Psalm 23 is Not for the Faint of Heart

Texts:

Acts 4:5-12

Psalm 23

1 John 3:16-24

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
File:Flock_of_sheep.jpg
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John 10:11-18

Today, the work of being church becomes much more complicated and much harder than we have ever imagined.  It’s harder than tireless hours of work put into an old building; it’s harder than fanning the sparks of ministry that have all but threatened to go out; it’s harder than showing up, week after week, hoping to experience some new life, some reconciliation, or just something that changes the pace of our lives even if only for an hour.  It’s Good Shepherd Sunday.  Today, most of us imagine ourselves as fluffy little sheep and Jesus as a gentle shepherd who throws us over his shoulder and carries us to safety.  It would be great to hear a sermon about that and to preach a sermon on that.  We could talk about how sheep are not the brightest of creatures on God’s green earth, and that we are prone to straying, and that Jesus lays down his life for the sheep and calls the sheep his own. 

The texts for this week - if we really think about them - challenge us and our faith in ways that an innocent sheep slung over the arms of a shepherd hardly illustrate.  Psalm 23 is one of the most beloved Psalms, one of the most beloved Bible verses of all time.  People who have never read the Bible and, indeed, people who probably have no idea what it means, can quote the King James version of this passage.  It conjures images of the LORD placing us on his shoulders and carrying us to safety.  But is it as simple as that?  When are the times that you say or think this Psalm to yourself?  Where are you?  What are you doing?

What is it to have a shepherd during the times in which we are most broken?  What is it to claim our LORD when we have finally gotten to the end of our ropes?  In times of great need and want, we say, “The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.”  This Psalm proclaims the opposite than what we are really asking for.  We want the first part of the line, “The LORD is my shepherd,” but the second part of the line is harder to swallow: I shall not be in want.”  What is it to be in want?  What are our wants?  Let’s make a list.  The funny thing about wants is that we usually try to fulfill them all by ourselves.  We want to have a successful church, so much so that we are willing to try anything to make that happen.  We become filled with anxiety and stress, wondering what we have done wrong, when things aren’t working out.  It sounds nice: “He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul,” but the only thing harder than trying to do it all by ourselves is to know that we need help.  The only thing harder than needing help is having to actually ask for it.

“He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside the still waters; he restores my soul.”  Anxiety-ridden, saying, “No, Jesus, I don’t have time.  I have all these other things to do; I have all this other stuff that you want me to do, and how do you suppose I’m going to get all of this done if I take a moment to rest here?”  And our souls are anxious.  Even with the LORD being our refuge and our strength, our green pasture, and our fount of still water, we sit, with our hands fidgeting and our knees juggling, wondering when it will look like we have trusted God enough so that we can get back up and start trying to do it ourselves again.  We start reverting to our old ways, “No, I couldn’t possibly ask another person for help; they’re already so busy; they’ve said no a million times already; I know they don’t like me; I know they don’t want to help, I can tell.”

“Even though I walk through the darkest valley I fear no evil; for you are with me, your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”  Again, this Psalm proclaims the opposite of what seems to be true: I don’t know about you, but in the darkest valleys and the darkest alleys, often places within my own soul, I am terrified of the evil that lurks in the shadows and when I think I am seeing things out of the corner of my eye.  Walking through the woods after dark, I hear the creaking of the trees, the snapping of twigs, and I all but run to the closest light.  It is during the darkest valleys, of addiction, of poverty, of fear, of depression, and of disappointment, that we lift our fists to God and say, “Where are you?” 

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.”  God, once again, does the opposite of what we expect.  It isn’t enough to anoint us.  It isn’t enough to bless us.  God blesses us when everything else seems to proclaim the opposite.  You are blessed when you realize you are your own worst enemy, when you would rather earn salvation and grace than receive it freely, and when you think the promises of God are too small to cover you. 

The Psalmist is not mincing words here.  He speaks to a reality in which there is famine, war, and destruction.  He gives us the words that we say at the bed of a dying child, of someone whose body has been so marred by cancer their appearance is a shadow of what it once was, of someone who once seemed so strong and able who now relies entirely on the mercy of others.  This is what it is to understand grace.  This is what it is to understand love.  This Psalm tells a deeper truth and is more real, and more revolutionary, than we give it credit.  It comes to us not when we want to hear these words, but when we need to hear them.

And these are the words we need to hear.  These are the words of deep comfort that, during times of want, you shall not be in want.  During the times you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, during the lonliest times of your life, God is with you.  During the times when it seems everything around you is crashing down, God blesses you.  This is the love that goes so deep it hurts.  This is the love that will go to the ends of the earth, to the darkest places, to the places of our greatest fears, and will take your hand and walk with you.

This Psalm is not for the faint of heart.  It goes to the core of who we are, stating that in the midst of deep struggle and pain, you will proclaim the Word of God.  The Word of God is this: evil has no hold, and it has no power over us.  Death has no victory and it has no sting.  This is the Word that proclaims that God is with us in our suffering, in our doubt, and in our fear, and brings us to hope.  This is the God that will stop at no lengths - even death - to draw you to himself, as a shepherd with his flock.

During times of evil, and during times of fear, through gritted teeth and tears, pray this Psalm.  Pray it over and over again until it’s becomes true.  Pray it over and over again because, dear brothers and sisters, it is true.