to happen all too easily. And guess what? The liability was all mine. Even if I was never trained properly and was left alone, I knew I would still be held legally and ethically responsible for everything I do or fail to do during my shift. Licensing boards, employers, and families don't care that you are new and unsupported. After a while, I Stopped Feeling Like a Nurse. I got into the profession to help people. But I ended up just trying to survive each shift. It was so hard to build relationships or practice holistic care with my patients when passing pills and putting out fires was all you had time to do (literally getting the time to go pee was a luxury). It felt like factory work, not nursing.
I cried every single morning on my way to work, already overwhelmed by what the day would bring. And every night, I sat in silence on the way home—numb, drained, and questioning how I'd survive another day. The weight was unbearable. I was working over 60 hours every week and was constantly being called in on my days off. We were marginally understaffed, and I was just another warm body. The shifts were long with no time for breaks. I skipped meals just to try to catch up on my workload. The day was constant stress. Emotionally draining doesn't even begin to describe it - the residents declined, families were upset, and management downplayed all my concerns. I went home feeling like you failed as a nurse and a Christian every single shift.
By all accounts, that job should have broken me.
But it didn't—because Jesus kept me. He was with me in the fire. He was my shepherd, my strength, and my defender. He guided me, protected me, and sustained me when I had absolutely nothing left to give. Without Him, that place might have destroyed me… It should have sent me running back to Arizona with my tail tucked between my legs, and if it were up to just me, I absolutely would have! I remember crying and begging Jesus in the bathroom ON MY FIRST DAY to supernaturally cause my new boss to fire me (oh, the drama). But thank God Jesus never let me go. He carried me through it all.
I still remember the first week walking into that nursing home—bright-eyed but unsure, barely out of school, and already feeling in over my head. The place was overwhelmed, understaffed, and weighed down by weariness. The halls echoed with the sound of call lights and hurried footsteps, as well as the voices of more than one disgruntled patient. Every shift felt like an impossible mountain to climb. I was just one brand-new nurse, expected to carry more than I thought I ever could.
But I wasn't alone.
I began praying every morning before my shift—sometimes just a whisper in the car, sometimes a desperate cry in the supply room when no one was watching. I found strength in the moments when I surrendered the chaos to God, and somehow, He met me there in the midst of the noise. I began singing hymns out loud—softly at first, as I passed medications, sometimes under my breath as I charted or walked down the hall. Then louder. Clearer. I had no idea at first that I was singing so loudly until my coworkers started asking me if I ever stopped singing, and patients began slipping in little compliments here and there about enjoying the song I sang outside their rooms. My shift became a rhythm: "Great is Thy Faithfulness" between med passes, "It Is Well" while documenting wound care, "How Great Thou Art" on the way to check vitals.
And something started to shift.
Not just in me—but around me.
Coworkers I never expected to open up started talking about God. Some asked questions, some shared stories of church days long past. One CNA told me my singing reminded her of church, and before I knew it, we were praying together in an empty room. Another nurse, who always seemed so hardened, broke down in tears one evening after a particularly rough shift. I asked her if I could pray for her, and right then and there, we bowed our heads, holding hands, praying in the middle of the nurses' station. She hugged me so tightly, and while I don't know what the prayer meant to her, I knew we both had new strength and hope to go a little further.
It wasn't me. It was Jesus, walking the halls with me.
Even when I was pressed for time, God seemed to open doors—quiet, holy moments to minister to patients on the edge of life, to offer a word of comfort to their families, or simply to listen. I stopped seeing the job as just "making it through" the shift. I began to see each moment as an assignment from heaven—a mission field.
There were still hard days. There were still tears, exhaustion, and moments I prayed to quit. But God didn't let go of me. And somewhere in that furnace of pressure and prayer, I changed.
I became a better nurse—more confident, more compassionate, more capable. I learned how to handle stress and chaos without losing my peace. I found courage I didn't know I had. But more than that, I became a stronger Christian. My faith, once timid and hesitant, has become bold. Solid. Alive.
Things I once thought were out of reach—both in nursing and in faith—are now within my grasp. Not because I'm stronger, but because He was strong for me.
Looking back, I would never have chosen that path for myself. If I had known the suffering, the sleepless nights, the spiritual battles—I might've run the other way. But now, standing here on the other side, I wouldn't change a thing.
Because I saw God move in ways I never imagined.
Because lives were touched.
Because my heart was transformed.
And because through every wound and every victory, He made me new
And through that season, I learned what it truly means to depend on Jesus one breath at a time. I learned how to trust Him—not just with words, but with my whole life. When everything else was stripped away, He proved Himself faithful. He didn't just get me through it—He transformed me in it.
God took me to depths I never would have endured on my own, but the fruits that came from arising from those very depths are irreplaceable! Now, on the other side of the testing, I stand - triumphant and transfigured a little more into the image of Jesus.
I pray that what you are about to read both encourages and comforts you in your own times of trial and fire. If he can lead a hard head like me through it he is more than able and undoubtedly willing to lead you through it too! may you trust in God more for He is trustworthy, may you always depend on him for he is dependable, and may your heart victoriously sing "It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes [statutes: the detailed, specific instructions of, and on how to apply, The foundational principles of God]" (Psalm 119:71). In the mighty name of our good shepherd, Jesus
Amen.
“My Shepherd is Greater than the Wolf”
I live among the wolves, clad in the wilderness of untamed destiny. The forest is dark with fearful furrows that widdle themselves through the tall surrounding trees. In the confusion of this unfamiliar landscape, a wolf cries. A piercing and bizarre sound to the ears. The odd medley of stretched howls, yips, and yelps barked out in alarm can be heard through all nightly hours. Whimpers and whines cascade over your senses, irritating the nerves already on edge. Some only know the wolf by their infamous howl, but I have come to learn that the wolves have an extensive repertoire of sounds. The eeriest of all the vocalizations that I have heard a wolf make is a bleating.
Matthew 7:15-20), "Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. You will know them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorns, or figs from thistles? So, every sound tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears evil fruit. A sound tree cannot bear evil fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus you will know them by their fruits."
A sound originated from their own wolfish hearts and minds, filling you with false hope. They speak of loyalty. Signifying family, communication, wisdom, financial gain, and intelligence. But truly, their only loyalty lies within their own self-interests. They don’t tell you what is right. They seek only to bring more confusion to the already disorienting situation. Baa and bleat of nice things… of lies. They promise peace when truly it is destruction that approaches—panting out false visions, divinations, idolatries, and the delusions of their own minds.
Yes, I live among the wolves. I live among ravenous appetites, deceptive body language, and vehement speech. But I do not live among them alone. I know the one who has called me out into this wilderness to behold Him, to worship Him. The terrain is unfamiliar, and the inhabitants are disingenuous. I am often afraid and uncertain. I have become acquainted with new portions of agony and stress. But again, I am reminded that I am not the only one. I am not defenseless. My shepherd guards me with His life. He has led me to this land, and I know He loves me more than a hired hand.
John 10:11-15, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep.
I know the wolves fear my protector more than I fear their bite. His rod and staff are truly a comfort to me. I may still hear their pitchy melodies carried through the furrows and trees around me, but an empty threat is all it is. I know they will keep their distance as I lie under His wing. His word guards my heart against the clamor of the wolves that echo in the dark valley.
Psalm 23
“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me beside quiet waters,
He refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
They comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup overflows.
Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord
Forever.”
Lord, my vision is small. Forgive me for my hesitancy in stepping out. This new place you have brought me to is hard. But I know you will not forsake me. You will sustain me here, and I will worship you here in the land I am living in. I will behold you here. And sing of your great character. I lift my eyes to the Holy One. To the one who is worthy. May every false, lying wolf be put to death in my life until only Your truth remains. Guard me from false prophets and disappointment. Keep me, O’God, that I might not stray from Your folds of love.
I lift my eyes to where my help comes from, O Mighty One of Israel. You have done it for them. I know You will do it for me. You died not for that nation only, but also that You should gather together in one the children of God that were scattered abroad. You alone have fought back the wolves and won. From generation to generation, You are faithful. I will trust in just that. My God, I know You hear my prayers and are swift to comfort my cries. I will rest in your arms and await Your timing for the plans over my life. I love You, Jesus. No one could ever take your place in my life, in my heart, or in my mind. I belong to You, and I love that. I only want room for the good fruits You have set aside for me to bear, and I only want Your good and faithful treasures to be stored up in my heart. In Jesus’ mighty and precious name, Amen.