The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul...
(New Revised Standard Version)
The Lord is my shepherd.
I lack nothing.
He lets me rest in grassy meadows;
he leads me to restful waters;
he keeps me alive.
(Common English Bible)
You, Lord, are my shepherd.
I will never be in need.
You let me rest in fields of green grass.
You lead me to streams of peaceful water,
and you refresh my life.
(Contemporary English Version)
It doesn't matter what version we read. Is there any other passage of Scripture more soothing and comforting for the tired or anxious soul than the 23rd Psalm? Even if we don't believe, the familiar sound, pastoral images and warm cadence of the psalm can draw us into believing we believe.
Increasingly these days, though, I find myself wondering what we ... what I, really believe.
There are times I recite this psalm to myself in the middle of anxiety-ridden nights (you know those 3 and 4 a.m. waking times?) as a soothing mantra, a prayer and a blessing all rolled into one. A kind of charm to soothe the fearful, overwhelmed spirit -- especially the lines that follow the ones quoted above, about the Shepherd leading us -- leading me, through (yes, there is a way through!) the dark and deathly valley.
It's easy, too, to hear in the psalm a promise of having our needs met, our life blessed by God's good will, "a good life" guaranteed. Not that I believe in the prosperity gospel, or a "name-it-and-claim" kind of prayer life. But which of us has not ascribed moments of good fortune and our privileged place in life to the providence of God who "maketh our cup to runneth over"? And really who are we to doubt, and not give thanks to God for the good that comes our way?
And this week, a new reading begins to emerge ... because of the presentation that Robyn and Elizabeth will be making in worship about their trip to Bolivia in February with Medical Mission International.
Going on a mission trip to Bolivia is not something most of us have on our wish list for life. It's not part of our picture we carry of the good life we aspire to. Nor one of the things we have in mind when we ask God to bless us and our children and grand-children. In other words, when we comfort ourselves with the promise of green pastures, still waters, and a table spread for us in the midst of a scary world, we don't see a mission trip to Bolivia (or anywhere else for that matter) as the place where we will find these things and our soul will be restored.
But what if that's part of the picture, too? Part of what the psalm is saying? That not only does God provide the things we know we need (actually, whether we follow God or not -- see for instance what Jesus says about this in Matthew 5:45), but that when we truly follow God we also find ourselves led by God into places we would never have thought of on our own -- into strange and alien pastures, to drink from foreign and unknown waters for a kind of nurture, refreshment, joy and meaning that we would never have even imagined in our own more limited vision and experience of what makes life good?
I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to Sunday.
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