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.