Listen to Jacob describe his twenty years of brutal labor to Laban: "Whatever was torn by wild animals, I never brought it to you as proof. I took the loss myself. You demanded payment from me whether it was stolen in broad daylight or under cover of darkness. This was my life: scorching heat consumed me by day, freezing cold by night, and sleep fled from my eyes."

But even Jacob's backbreaking toil was nothing compared to what our Savior endured for us. He watched over every one of his sheep until he could give his final report: "Of all those you gave me, I have lost none." His hair was soaked with dew, his beard dripping with the moisture of the night. Sleep fled from his eyes because he spent entire nights wrestling in prayer for his people. One night, he's pleading for Peter. The next, another disciple needs his tearful intercession.

No shepherd shivering beneath cold stars, no matter how bitter his complaints about the hardness of his work, could ever match what Jesus could have said—if he had chosen to complain—about the crushing weight of his service. All to win his bride! "Cold mountains and the midnight air witnessed the fervor of his prayer; the desert his temptations knew, his conflict and his victory too."

Now think about this beautiful parallel: Laban demanded that Jacob answer for every single sheep. If wild beasts tore one apart, Jacob had to pay. If one died, Jacob stood as guarantor for the whole flock. Isn't this exactly what Jesus did for his Church? He labored under an ironclad obligation—a suretyship—to deliver every single believer safely into the hands of the Father who entrusted them to him.

Look at Jacob, exhausted, working himself to the bone for a bride. You're looking at a living picture of the one about whom it was written: "He will feed his flock like a shepherd."