July 17: Heart & Soul: Trust
Heart and Soul: Trust
Psalm 23
Rev. Rhonda Blevins
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
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One of my favorite pictures ever taken of me was from when I was two or three years old. Now, as the second child, there aren’t a lot of pictures of me growing up. You know, the parents were over it by then. But in this favorite picture taken by my mom, my family was on vacation in Myrtle Beach. In the picture, I am in a little one-piece swimsuit; my dad is in the pool. He has a huge grin on his face and his arms are outstretched toward me. I have an even bigger grin and I am gleefully leaping into his outstretched arms in pure and utter delight.
I am told that’s the first summer I would be brave enough to jump into a pool, and I wanted to do it over and over and over again. I couldn’t get enough of that feeling of jumping off the edge into the air without any fear, knowing that my Daddy would be there to catch me.
Today we think about trust, one of eight primary emotions we humans experience. We’re continuing the summer series I’m calling “Heart and Soul,” in which we’ve been exploring the intersection between faith and emotions as expressed through the Psalms. And there’s no better Psalm to consider the human emotion we call “trust” than Psalm 23, perhaps the most well-known and beloved Psalm of all. Perhaps some of you memorized Psalm 23 when you were a child no bigger than I was the summer I learned to jump into my Daddy’s arms in the pool.
Psalm 23 is often read at funerals; in fact, it is a standard reading at memorial services I lead. And it makes sense that we include Psalm 23 in the funeral liturgy for at least two reasons:
1. Psalm 23 is well known and beloved; returning to its familiar words can provide comfort in unsettling times;
2. Psalm 23 acknowledges the reality of death, but in a way that reminds us of God’s presence with us in death’s shadow;
Although Psalm 23 is often read at funerals, this Psalm is a Psalm for the living. This Psalm speaks to us while we’re walking along life’s journey, through all its ups and downs, through every twist and turn. So let’s consider Psalm 23 more closely, and learn about ourselves in light of its evergreen teaching.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want . . .
We no longer live in an agrarian society, although I know some of you grew up on a farm. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sheep on Clearwater Beach, so this imagery of Yahweh as our shepherd may be a bit lost on us. But King David grew up tending sheep, so this imagery meant something to him.
Some say David wrote this Psalm when he was a young man and still tending sheep. Others believe (like I am inclined to do) that David was waxing nostalgic, an older King David, laden with the troubles of the world, writes this poem as he looks back on his youth when days were less complicated.
Who doesn’t long for less complicated, troublesome days from time to time? Who wouldn’t like for life’s only challenge to be climbing back on the edge of the pool in order to jump with reckless abandon into the outstretched arms of a loving father?
Psalm 23 is a Psalm of trust. We can be carefree sheep knowing that the Good Shepherd is there. Knowing that, we can breathe. We can play. We can relax. We can leap into the future knowing that our Good Shepherd is there to protect. We shall not want for anything because our shepherd never clocks out, never leaves our side, never abandons.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
That sounds relaxing doesn’t it? Like a vacation—away from the hustle and bustle of life’s demands. That’s part of what David likely meant with this verse.
But what does a green pasture mean from the vantagepoint of a sheep? Food! And lots of it. Like a pantry full of bread and chips and crackers and canned vegetables and pasta and soups and granola bars and cereal. A fruit bowl filled with apples and oranges and bananas and mangos and kiwi. A refrigerator filled with milk and juice and broccoli and carrots and cheese . . . so . . . much . . . cheese! A freezer filled with fish and chicken and fine cuts of meat and . . . ice cream. Green. Pastures.
And what would “still waters” mean to a sheep? Just a quiet, relaxing place to sit and gather thoughts? No. “Still waters” is a place to quench your thirst. Rushing waters would be dangerous. A sheep needs still waters to take a drink. Green pastures and still waters is not just an aesthetic, it’s an abundance. Again, our Good Shepherd provides. With green pastures and still waters, what more could a little sheep want? Nothing.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
The pattern for sheep and shepherds in David’s day (and still in some parts of the world today) was for the sheep to sleep within a sheepfold at night. The sheepfold was a small area inside a circular or square wall or fence made of stone or wood or whatever was indigenous to the particular landscape. The gate of the sheep fold was often an open space, just wide enough for the sheep to enter the sheep fold one by one. Every night, the shepherd would stand at the gate and inspect each sheep, one by one, checking on the health and wellbeing of each little sheep (looking to see if any of them had a baaaaaad day, sorry, coulnd’t resist). And after all the sheep were safely in the sheep fold, the shepherd took his place in the open space where he would stay throughout the night, guarding the sheep. The next day, the shepherd would lead the sheep out of the fold along the pathways leading to green pastures and still waters.
Hold this in mind as I read to you a beautiful passage from the Gospel of John, and listen to how Jesus describes himself (John 10:7-11):
So Jesus said to them again, “Truly, truly I say to you, I am the door of the sheep.
All those who came before Me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them.
I am the door; if anyone enters through Me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came so that they would have life, and have it abundantly. “I am the good shepherd; the good shepherd lays down
His life for the sheep.
When David talks about God restoring his soul and leading him along the “paths of righteousness,” this is about sheep resting in the sheep fold, then following the shepherd in the morning along the well-trod pathways to the most verdant pastures and the best still watering holes. The simple life of a sheep: day by day by day. The sheep doesn’t resist the shepherd because the shepherd has proven trustworthy day after day after day.
Trust tells us “this is safe.” The sheep trust the shepherd because the shepherd has proven trustworthy. Sometimes I wonder if we have faith without trust.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Along the paths of righteousness, there are wolves and bears ready to attack and enjoy us for dinner. The shepherd’s rod would defend the sheep from predators. In fact, David once described the use of the shepherd’s rod to King Saul (1 Samuel 17:34-35):
Your servant used to keep sheep for his father. And when there came a lion, or a bear, and took a lamb from the flock, I went after him and struck him and delivered it out of his mouth. And if he arose against me, I caught him by his beard and struck him and killed him.
The shepherd’s staff with its telltale crook was used to grab an errant sheep if it got stuck in mud or thicket or got a little too close to the edge of a ravine.
The rod and the staff, both used to protect the sheep. Yes, there are bears. Yes, there are wolves. There are terrifying things in the world—things that threaten our very lives. But we have a Good Shepherd unafraid to use the rod or the staff. The Psalmist reminds us that we can trust God even in the valley of imminent death.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Why does the Psalmist, David, see himself in the “valley of the shadow death?” He has enemies all around him (one of the reasons why I think David wrote this later in life when he was a king). Yet in the midst of those who hate him, he finds himself at God’s table, where he is welcome. Not only that, but his head is anointed with oil, a symbol of blessing. Not only that his cup runneth over.
An ancient custom related to the cup: so long as the host kept filling your cup, you were welcome to stay. If the host stopped filling your cup, that was a signal that it was time to go.
So not only was the Psalmist welcome at the table, he received a special blessing at the table, and he could stay at the table of love and inclusion and blessing . . . forever.
Most of us know the pain of rejection. There has been some table, somewhere, that refused to give you a seat. Instead of the oil of blessing, you received the spittle of hatred. Instead of your cup running over, you got no cup at all. Yes. We all know the pain of rejection. But no one . . . NO ONE . . . is rejected from God’s table. In the presence of your enemies, those who hate you, reject you, lie to you or about you, there in the middle of all of that is God’s welcome table. Your cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
Trust tells us “this is safe.” When we think about the future, whether a minute or a decade from now, we can hold the future in a spirit of fear, or we can hold the future in a spirit of trust.
The Psalmist is looking to the future, toward “all the days” of his life. And in this final verse in the most beloved Psalm, we find him choosing trust. Will we? Can we?
When we look to the future, will we, can we believe that goodness and mercy await us? Or are we convinced that doom and destruction lie ahead?
I see so many people, and sometimes even the person I see in the mirror, who claim faith but lack trust. “I am a person of faith,” we might say. “I believe in God.” “I am a Christian.” Faith in one breath, worry in the next. And I get it. Anxiety and I are well acquainted.
That’s why we need to constantly remind ourselves, through reading scripture or through the practice of prayer or meditation, we need daily reminders of God’s presence with us, God’s faithfulness throughout our lives, God’s provision every day, every moment. Without some daily practice, we can get into patterns of fear and anger, despair and hopelessness. Your homework this week, should you choose to accept the challenge, is to read or recite Psalm 23 every day this week, and as you read, set an intention to trust God with your tomorrows as well as your todays.
Trust tells us, “this is safe.” When we trust God, when we believe we are safe in God, we can walk with confidence into the future. We can jump off the side of the pool into the arms of our loving Father, knowing that every . . . single . . . time . . . our loving Father will catch us.
Trust. What a beautiful emotion. O for faith to trust God more!
Brennan Manning tells a story about a famous ethicist who went to Calcutta seeking Mother Teresa. For three months, he volunteered at “the house of the dying” to find out how best he could spend the rest of his life. Near the end of his time there, he spoke with Mother Teresa, and he asked her to pray for him. “What do you want me to pray for?” she replied. He then uttered the request he had carried thousands of miles: “Clarity. Pray that I have clarity.” “No,” Mother Teresa answered, “I will not do that.” When he asked her why, she said, “Clarity is the last thing you are clinging to and must let go of.” When the ethicist noted to Mother Teresa that she always seemed to have clarity, the very kind of clarity he was looking for, Mother Teresa laughed and said: “I have never had clarity; what I have always had is trust. So I will pray that you trust God.”[1]
My dear friends, will you pray for me, that I trust God? And I will pray that YOU trust God too.
[1]From Brennan Manning, Ruthless Trust, 2000.