Finally, Some Good News

“Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” 
(Psalm 23:6)

There is so much discouraging news floating around out there. That’s why over the last month, we’ve been slowly working through Psalm 23 – the Shepherd’s Psalm. It is a cry of trust written from the perspective of a sheep towards his shepherd. And it closes in much the same was as it opens: with a declaration of joyful contentment from one who rests under the capable care of the Good Shepherd.

The first verse declares, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I have everything I need.”

The final verse declares, “Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever!”


I don’t know about you, but whenever I read about dwelling in the Lord’s house forever, my mind automatically goes to the throne-room of Heaven. After all, that’s where God resides, right? So if I want to be in His presence, I need to go where He is.

And this leads me to interpret David’s statement as a “some day” declaration. Some day I will finally be with God in heaven. Some day I will finally leave this broken world, full of pain and heartache and disappointment.

Someday.

But that implies that I can’t dwell in God’s house now. I’m stuck here in my house, with kids that don’t want to do their distance learning, snacks that keep begging me to add to my ‘dad-bod,’ and a virus that quietly stalks our streets. Oh joy!

But what if I’ve been reading this wrong all these years? What if my Western-interpretation of what David means by “the house of the Lord” has actually obscured the immediacy of his joy?

I turn one last time to the words of Philip Keller, whose insights gleaned from years as a shepherd have proven invaluable to our journey through the Shepherd’s Psalm. He explains that the Shepherd’s house isn’t referring to a physical home, like a church building or even to heaven itself. Rather, “what is referred to by ‘house’ is the family or household or flock of the Good Shepherd.”

In other words, coming into the house of the Lord means coming under His ownership and finding rest in His care. And as we’ve seen all throughout Psalm 23, David already considers himself to be under the care of the Good Shepherd. He resides in the presence of the Lord, regardless of whether he lays in the green pastures or walks through the dark valleys of life. He says that no matter what my circumstances, my heart is at peace because “You are with me.”

And that means we don’t need to wait until we die to find rest in the house - or the care - of the Lord. We can rest under His loving and capable hands here and now, even in the midst of this sin-scarred world.

Now, I should mention that there are other shepherds out there, and they're not nearly as good. Peter warned us that “we are slaves to whatever has mastered us.” (2 Peter 2:19) That means some of us are slaves to our ambition, others to our appetites, and still others to our anxiety. These are just a few of the many cruel owners in whose flock we might find ourselves. They are demanding masters who are never satisfied and couldn’t care less about our well-being. Many of us have labored under their judgmental gaze far too long, and our efforts left us spiritually emaciated.

But we don’t need to live under the heavy hand of these cruel and heartless taskmasters for the rest of our lives. We don’t have to futilely search for our identity or scratch our meager sustenance from their desolate fields any longer. Jesus made a way for us to enter the care – or house – of the Good Shepherd whenever we choose. 

No, we don’t have to jump the fence. We couldn’t do that if we wanted to. Nor do we need to earn the right to become one of his sheep by doing impressive things to help us stand out from the rest of the haggard sheep. There really are no barbed-wire hoops to jump through at all. Because Jesus made a way into our Heavenly Father’s fields.

Let me rephrase that – Jesus IS the way into our Heavenly Father’s fields.

Don’t take my word for it. Jesus said so himself: “I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out, and find pasture.” (John 10:9).

That means the cross isn’t just good news for when we die; it’s good news for us here and now in this sin-scarred world. Because Jesus laid down his life to make a way for us to come back to our Father’s flock. We don’t need to earn it – that’s what makes it’s a gift.

But this invitation isn’t just for us. It’s also for every other man, woman and child on the planet. So once we enter through the grace-filled gate, once we taste and see that our Father truly is a loving and capable shepherd, then we get to spend our lives roaming the fences, looking for other sheep who desperately need to hear that they don’t need to labor under the heavy hand of their earthly masters any longer. Because His love made a way.

And the best part? No matter how bad the weather gets, no matter how dark the valleys we walk through, the brokenness of this world will never get the last word. We will reside under the loving care of our Creator for all eternity.

And that truly is good news.

What We Leave Behind 

“Surely goodness and mercy will follow me 

all the days of my life.” (Psalm 23:6) 

Psalm 23 has been a declaration of trust from the sheep to his shepherd. And that trust isn’t just arbitrarily ascribed, it’s borne out of a life full of examples of the Shepherd’s care and competency.

Consider what David has declared to be true about his shepherd, and ask yourself, can I say the same?

I have never truly been in want. Even in times of scarcity, you have given me what I need.

Though I tend to run myself ragged, you force me to lie down in green pastures.

When I am tempted to drink from the polluted puddles of life, you lead me to still waters.

Time and again when I have felt discouraged and depleted, you have restored my soul.

Though I resist at times, you have always led me down the right paths.

Even now, as I find myself walking through a dark valley shrouded in the shadow of death, I am not afraid of the evil and brokenness of this world, for I know that I don’t walk alone. You are with me.

You carry the rod to protect me from harm, even self-inflicted harm.

And your Holy Spirit, like a staff, comforts me, encourages me, and reminds me you are near.

You nourish me in the face of those things I fear, and you protect my mind from the pesky thoughts that swarm around me. 

Truly my cup runs over with examples of your goodness and mercy.

And now, as the psalm nears its end, David turns his focus to the fruit of the Good Shepherd’s care.

"Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days if my life." 

According to David, if we are under the Good Shepherd’s care, then we are not only recipients of goodness and mercy, but we get to be conduits of goodness and mercy to the world around us. It’s as if God puts so much blessing into our lives that we simply can’t contain it all; our cup overflows. 

Sounds wonderful. But is it true? I suppose that depends on whose lead we're following. 

One of the many ironies of sheep is that, left to their own devices, they can be incredibly destructive, ripping up grass by the roots and stripping an area bare. However, spread out and well shepherded, they can be incredibly beneficial for the earth. Ancient literature actually referred to sheep as “the golden hoof “ because of the beneficial effect they could have on the land.

Phillip Keller explains the impact his own flocks had on the surrounding countryside: “They left behind something worthwhile, productive, beautiful, and beneficial to both themselves, others, and me. Where they had walked there followed fertility and weed-free land. Where they had lived there remained beauty and abundance.”

Of course this begs the question, Is this true of my life as well?
It’s a worthwhile, albeit uncomfortable question to consider.

• Where I go, do I leave goodness and mercy in my wake?
• Is my life as blessing or a curse to others?
• Do I create peace or conflict?
• Do I stir up joy or anger?
• Do I leave people feeling gratitude or frustration?
• Am I known for what I’m for, or for what I’m against?

The list could go on, but you get the point. What sort of fruit is our life producing? After all, Jesus said you would be able to recognize those who are born of the Spirit by the fruit their lives produce. We're talking about fruit like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness and self-control. The kind of stuff that is nourishing to the soul.

But this sort of fruit doesn’t just grow naturally. It’s a product of God’s Spirit working within us to become more like our Lord. It’s a lifelong process, but the outcome is so much better than anything we could ever produce on our own.

So Jesus lead on. I will follow. Thank you for the unending deluge of goodness and mercy that you pour into my life. And Spirit, do what only you can do in my heart. Nurture spiritual fruit within me so that my sphere of influence will be blessed and I will leave a trail of goodness and mercy in my wake. Amen.

**By the way, I want to share with you a tangible way you can help us spread goodness and mercy in this trying season. This Thursday, April 23, we are looking for 150 volunteers to help distribute food to 1,000 families. To find our more or to sign up to volunteer, go to www.lovecostamesa.org and look for the Project: “Costa Mesa Emergency Response Food Bank.” There is a strong chance this will be happening weekly for the next two months.

A Matter of Perspective

My wife has this saying she uses whenever my boys encounter setback: “Attitude is the difference between an ordeal and an adventure.” In other words, the way we look at something shapes what we see. Are the storms of life a blessing or a curse? It depends on your perspective.

I love my wife's saying. It's profoundly true, but like many of life's truths, it's a little too simplistic. I mean, can't a challenge be both an ordeal AND an adventure? Can't the storms of life bring both blessing AND curse? After all, I love the flowers that grow after the storms have passed, but I hate having to wash my car again.

So our perspective matters, but often what we feel when we walk through a trying time isn't black and white, positive or negative, but a confusing mixture of seemingly contradictory emotions.

Consider the statement GODISNOWHERE. 

What do you see when you read it?
God is Nowhere? How depressing.
God is Now Here? How encouraging!

Truth is, it could be read both ways, and I suspect you read it a couple times and saw both perspectives. I love this statement, because it sums up the confusing, seemingly contradictory nature of this season we find ourselves in.

• The church buildings are closed, and yet the church has been mobilized into our Spheres of Influence.
  

• Supplies are scarce, and yet it's given people opportunity to practice generosity in unique ways. Who could have anticipated that secretly putting toilet-paper on the front of someone's home would one day be seen as an act of love?!
  

• Fear is rampant, but like weights for our muscles, the fear has helped our faith grow stronger.

It’s all a matter of perspective. And our perspective might change from moment to moment. Welcome to life in God’s good, albeit sin-warped creation. In this life, joy and sorrow are close companions. Pain and hope can coexist in the same moment. Fear and faith are not mutually exclusive. And beautiful things grow in the valley of despair.

Let's turn for a moment to Psalm 23. There's an interesting line at the end of verse 5, one that can be read many different ways:

"My cup overflows."

I've often read that line and scratched my head. What do you mean, David? Overflows with what?" Trouble? Blessing? Emotions? If emotions, which ones? Sorrow? Loneliness? Joy? Gratitude?

You get the picture. Like a good poem, this part of Psalm 23 acts as a mirror to our soul, exposing us as much as it exposes David. It invites us to come out of hiding and consider what is welling up inside of us.

So what is your cup overflowing with? 
Frustration? Loneliness? Discouragement? Anger?
Peace? A sense of intimacy with God? Hope? Joy? 

Probably a confusing concoction of many of those seemingly contradictory emotions. And that's totally natural. It's just part of walking through this dark valley alongside our Shepherd. It's both an ordeal and an adventure. 

But make no mistake - we will get through this. 

Because GODISNOWHERE.

An Ointment for Our Anxiousness

“You anoint my head with oil” 

(Psalm 23:5)

There is a sound that can simultaneously make me squirm in discomfort and boil with frustration. It’s the shrill buzz of mosquito wings when I’m trying to drift off to sleep. It amazes me how something that small and nearly inaudible can be so deafening. It would be easier to fall asleep next to train tracks than to drift off to sleep when one of those blood suckers is dive-bombing me in the darkness, threatening to leave itchy little reminders of its nocturnal attacks. When I hear that high pitched buzz, I can forget about resting peacefully until the mosquito is resting in pieces!

This is yet another thing you and I have in common with sheep. They, too, hate the sound of the little pests that attack without remorse. It doesn’t matter how green the pasture they are in, how rich the fodder they’re surrounded by, or how big the rod their shepherd carries; to misquote a song lyric, “Ain’t no sunshine ‘til they’re gone, and there’s no rest ‘til they go away.”

It’s not just because the sound of their wings is like nails on a chalkboard. For sheep, the flying parasites pose a real danger. They love to lay their eggs in the sheep’s nose and ear cavities. And when those eggs hatch, the larva can burrow into their brains and inflict all kinds of damage and distress. Sometimes, sheep who are suffering from a larval infection will ram their heads incessantly into trees or rocks; some sheep have been driven to their death, falling from cliffs in their futile efforts to escape their internal torment.

In the same way, during this season of self-isolation the air has been full of pesky issues that not only distract us from resting, but endanger our health. News articles and graphs of the ever-increasing numbers of infected and dead swarm our televisions and our social media feeds. We can’t get away from them. Add in the growing number of unemployed, the lack of basic necessities and personal protective equipment, the closure of the places we normally frequent, and the lack of physical touch, and we’ve got ourselves a real swarm of issues that are flying around our homes and threatening to steal our ability to rest.

However, the real danger these issues pose isn’t the distractions that they cause; the real danger lies in the thoughts they implant in our minds that end up hatching all sorts of parasitic things: already two friends have been hospitalized for what they thought was a heart attack, only to learn that their chest pains were anxiety related, due to prolonged distress. I’ve spoken with a number of people who are experiencing deep sorrow at the loss of the life we knew before. And now we’re hearing reports that domestic violence, depression and suicide rates are on the rise. Truly, the pests are more than a nuisance; they are downright dangerous to our well-being. But what’s the solution?

In David’s day, when a shepherd recognized that the sheep were being antagonized by bugs, he would pour oil over the sheep’s head, making sure to get it into the ears and nose. The oil would both fend off insects and sooth the itching. Shepherds continue doing this to this day, regularly running their flocks through a “sheep dip” that coats their entire bodies in a concoction that repels insects.

In A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23, Phillip Keller explains the effect this anointing has on the sheep: “Once the oil had been applied to the sheep’s head, there was an immediate change in behavior. Gone was the aggravation, gone the frenzy, gone the irritability and the restlessness. Instead, the sheep would start to feed quietly again, then soon lie down in peaceful contentment. “

That’s what we need: an ointment for the swarming troubles that pester us, for the thoughts that buzz around our mind and keep us up at night. But what can we use to fend them off? Some of us have our own remedies we run to in order to try and dull the aggravation. We may turn to alcohol, snacking, busyness, television, social media, or anything else we think can dull the discomfort and drown out the noise in our heads. But those solutions merely numb the pain, they don’t address the underlying issues.

What we need is an ointment that can truly repel the parasitic fears and begin to heal the mental and emotional damage they’ve inflicted. And this is where time with our shepherd comes in. There’s a reason why we pastors are always encouraging people to spend time with God, to meditate on scripture, and to pray. At the risk of sounding trite, these quiet times are a tried and true remedy for whatever aggravations the day holds in store for us.

I can tell a difference in the way I respond to disruptions and frustrations when I’ve spent time with God. There’s something so soothing about it, as if it helps me be more flexible and tolerant of the unexpected curveballs life throws at me. When I don’t get that time, I find myself being a little more impatient, a little more intolerant and a little more self-centered.

One of the reason’s I’ve invested so much effort into writing these devotionals lately is because they are like a daily anointing during a season when questions, fears and interruptions are swarming. However, these posts are a lousy substitute for time spent with God, meditating on His word and in prayer.  If you have to pick only one, please disregard my posts and open your Bibles. But my hope is that they’re like an appetizer that whets your appetite and compels you to draw near to your Shepherd so that He can care for your needs and prepare you to face the day.

I'm grateful to be on this journey with you,
Pastor Eric

Facing the Wrong Enemy

“You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies.”
(Psalm 23:5)

Yesterday, as I was preparing to post my morning devotional, it dawned on me that I’d been looking at the wrong enemy. Admittedly, COVID-19 is the main focus of almost every news story, and it has altered our lives in some unprecedented ways. And yet, I cannot help but feel that in all the hype, we’ve become distracted by a secondary problem. Like the crowds that lined the road into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, we’ve been crying, “Hosanna – Save Us,” but we’ve been looking to our shepherd to save us from the wrong enemy.

Those crowds were focused on Rome – a foreign scourge that had entered their land uninvited and took over. That enemy dictated how they could live and often took their lives indiscriminately. Sound familiar? And yet, we now know that the crowds were focused on the wrong foe, that Jesus hadn’t come to throw off the yoke of Rome. That’s why their cries of “Hosanna” quickly turned to shouts of “Crucify him!”

In the same way, we’re hyper-focused on COVID-19 as if it’s the greatest enemy humanity faces, but it isn’t – not by a long-shot. Sure, it’s an unwelcome intruder that is ravaging our land and stealing both our lives and our sense of security. And yet, it isn’t even the worst virus that currently plagues our world. There is a far worse one that infects every person alive, and has caused devastation throughout history. I’m talking about sin.

From the day Adam and Eve consumed a forbidden piece of fruit, it has corrupted humanity and exacted a terrible toll. It has undermined relationships between spouses, siblings, neighbors and nations. It even sent us into hiding from our Creator. Sadly, sin is remarkably contagious and resilient – it has passed from one generation to the next, and today it infects every living person on this planet. But the worst part is the mortality rate – unlike COVID-19, which kills about one out of every hundred people who are infected by it, sin kills 100% of the people who contract it. And I’m not just talking about physical death, but spiritual death as well. It actually attacks our souls first, severing our ability to commune with our creator long before it claims our lives.

It was this ancient enemy that Jesus rode a donkey into Jerusalem to conquer. This was the pandemic from which he came to save us. Because he understood that a contagion as prevalent and deadly as sin demands a cure. And he was the only person who could supply it. 

We know how the story goes, and the exceedingly high personal cost Jesus paid in order to provide us with the cure to this contagion. Since the penalty of sin is death, he paid the price himself – willingly taking our sins upon himself and dying in our place so that we could live. This is what we celebrate every Good Friday.

But what does this have to do with the Shepherd’s Psalm? What does this have to do with our shepherd setting a table for us in the presence of our enemies?

On the night before he was crucified, Jesus sat at a table with his disciples and shared a meal with them. During that meal, he took a piece of bread and used it as metaphor for his body. And he took a cup and used it as a symbol for his blood. His point to those gathered disciples, and to us, is that he was about to do exactly what those crowds lining the road into Jerusalem had been begging for on Palm Sunday – he was going to save us from the worst enemy mankind has ever encountered. And in doing so, he was setting a table for us in the presence of our mortal enemy.

The cross sounds utterly foolish to those who are still suffering from the spiritual blindness that sin causes in those who are dying. But for those of us who have tasted and seen God’s mercy and grace, it is an enduring symbol of our Shepherd’s incredible love for us. He loved us so much, he died in our place so that we could live with Him. Because let’s not forget, the tomb is empty and our hope lives.

So while we sit in our homes, surrounded by a virus that has infiltrated our lives and dictates where we can go and what we can do, remember that it pales in comparison to the enemy Jesus has already overcome. And no matter what the coming weeks and months hold, we know that this is just a blink of an eye in the grand scope of eternity. This crisis will pass, and there will be another to take its place. Jesus was right when he warned us that in this world, we will have trouble. But because of what he did for us on the cross, the enemies of this life will never get the last word – He will.

I leave you this morning with a song that has been echoing in my mind as I wrote this. It is an anthem of trust from the sheep to their shepherd, and I invite you to sing along with me. Click here to listen.

In the Presence of My Enemies

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 

I will fear no evil for you are with me…
You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies.”

(Psalm 23:4-5)

We are journeying through a valley of desolation. All our regular rhythms are thrown off, our favorite distractions are postponed until further notice, and every time we open the news-feed we are reminded of a very real enemy that stalks us in the shadows. It is no wonder that many of us are exhausted and starving for moments of joy. Why else would we keep sharing coronavirus related memes?

But Eric, what do you expect?
How can I rest when I’m out of work?
How can I rest when there’s a virus out there killing thousands of people every day?
How can I rest when I don’t see the end in sight and we may be on lock-down indefinitely?

These are fair questions. And yet, Psalm 23 reminds us that we don’t need to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders. It’s not our responsibility to think through every contingency, to protect ourselves from every enemy, or to scrounge up enough provisions to carry us through this prolonged quarantine. That’s our Shepherd’s job, and He is fully up to the task.

We may be deep in the valley, but He’s right here with us. And His presence provides a place for us to rest and find our nourishment in the presence of our enemies.

Our minds might be screaming, “Run! Fix it! Get out of this as fast as you can!”
But our Shepherd is inviting us to “be still and know that I am God.”

Now, I will confess that resting when we are surrounded by enemies can feel impossible, bordering on irresponsible. But then I think of all the times God allowed His people to find themselves in a place where all they could do was fix their eyes on Him in the face of danger.

For instance, after that first Passover when God powerfully delivered the people of Israel from slavery in Egypt, He led them to the edge of the Red Sea. As they camped there, hemmed in by an impassible body of water, they turned and saw the Egyptian army bearing down on them. As the horizon was darkened by the dust of the most powerful military force of their day, the Israelites were understandably concerned. They began to cry, “Why would God lead us out here into the wilderness to die?”

But then Moses reminded them not to fear the enemy, for their God was with them:

“Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”  (Exodus 14:13-14) 

You know how the story goes. God ultimately parted the sea and led His people through on dry ground, with the Egyptian army hot on their heels. And then, once the Israelites passed through the valley of water, God decimated the enemy army without His people needing to raise a hand. Their cries of lament turned to cries of victory – and their fear gave way to faith.

We find ourselves in a similar place. We are huddled inside our homes, a deadly enemy advancing upon us, and we feel the urge to do something, anything to protect ourselves. So we try to stay busy, educate ourselves about the virus, or just distract ourselves with memes. And yet, our Shepherd is inviting us to be still and rest in His presence: to recuperate from the harried schedules we’ve been keeping; to be present with our loved ones; and to find nourishment for our souls in the midst of this dark valley. Because He has prepared a table for us in the presence of our enemies, and He’s provided us with plenty of time to partake of it.

I will close our time together with these words from Psalm 46:

God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.

He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”
The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Israel is our fortress.
(Psalm 46:1-3, 10-11)

The Shepherd's Staff

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 

I will fear no evil for you are with me; 

Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” 

(Psalm 23:4) 

Yesterday, we examined the way our Shepherd defends and disciplines us. His rod of correction and protection truly is a comfort to the flock. Today, we turn our attention to the shepherd’s staff, and the way it brings comfort to the sheep.

If there is one piece of equipment that defines a shepherd, it is his staff. Shaped like an over-sized cane, the staff is like an extension of the shepherd’s hand. When a lamb gets caught in a thicket, the shepherd uses his staff to pull away the thorny branches and release it. Or when it falls in a ditch, the shepherd can use the crook at the staff to pull the sheep back up to solid ground.

But the shepherd also uses his staff to guide and direct the sheep. He doesn’t do this by hitting them with it; rather, he lays the tip of the staff on the sheep’s side, and then he can gently apply pressure in the direction he wants to lead the flock. And in this way, the sheep are comforted because they don’t have to guess which direction to go.

Other times, a shepherd may simply lay his staff against the side of one of his sheep to remind it that he is near. They may walk this way for quite some time, like a parent holding a child’s hand.

In the same way, as we journey through this dark valley covered in the shadow of the coronavirus, we need the reminder of our Shepherd’s presence more than ever. And we get that reminder through His Holy Spirit resting gently upon us. 

Our Father may be in Heaven, but He has not left to walk alone. He has given us His Spirit to walk with us. Jesus himself told us that God’s Spirit would be our comforter and guide as we journey through this sin-scarred world. 

It is God’s Spirit who guides us through the messiness of life, gently, lovingly whispering in our ear, “come this way,” or “you don’t want to go down that path.” And when our hearts get tangled in the thorns of fear and discouragement, it is God’s Spirit who reminds us that we are not alone and begins to pull the barbs away so that we can regain our footing. 

But the presence of God's Spirit does more than simply help us get through. He reminds us of our identity as God's beloved children. The Apostle Paul recognized this when he wrote:

"For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, 'Abba, Father.' The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children." (Romans 8:14-16) 

We live in a world that constantly demands we prove our value in order to be accepted, that we DO something praiseworthy in order to BE loved. But God's Spirit reminds us that we ARE loved just as we are, that we already have immeasurable value, and that our Father has accepted us just as we are. 

Because of the Spirit's presence in our life, when we look to our Shepherd for help in our time of distress, we don't need to fear that He is disgusted by our weakness or disappointed by our neediness. Instead, we can take comfort in the fact that He views us as His beloved children. In fact, we can call Him our Abba, our Daddy, which is without a doubt the most intimate name of God found anywhere in scripture. And since He's our Abba, we can come just as we are and find comfort in His embrace. 

So as you stumble through this trying time, along unfamiliar and treacherous terrain, know that you are not walking alone. Your Shepherd is right beside you. Or to be more specific, His Spirit is within you, comforting and encouraging you to keep going. You can ignore His consolation and resist His guidance, but why would you want to?

Let this be your prayer:
Holy Spirit, thank you for being my comforter and guide as I walk through this painful valley. I need the constant reminder that I'm not walking alone. I pray that you would help me to hear your gentle, quiet voice above the cacophony of my circumstances. Moreover, I pray that you would give me the faith to trust what you tell me. I need you now more than ever. Amen. 

The One Who Defends and Disciplines Us 

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 

I will fear no evil for you are with me; 

Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” 

(Psalm 23:4) 

As I reflect on the broken path we find ourselves in this season, we truly are walking through a dark valley. The shadows cast by the unfamiliar terrain and the uncertainty each day brings could easily hide predators who have the ability to cause us great harm: COVID-19, financial hardship, bored children.

However, as we saw in the last devotional, we can find comfort in the fact that our Shepherd is right here with us. Not only has He led us into this uncomfortable place, but He calmly walks at our side as we pass through it. But, according to David’s psalm, our Shepherd doesn’t walk empty-handed.

When shepherds in David’s day were out in the field with the sheep, they would carry two items: a rod and a staff. This morning, we are going to focus on the rod.

The rod was similar to a security-guard’s night stick. It was a small club that is was easy to swing or throw. When a predator would threaten the flock, a shepherd would use it to defend the sheep. But a shepherd wouldn’t use it solely to chase off predators. The rod was also used to correct unruly or foolish sheep.

As Phillip Keller, shepherd and author of A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23, explains, “If the shepherd saw a sheep wandering away on its own, or approaching poisonous weeds, or getting too close to danger of one sort or another, the club would go whistling through the air to send the wayward animal scurrying back to the bunch.”

So the rod was used both for defense as well as discipline. And its presence in the shepherd’s hands brings the sheep comfort.

You might wonder how discipline can be comforting. Consider these words from Hebrews 12:

“My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline, and do not lose heart when He rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines the one He loves, and He chastens everyone He accepts as his child. Endure hardship as discipline. God is treating you as His children.” (Hebrews 12:5-7)

So the discipline we go through is a sign of God’s acceptance and love for us as His children. But His discipline isn’t primarily punitive in nature, but rather formative. The author of Hebrews continues:

“God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in His holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.” (Hebrews 12:10-11)

This season is painful. None of us would choose what we’re going through, and yet it has the potential to produce real spiritual growth in us if we are willing to lean in and trust our Shepherd. 

Admittedly, we could get mad at Him for allowing us to walk through this dark valley, and we’ll get nothing but out of this time but bitterness and disillusionment. 

Or we could fix our eyes on our shepherd and choose to trust Him as we walk with Him through it. If we do, then this season can produce a bountiful harvest of spiritual fruit in our lives: love for God and for those around us, joy and peace in the midst of uncertain circumstances, patience when things don't go as planned, and a greater sense of intimacy with our Heavenly Father to name a few. 

I don’t know about you, but it seems like an easy choice to me.


Father God, you are my Shepherd, and I trust you. I don’t like this painful place I find myself in right now, but I find comfort in the fact that you are with me in it. I’m grateful for the reminder that you defend me and you discipline me for my own well-being. Help me to keep my eyes fixed on you, and use this time to help me grow. Jesus, in your name I pray, Amen.

Walking Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil for you are with me.” (Psalm 23:4)

If there is one metaphor in scripture that aptly describes this season we find ourselves in, it’s “the valley of the shadow of death.” Every time I open up my news feed, I see the ever-growing numbers of infected and dead around our nation and world. The only number rising faster is the unemployment rate, as schools and businesses shut up shop for the duration of this pandemic. This cannot help but take a toll on us. In fact, last week, two people from my church community were hospitalized for chest-pains, only to find out that it wasn’t a heart attack, but rather anxiety-induced stress. We truly are walking through a dark valley shrouded in death.

Now, the very name suggests that these valleys are places that we never want to find ourselves, and yet there is a reason why the Good Shepherd would lead his flock through them. As we discussed in my previous post, sheep are habitual creatures and will remain in a familiar area even if the grass is gone and the water is polluted. So a good shepherd will often lead his sheep towards better grazing areas. And the valleys are the most natural passage ways from one grazing area to the next. After all, why pick your way along a rocky hilltop when you can walk through the valley?

But David’s description suggests that these valleys are not comfortable places for the sheep. Not only are the unfamiliar territory, but the shadows could be hiding deadly predators who are waiting to tear the sheep apart.

We, too, find ourselves in unfamiliar territory, and the constant barrage of news articles and social media posts warn us of a merciless virus prowling our streets, lurking on doorknobs and flat surfaces, and possibly even floating on the breeze. It’s no wonder we’re fearful.

When sheep find themselves in the dark valley, they have a couple choices: they can run from it, trying to get out of that place as quickly as possible, leaving the shepherd behind in their attempts to reach safety. Or they can draw closer to the shepherd’s side, finding their comfort and confidence in his presence.

In verse 4, David declares his choice: “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me!” In other words, he trusts his shepherd more than he fears the lurking predators. And he knows that he is safest when he is close by his shepherd’s side.

We find ourselves in one of the darkest, most foreboding valleys in our lifetimes. We don’t know what tomorrow holds, let alone next month. And I suspect that many of us are tempted to bolt from this present reality. But while we don’t know where we’re headed, our Shepherd does, and He’s not afraid of COVID-19 or any other evil that stalks this sin-scarred planet.

So while this valley where we find ourselves is painful to be in – and it is – we are right where we need to be because our Shepherd is with us, and He knows where He’s taking us. So fear not, for you do not walk through this valley alone.

Father God, we confess that we are afraid. We don’t like being here in this dark valley, and we want to get out as quickly and painlessly as possible. And yet, as much as we fear this place, we trust you more. So we choose, here and now, to follow your lead and allow you to set the pace. We choose to remain at your side. Amen.

HE LEADS ME ALONG THE RIGHT PATHS

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. 

He leads me along the right paths for His name's sake.

One of the most unexpected and widespread effects of the ongoing crisis has been the disruption of our daily routines. Seemingly overnight, all the rhythms of our lives were thrown out of the window, and many of us (myself included) have struggled to adjust.

It makes me think about something I read in Phillip Keller’s book, A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23. According to Keller, who spent years working as a shepherd, “sheep are notorious creatures of habit. If left to themselves, they will follow the same trails until they become ruts; graze the same hills until they turn to desert wastes; pollute their own ground until it is corrupt with disease and parasites.” (p.83)

If this continues unchecked, the sheep will grow increasingly anxious and restless as they become malnourished and sickly. So a good shepherd doesn’t leave the sheep to fend for themselves. Instead, he leads them along new paths into fresh fields and to clean watering holes so that the sheep can find true nourishment and rest. He doesn’t lead them aimlessly; he knows where He wants to take them.

Of course, the sheep aren’t always excited about leaving the comfort of their familiar foraging grounds. Sometimes the paths the shepherd leads them along are rocky and treacherous, but when the sheep trust their shepherd more than they fear the unknown, then they will discover that their shepherd knows what they need far better than they do.

I suspect a lot of us can identify with sheep. If left to our own inclinations, we will choose the comfort of familiarity to the discomfort of the unknown. Many of us have been doing the same routines, walking the same paths day after day, year after year. And then we wonder why we find ourselves walking in ruts, or why the same amount of effort produces less and less growth.

For anyone who’s ever tried to get in shape, it’s like doing the same exercise over and over. What starts out as challenging and strenuous can quickly become routine and boring. So, like a good personal trainer, God will change up the routine, challenging our spiritual muscles in different ways that will elicit greater growth. He will lead us to new, fresh pastures. He will allow us to go through experiences that remind us that He’s in control, we’re not. And He will ask us to trust His lead. Sound familiar? I suspect that your faith is getting a good work out right about now, huh?

We have the best of Shepherds, and He often leads us away from our familiar ruts, along new paths, to new grazing grounds. But He doesn’t just do it for our well-being. He also does it as a testimony of his competency.

“He leads me along the right paths for His name's sake.”

You see, a shepherd’s reputation is tied directly to the state of his flock. If the flock suffers, which happens when the sheep are left to fend for themselves, it reflects negatively upon the shepherd. And when the sheep flourish, when they grow strong and healthy, the shepherd’s reputation also flourishes. Our spiritual well-being is actually a testimony of God’s capability; it’s a sign both to us and to others, that our Shepherd knows what He’s doing with us.

I am well aware of how disruptive this season of self-isolation is for most of us. All of our rhythms have been thrown out the window and we may feel lost. But sometimes that’s exactly what we need in order to continue spiritually growing and thriving. Our shepherd knows this. So He invites us to follow Him out of the familiar, out of the places where we can rely on muscle memory and slip into autopilot for weeks on end.

What’s more, He knows where He’s leading us, even if we don’t. We may resist following, for fear that we’re going the wrong way, but what makes the paths we're walking "right" is that He is with us, leading the way. So long as we remain at our Shepherd’s side, it won’t matter whether our path runs through a green pasture or a dark valley, because He is with us, guiding and comforting us along the way.

So Jesus lead on. We will follow. We invite you to disrupt our rhythms, frustrate our independence, motivate us to move, and guide us where you want us to go. We are your flock, the people of your pasture, so take us where you want us to go. Amen. 

HE RESTORES MY SOUL

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me beside quiet waters,
He restores my soul. 

Psalm 23 is a song of absolute trust written from the perspective of a sheep towards his shepherd. I suspect that the reason it resonates so deeply for us is because it’s so profoundly personal. David didn’t describe the Lord as “our shepherd,” but rather “MY shepherd.” He was writing as one who knew His shepherd intimately, and had seen countless examples of his shepherd’s capable care.

I suspect we have also seen countless examples of God’s capable care, of the ways He provides for us in times of scarcity and guides us through difficult seasons. And in a time like this, when we are experiencing levels of scarcity and trouble unlike any other time in our lives, it has never been more important for us to remember who our Shepherd is and how capable He is of caring for us.

Yesterday, we began to unpack the second verse of the Shepherd Psalm. After declaring his absolute trust in his Shepherd, David writes:

“He makes me lie down in green pastures, 
  He leads me beside still waters,
  He restores my soul.”  

We’ve already commented on the irony that our Shepherd has to make us lie down. Even after a shepherd has properly fed and watered his flock, sheep are prone to wander in search of one more tuft of grass to crop or another mud-choked puddle to drink from. So shepherds regularly need to make the sheep lie down and rest.

Similarly, even though we intellectually understand that our identity is found in our relationship with God, not in what we do, we are still prone to wander in search of things that can prop up our identity and affirm that we matter. And in a time like this, when we are forced to isolate in our homes, being still can feel like a punishment. But I would suggest it’s a time when our Shepherd is inviting us to lay down and rest in His presence, because He is enough.

But it’s that last line that I want to zero in on this morning: “He restores my soul.”

What does that mean? How does our Shepherd restore our soul?  To answer that, it helps to understand how a shepherd restores a sheep that has become cast down.

One of the most dangerous things that can happen to a sheep is it becomes “cast” – that means it’s fallen and isn’t able to regain its footing by its own strength. This could happen for any number of reasons: perhaps it’s grown too fat, or its fleece has grown too full or it has gotten clogged with mud and branches,  or it’s simply stumbled into a ditch and can’t get out. Initially, it’s simply uncomfortable for the sheep, but if it’s not restored back to its feet in a reasonable time, it can die.

Like sheep, we too can get cast down. It happens for lots of reasons: perhaps we stumble in sin, or we get too full of ourselves, or we get bogged down with fear and anxiety about the unknown. Or maybe we just get sideswiped by life. I think a lot of us find ourselves in that place right now. The coronavirus came out of left field and has swept the legs out from under many of us and we just don’t know how to get back to our feet. Thankfully, this is where the shepherd comes in.

A good shepherd is constantly looking for those sheep who have fallen, and when he finds one that is cast, he “restores it” to its feet with gentleness and grace. The same holds true for us.

When we find ourselves flat on our back and unsure whether we have the strength to get back up, we might think that God will be mad with us, that He will be disgusted and fed up. But that’s not the attitude of our Shepherd. A good shepherd cares for his flock, and we have the best of shepherds. He knows that we all get cast down from time to time, so rather than getting disgusted with us, He takes pains to restore us to health and wholeness.

If anyone knew this to be true it was King David, the guy wrote this psalm. David fell harder than any of us have. It started innocently enough. He saw a woman bathing and didn’t look away. His initial interest turned to infatuation, then to lust, and that’s when things really went sideways. The woman in the bath, who was aptly named Bathsheba, turned out to be the wife of one of his closest friends. David got her pregnant and then tried to cover it up by bringing her husband home from war so they could easily write the baby off as his. But when that didn’t work, David tried to clean up his mess by intentionally sending his friend to the front lines so that he would be killed.  In a matter of days, David not only became an adulterer, but a murderer (even if he didn’t wield the sword that killed his friend).

Now, God could have easily rejected David at this point; He could have taken the throne and even David’s life for his mistakes. But he didn’t. Nor did God simply ignore David’s misbehavior. He didn’t turn a blind eye to it, because left unchecked it would have caused even more destruction. Instead, God restored David gently, through the Prophet Nathan.

Nathan presented David with the truth of his sin, and David was humble enough to acknowledge the mess he had made. Now, you might say, “God was judging David by exposing his sin,” but I beg to differ. Exposing his sin was God’s grace. God’s judgement is when He gives us over to our destructive tendencies - when He leaves us cast down.

What I love about David, and one of the primary reasons why he continues to be called “a man after God’s heart,” is that once his sin is exposed, he doesn’t deny it, excuse it or try to run and hide from it. Instead, he owns it, confesses it openly, and runs to his Shepherd for consolation. 

In fact, we have a record of David’s response, penned by his own hand. It’s Psalm 51, and it is a beautiful cry for help from a cast sheep to his shepherd. Let’s listen in:

Create in me a clean heart, O God.
    Renew a loyal spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from your presence,
    and don’t take your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
    and make me willing to obey you.
                                  - Psalm 51:10-12


Father God, you are my Shepherd, and you are faithful. Even when I am not; even when I am drawn away by the things of this world, or my faith is eclipsed by my circumstances, still you are faithful and vigilant. I thank you for your patience with me, and thank you for your grace. I pray that you would restore me to my feet, and help me stand. Jesus, I pray in your name, Amen.

He Makes Me Lie Down

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads be beside quiet waters…

There was a time, about 6 years ago, when David’s declaration of trust from Psalm 23 was like a drink of water in the midst of a desert. At the time, I was a new father, an adjunct college professor, and an associate pastor at a growing church down the street. Life was exciting and I was running hard and fast. It felt like there were never enough hours in the day to do everything I needed to get done, and my relationships with my family and with God bore the brunt of my harried schedule.

Whenever my wife would ask me to choose her and our infant son over work, I would feel frustrated. Couldn’t she see that everything I was doing was for them?! Wasn’t it enough that I was providing for them and serving God?  Speaking of God, during this season I was acting a lot like Martha. I was far too busy working for God to actually spend any time with Him.  So I drove myself into exhaustion, never realizing that I was in danger of burning out. Looking back, I can clearly see the warning signs. I was red-lining and running on fumes, but the excitement of feeling needed kept me going. Little did I know that a break down was imminent.

 

It’s funny how people around us can see the warning signs better than we can. I was physically present, but emotionally distant. My marriage was suffering and my desire to minister to others was waning. It was even hard to scrape together the desire to worship at church. Something was amiss; I was in a funk and everyone around me could tell.

So one day, my director at church pulled me into his office and voiced his concern. “Eric, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but the joy-filled guy that I know is gone,” he told me. “I’m concerned about you and I want you to take the rest of the week off to spend some time with God and your wife and figure out what’s going on.” I know that he only wanted the best for me, but in the moment it felt like I’d been called into the principal’s office and suspended.

I went home and collapsed onto the couch with Cathy, feeling utterly defeated. Thankfully, it was my son Ethan’s nap time, so my wife and I spent the next hour praying together for God’s wisdom and direction.

During that time, He gave me a mental image of me lying in a bed, under a heavy blanket. But as the sheet was pulled away, I saw that my body was withered and emaciated. I knew in my heart that God was showing me the state of my soul, which had grown dry from constantly pouring out but never stopping to be refilled.

It feels ironic to admit that, as a pastor, I had grown spiritually dry, but it was true. In my drive to care for other’s needs, I’d neglected my own relationship with God, so I’d been pouring into other people out of the dregs, not the overflow of my heart. As a result, ministry had become an obligation, not a joy, and though I didn’t realize it in that moment, my Father in Heaven was putting me on the sideline for my own good and the good of those who depended upon me the most.

During a time of quiet reflection one morning during my forced sabbatical, He led me to Psalm 23 over and over again. David’s words felt as if they were written specifically for me:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.

As I sat in the stillness of my home, alone with God as everyone else in the house was still asleep, I felt as if my Shepherd was using David’s words to tell me that He needed to pull me out of ministry so that He could minister to me. My Shepherd was going to make me lie down in a green pasture to rest.

It’s seems odd that the shepherd has to make the sheep lie down, doesn't it?! But shepherds need to do it all the time, because sheep are prone to wander off in search of one more tuft of grass to crop or one more mud-choked puddle to drink from. And like sheep, we are prone wander in search of things to prop up our identity and prove our value to ourselves and others around us. But our identity and value has never been found in what we do for a job or how in-shape we are. They are found in our relationship to our Shepherd, and sometimes our Shepherd needs to make us be still so that we can remember that.

For many of us, this season of self-isolation feels like being forced to lie down in a green pasture. We can’t run to the things we normally run to for consolation and purpose, so we sit at home and wonder if anybody even misses us. But what if this is a time in your life when your Shepherd is inviting you to be still and know that you are enough, just as you are, because He is with you and He is watching over you.

I remember how painful it was during that forced-sabbatical to sit and be still. It felt punishment. Like I was in time-out. But David’s words from Psalm 23 were like a balm to my aching heart, because they assured me that my Shepherd’s intention was not punitive, but rather restorative.  

He was going to restore my soul.

We will explore what it means to have our souls restored, and how God does that tomorrow. 

For today, I would simply invite you to spend some time in silence, resting in these truths:

• You are not alone. Your Shepherd is right there with you.
• He loves you - not for anything you do, or anything you will do - but just for being you.
• You are enough, and so is He.

The Lord is My Shepherd

Psalm 23 is one of the most well-known passages in the Bible, rivaled only by John 3:16. But there’s a danger to familiarity – when we know something so well, we can stop really listening to what it has to say, like a song we’ve sung so many times that we never consider what the lyrics mean. So our goal over the next two weeks will be to strip away the familiar veneer and chew on this beloved psalm one verse at a time, so that we can truly consider the gravity of what it declares.

This morning, I want to start with that first verse that we know so well:
“The Lord is my shepherd, I have everything I need.” Or as most of us memorized it, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.”

It’s important to remember that, as famous and well known as these words are, they were penned by a real person, a guy named David who happened to be the most famous King in Israel’s history. But he didn’t start out as a king. When we first meet him in the Bible, he is out tending his father’s flocks. That’s right. As a kid, David was a shepherd. So it’s no coincidence that when he was searching for an analogy to describe his relationship with God, he would choose to call God his shepherd.

And that means David identified as one of the sheep.  Which is an interesting choice, because sheep can’t take care of themselves. They have no claws or horns to defend themselves. They aren’t fast enough to run from predators, they aren’t smart enough to feed and care for themselves. Sheep are, by nature, dependent creatures, and it is the shepherd’s job to lead and guide, protect and provide for them.  That means that the flock’s well-being is directly tied to the quality of the shepherd caring for it.

Psalm 23 is an emphatic declaration of David’s complete and utter trust in his shepherd. Just consider the opening line: “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not be in want.”

As the king of Israel, David could have said, “The Lord is OUR shepherd.”
But he didn’t. Instead, he declared, “the Lord is MY shepherd.”  It’s a much more personal statement, and the Psalm as a whole has the feel of a sheep resting contentedly under his shepherd’s care. And because God is caring for him, David declares, “I shall not be in want.”

Now, I’ll admit that this could sound like a bit of an overstatement, as if David is suggesting that he has no desires beyond what God gives him. But that’s not what he’s saying. There’s a huge difference between wanting something and being in want. Remember, it’s the shepherd’s job to provide for the needs of his flock; however, that doesn’t mean the shepherd will or should always give the sheep everything they want. Imagine if I gave my boys everything they wanted? We’d be eating ice cream at every meal. To give into our children’s every whim is the best way to ensure that they will be fat, unhealthy and spoiled. And in the same way, a good shepherd recognizes the difference between what his sheep want and what they truly need. Every one of us want things that could hurt us, and a good shepherd will protect us from them. A good shepherd will tell us “No” from time to time.

Perhaps we should paraphrase the opening this way: “The Lord is my Shepherd; He gives me what I need so I shall not be in want.” David experienced this first hand. He saw God’s hand of guidance, provision and protection throughout his life, in both the good times and the hard ones (and let’s not forget that David had plenty of hard ones). He spent years on the run from Saul. He had moments of doubt when it seemed like God had abandoned him and destruction was just around the corner (just read the Psalms, which are full of his cries of frustration and disappointment). He had some painful moments when he fell flat on his face into sin. Yet even then, his Shepherd didn’t abandon him. Rather, God met him in the midst of his mistakes and led him out of bondage to sin and guilt. David could say with confidence that “the Lord God is MY Shepherd, I shall not be in want.”

Can you say that?

As you survey the pathway of your life, the twists and turns, the triumphs and the disappointments, can you see God’s hand of guidance?

Can you see the ways that he has protected you from things you wanted, but ultimately needed to avoid?

And can you see the ways He’s provided for you?

I sure can. Though life hasn’t always gone the way I would have expected, I can see God’s sure hand of guidance and protection all along the way. At times He’s led me with a clear, loving ‘No,’ and my life is better for it. Sometimes He’s led me with the rod of discipline, to get my attention and set me on the path of righteousness again. And sometimes He’s just flat out blessed me beyond what I could have ever imagined.

So the Lord is a worthy, capable shepherd. But he’s more than that. He’s also our rightful owner. After all, He created us and sustains our every breath. And He paid the price to buy us out of slavery to sin. He is our rightful owner, yet he doesn’t force His ownership upon us. He allows us to choose whether or not we want him as our Shepherd. He allows us to choose whether we will follow His lead.

So I ask you again, is the Lord Your Shepherd?
Have you chosen to submit your life to His care?

A lot of times we treat this like a one-time decision – whether to pray the prayer or not – but the truth is that following our Shepherd is a daily decision. Every day and every circumstance is an opportunity to declare our faith, through both our thoughts and our actions. Will we take up our cross and follow Him, or will we choose to chart our own course, running after the things that we think we need to be happy and fulfilled?

I think Joshua said it best: “Choose this day whom you will serve.” Choose this day whom you will place your trust in and follow. God is the rightful ruler of your life, the only one who has both a claim and a capability to guide your steps through this sin-scarred world. But He still gives you a choice. So choose whom you will serve. As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord. Why?

Because the Lord is my shepherd, 
and I have everything I need.