“But Shepherd, I Want”

Psalm 23

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.
He leads me in right paths
   for his name’s sake.

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.

You prepare a table before me
   in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
   my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
   all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
   my whole life long.

Sermon  -“But shepherd, I Want ” Rev. Loren Tate Mitchell

These passages have been rolling around in my head all week long.  Psalm 23 a passage often referred to in our darkest times of illness or grief, has been a living litany in my mind.  I don’t know why, except to say—I don’t know why.  I don’t know why God takes from among the healthy, living, breathing witnesses who transform our lives by their presence—and then asks why we are looking for them among the dead.  I don’t know why the shadow of death passes over the homes of the wicked, the faithless, the inhumane, and crashes into our kitchens when we’ve painted the blood of the lamb over our doorposts. I don’t know why cancer exists.  I don’t know if the pearly gate and the golden streets of heaven are for real, or why God didn’t answer our faithful pleas and fervent cries. I’m sorry if you thought you were paying me to know, but I don’t. 

Nothing about the way the creator has meticulously designed the world makes sense.  And I don’t think it’s supposed to.  I don’t think God means for us to know all that God knows.  I don’t think God wants us to seek with reason or logic, but rather faith.  We weren’t supposed to eat of the tree of knowledge—we were warned.  And I think maybe it is because we cannot know with the certainty of the Creator.  We were not born as the Word.  The word was with God, and the word was God—and all came into being through him.  But we are not Him.  We are not the Christ.  Hallelujah!  

The problem is that we do not want a shepherd.  We do not want to be made to lie down in green pastures or be led beside still waters.  We want our own paths, to hell with the right ones… we want to blaze a trail for our own name’s sake! We do not want to sit at a table with those people.  We don’t have time to sit down at a meal anyway.  Anointing our heads with oil sounds messy, we don’t want goodness and mercy to follow us, we want it to be us and the house of the Lord better have single rooms with a view!-- The psalm says, “I shall not want” but we do want, thank you very much! We want tangible things to show for our efforts.  We want life to be simple. We want our people to be happy.  We want life to be fair (for us) and we want to live forever in a bubble of our own making.  And we want God to give us whatever we ask for, whenever we ask for it.  If it were that easy though, we could just pack up and go home.  No need for prayers or pews. 

Our culture breeds dissatisfaction within us and contempt for that which is out of reach or incomprehensible.  We struggle to accept that God’s gifts for us are true—life, community, creation, the capacity for food, shelter, and cherishing one another. 

What Psalm 23 is telling us is that God provides for the needs of the nation…not what they desire, but what they need.  God provides guidance, discipline, presence, and protection.  And guess what? The good news for us is that we do not need to have all the answers in order for God’s providence to be with us.  No, we are justified by the gift of God’s grace, and through  the gift of God’s grace.  God is faithful when we are not.  So faithful that the shepherd became flesh and laid down his life for the sheep. 

Psalm 23 is personal in a way that other psalms are not.  It says, “the Lord is my  shepherd.” The psalm is set in the present tense, and it is personal.  Rev. William Brosend writes, “The Lord is my shepherd, who leads and restores; I fear no evil; your rod and staff comfort; you prepare and anoint.  Only verse 6 is translated with a future tense, ‘shall follow, shall dwell.’ So why, if I say, Psalm 23, do you ask, ‘ who died?’  That makes about as much sense as treating 1 Corinthians 13 as if Paul wrote it for a wedding liturgy.”  He goes on to say, “Psalm 23 is the repetition of God’s relation to his people, particularly in how he relates to his people in the living of one individual person.”[1] 

Here’s the crux of the text.  “In death’s shadow and darkness, Christ accompanies us.” The how and why do not matter so much.  “Into the hell of God forsakenness, Christ descended, so that even when we make our beds in hell, we will not be without him.  As the messenger of the empty tomb announced, “He is going ahead of you” not only to prepare a dwelling place for us at the end of life, but also to prepare a table in the midst of life with all its joys and sorrows, its hopes and fears.  Christ has promised to remain with us as the good shepherd even to the end of time, so that in life and in death we may be confident that we do not belong to the powers of evil, sin and death, but to him of whom we can say with confidence and trust, ‘the Lord is my shepherd.’”[2]

The passage from Revelation today backs this up.  There is tension between those who worship the Lamb and the powers that be in the human empires.  Pain and suffering are a part of any Christian life. We see this in Rev. 7:14—the ones who are robed in white are the ones who have come out of the great ordeal, they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the lamb.  They experienced hardship but also can rest in the promise, they will not know hunger or thirst, the sun will not scorch them, the shepherd will guide them to springs of the water of life and God will wipe away their tears.   Can you imagine how wonderful it must be?  Can you imagine our loved ones seeing what John saw—all tribes, all languages, all creatures standing before the throne of God, worshiping.  It is because they have come through the trials that they worship God--day and night!

Dana Ferguson relates, “Listening to the promise of the text, we learn a lot about letting go—of the definitions of victory enforced by our culture, of our great need to control all the circumstances of our lives, including their ultimate outcome.  Every person in this passage has come through a great ordeal.  Every robe needs washing.  Their suffering has prepared them for worship and for victory—but by God’s definition, not their own.” She goes on to say, “whatever ordeals we are facing—some of our preparations may not be what we want.  Accepting the food that God offers us, even when it does not taste as good as we had hoped.  Other days the food will be delicious, as we study, pray, and worship together, putting on ‘spiritual weight’ for whatever lies ahead.  Ordeals are not all God has in store for us.  There is also joy, as we share in the beloved lives of those around us and celebrate the good things of life.  All of these are ways that we feed ourselves, and God feeds us as we live in between times.”[3]

So, I don’t know much.  But I’m learning to trust.  And by God, that’s enough.  Amen.

[1] William Brosend, Feasting On The Word Year C, Vol 2 (Louisville: WJK Press, 2009) p 435

[2] John B. Rogers, Feasting On The Word Year C, Vol 2 (Louisville: WJK Press, 2009) p 436

[3] Dana Ferguson Feasting On The Word Year C, Vol 2 (Louisville: WJK Press, 2009) p 442