The Lord Is My Shepherd

​Young at Heart Message
​
It occurred to me as I was preparing for this week’s message that you all have not been blessed with a pastor who talks too much about her dogs.

I need to remedy that!

I know that Psalm 23 is very often associated with death.

People often request Psalm 23 be read at their bedside when they are close to death, and it is often requested for funerals.
 
And don’t get me wrong – I love using Psalm 23 in that capacity. It offers comfort and hope to people as they transition from this life to the next.
 
But, Psalm 23 is not just a Psalm for the dying. It is also very much a Psalm for the living.
 
And each time I hear this Psalm and think about the Lord as a Shepherd, I think about my dog Lacey.
 
Lacey is a Great Pyrenees.
 
Those of you who have seen Lacey recently know that her hair has been shaved. As she’s gotten older, this has become necessary for her.
 
But, in her prime, this is what she looked like:

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​For those of you who don’t know, Pyrenees are livestock guardian dogs.
 
They are bred to watch flocks of sheep or goats, particularly in the mountains.
 
They watch, defend, protect, care for, and fiercely love their flock. Kind of like mothers!
 
Now, Lacey has never had a flock to guard, per se.
 
Unless, of course, you consider her household her “flock.”

​Or maybe this actual flock she encountered at camp a couple summers ago…

​One of the traits of a Pyrenees is that they can appear to be sleeping or resting, or even lazy.

​But they are ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice:

Sometimes, being a fierce protector means getting a little dirty…

But it also means loving deeply, with a gentle, motherly demeanor…

Being a shepherd isn’t just one thing, it’s many things. It can mean sharing the load:

​Taking a break to care for your human…

Cooling off in the pond…

And, of course, working hard at whatever you’re asked to do…

​Lacey has taught me a lot about working hard and playing hard. She’s taught me about balance.
 
And, she’s taught me a lot about God.
 
I can relate to the imagery of the Lord as my shepherd because I have had the joy of sharing my life with a “shepherd.”
 
And now, you all have had a little glimpse into what being a shepherd means. Lacey doesn’t know it, but being a shepherd also means being a teacher.
 
The Message
 
Now that we have a “real-world” example of at least one type of shepherd, I want to look a bit more closely at Psalm 23.
 
You might be wondering what I could possibly say about this well-known passage.
 
It’s a good question, so let’s explore it a bit more.
 
The versions most of us are familiar with are either the King James version, or the New King James version.
 
The version we heard earlier was the New King James version. The King James version uses “thee” and “thou” but otherwise sounds mostly the same.
 
But, what happens if we read a different version?
 
The version I’d like us to hear now is from a version of the Bible called The Message.
 
If you have never read this version before, it is a very accessible, easy-to-understand version of the Bible.
 
It does not attempt to translate word-for-word like many versions do.
 
Instead, it translates based on concepts and the idea each passage is trying to convey.
 
So, let’s read The Message version. I’ll read it slowly and intentionally, and as I do, I want you to ponder the ways in which this version might resonate for you.
 
Particularly in your life today – not necessarily on your death bed. 
 
God, my shepherd!
    I don’t need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
    you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word,
    you let me catch my breath
    and send me in the right direction.
 
Even when the way goes through
    Death Valley,
I’m not afraid
    when you walk at my side.
Your trusty shepherd’s crook
    makes me feel secure.
 
You serve me a six-course dinner
    right in front of my enemies.
You revive my drooping head;
    my cup brims with blessing.
 
Your beauty and love chase after me
    every day of my life.
I’m back home in the house of God
    for the rest of my life.
 
Does this version feel different to you?
 
God, my shepherd! I don’t need a thing.
 
Right away, I bring to my mind’s eye the image of a shepherd providing for the flock’s every need.
 
Unlike the line “I shall not want,” which sounds a bit more like I am trying to convince myself that God has provided for me, this version confidently has me realizing that my needs are met already, here and now, by God.
 
You have bedded me down in lush meadows, you find me quiet pools to drink from. You let me catch my breath and send me in the right direction.
 
Again, this version puts God right by my side. When I stray, God gently guides me back. When I need to rest or revive my body or soul, God provides for that, too.
 
Even when the way goes through Death Valley, I’m not afraid when you walk at my side.
 
This line traditionally is why so many people like this Psalm read at their deathbed or at their funeral. The NKJV version reads, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”
 
It wouldn’t have to be read as though one is dying, but it is often understood that way.
 
However, The Message version reads:
 
Even when the way goes through Death Valley, I’m not afraid when you walk at my side. Your trusty shepherd’s crook makes me feel secure.
 
This imagery doesn’t invite us to think that “Death Valley” means the end. A valley might be a low point, but inevitably on either side of a valley, we can go back up again.
 
And, if we imagine being in that valley with God as our shepherd at our side, this invites images of hope for those of us who are very much still alive.
 
The last few lines of this version read:
 
You serve me a six-course dinner right in front of my enemies. You revive my drooping head, and my cups brims with blessing.
 
Your beauty and love chase after me every day of my life. I’m back home in the house of God for the rest of my life.
 
This doesn’t sound like death’s doorway. This sounds like coming home.
 
This version would have God right with us, every single moment of every single day – within us, around us, through us, above and below us – protecting us, comforting us, guiding us, helping us to see the beauty all around us, and so, so much more.
 
It provides an incredible hope, even as we go through challenges, grief, pain, or suffering of any kind.
 
As we conclude this discussion on Psalm 23, I want to share with you a poem.
 
I’m sharing this poem because of the sense of “coming home” that Psalm 23 can provide – regardless of which version we hear or read.
 
The poem I want to share is called “Please Come Home” by Jane Hooper.
 
I invite you to close your eyes or soften your gaze and allow your body and mind to rest in the words as you hear them.
 
May you hear whatever it is you need to hear today in this poem:
 
Please come home. Please come home.
Find the place where your feet know where to walk
And follow your own trail home.
 
Please come home. Please come home into your own body,
Your own vessel, your own earth.
Please come home into each and every cell,
And fully into the space that surrounds you.
 
Please come home. Please come home to trusting yourself,
And your instincts and your ways and your knowings,
And even the particular quirks of your personality.
 
Please come home. Please come home and once you are firmly there,
Please stay home awhile and come to a deep rest within.
Please treasure your home. Please love and embrace your home.
Please get a deep, deep sense of what it’s like to be truly home.
 
Please come home. Please come home
For you belong here now. You belong among us.
Please inhabit your place fully so we can learn from you,
From your voice and your ways and your presence.
 
Please come home. Please come home.
And when you feel yourself home, please welcome us too,
For we too forget that we belong and are welcome,
And that we are called to express fully who we are.
 
Please come home. Please come home.
You and you and you and me.
 
Please come home. Please come home.
 
Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
God of wonder and beauty, thank you for welcoming us home. Thank you for loving us just as we are. Thank you for being our shepherd - for protecting us, guiding us, offering us grace and compassion, and fiercely loving us such that we can take your love and share it with the world. We are grateful for every walk through the valley, and every climb toward the sun. May your fierce love and compassion surround us everywhere we go. Amen.