The Lord Is My Shepherd
With all the extra crazy in our world, and quite frankly, in my own life, I’ve been meditating more than ever on the beauty of Psalms 23 and the unchanging promise of the Good Shepherd. Over the next several months I thought it would be good to revisit the power hidden within the comfort of this favorite Psalm.
So much hope is offered to each lamb with the simple statement, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want…” Can you hear the certainty undergirding David’s words? The ringing persuasion that stretched beyond his one flickering light and has offered comfort for epochs.
Why? Why when we lay our loved ones to rest, or we find ourselves trapped in frightful places, or our harried hearts brim with unmet needs, does our heart instinctively turn to the Lord is my shepherd?
Because these words are not a creed—but a relationship.
The Lord, IS my Shepherd. Here. Now. In this trying moment. In this overwhelming pain. In the never-ending responsibilities or the shocking news. No matter what has cleaved me, it doesn’t have the power to pluck me from the unbreakable grip of His hand.
The Lord is my Shepherd. I have chosen Him. He belongs to me, and I to Him. This is not an ambiguous, distant role, but my current identity. An active, exclusive relationship. Him, the Shepherd. Me, the sheep. And in the choosing of Him, I have chosen to let Him lead and I’ve committed to following.
The Lord is my Shepherd. Not my buddy. My pacifier. My lucky rabbit’s foot. He’s my shepherd—which means He’s in charge. It’s the shepherd who decides where to go and how to get there. When to stop, to rest, or to keep pushing forward. What to eat. Where to drink. The sheep is never the one in control. But the sheep is also never the one who has to defeat the enemy or solve the problems that arise on the route. The sheep simply needs to trust, to listen, to follow—and all of her needs will be beautifully met as we shall see in future posts.
Upon this one, small statement, hangs every promise that follows in this Psalm. If Christ is not my shepherd—then none of the rest of the chapter is true. Because if He cannot lead me—He cannot protect, tend, and restore me. Therefore, the health and flourishing of the sheep depends on his willingness to allow the Shepherd to lead.
Trials will come. Tribulation. Even the sheep who is following will walk through storms and along jagged cliffs and descend into valleys that threaten every scrap of earthly security. Satan will prowl. Roar. Ask to sift us like wheat. But none of these forces trumps the Shepherd’s ability to keep us and restore our soul. He is equipped for every challenge along the way.
Therefore, when we find ourselves in a place of soul-languishing, we need to ask ourselves, “Have I stopped following?” Have our eyes shifted to the terrain around us or do we grieve what His love has denied us? Surely, if our hearts were one with His—if we trusted Him and needed nothing but the comfort of His presence in all our places—He would be the light even in our darkest night.
What will be written on the pages of our lives? His story, or ours? Will we strike out on our own and pray we can craft a better tale without His eternal perspective and sufficiency? Or will we settle into the sweet comfort of a Good Shepherd who is able to meet every temporal and eternal need and lead us safely home?
The Lord is my Shepherd… and because of that fact…I shall not want.