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God Is Enough

Psalm 23:1–6 NIV

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
  He makes me lie down in green pastures,

he leads me beside quiet waters,
  he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
  for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
  through the darkest valley,
I will 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 your goodness and love will follow me
  all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
  forever.

Consider This

We live in the valley of the shadow of death. We always have. Sometimes it takes something like a global pandemic to wake us up to the reality. A few weeks back, as this virus was making its way across the ocean toward our land my instincts guided me in search of a fresh word. I landed on a familiar text: the twenty-third Psalm.

Psalm 23 is one of the most comprehensive, profound, and prolific texts in all of Scripture. It stunningly captures the nature of a life-long, personal, pilgrimage walk with God. If Psalm 84 is the view of the pilgrim way from the outside looking in, Psalm 23 is the view from the inside out. Over the next six days we will walk our way through the green pastures, still waters, right paths, valley of death, enemy-defying, goodness-and-mercy chasing masterwork of poetic prayer. We will repeat the whole chapter each day, bringing our focus to one of the only six verses. I will challenge you to read aloud and hear, to ruminate, rememberize, research, and rehearse the text. Before we are done, this will become far more than a valley of the shadow of death text—it will be a life text.

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

People who say such things, and really mean them, know the most important truth in life. 

The LORD is…

The Lord, the God of heaven and earth, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, the Ancient of Days, the Lion of Judah, the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer of all that was and is and ever shall be; this God is, period. But it’s not enough to leave it there.

The LORD is my…

This God is my Shepherd. My Shepherd. Mine. And yours. Not ours just yet, because there is no ours without there first being a mine and a yours. I am pretty adamant about the second person plural you of the Bible; that the relationship with God is communal, always personal but never individual. I want to be crystal clear on this matter of pronouns though. There is no second person plural without first person singular. Unless this God is my God, to say he is our God rings hollow as a meaningless claim. But it’s not enough to leave it there.

The LORD is my shepherd…

This claim—my Shepherd—translates every doctrine, every creed, every canon, and every orthodox formulation and theological framework ever recorded concerning the Christian faith and brings it into the fold of personal relationship. Not us. Not we. But me, myself, and I—personal, attached, bonded. But it’s not enough to leave it there.

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

This Shepherd knows me, the real me, the true me, the one behind every lie; the me behind every shaded truth of my true identity; the me behind every need to appear better than I am; every falsehood, mask, unholy attachment, misspent longing, craving for control, and striving manipulation to make my own way, fulfill my own desires, meet my own needs, satisfy my own ambitions, be better than everybody else, and build my own kingdom. But it’s not enough to leave it there.

This Shepherd who knows me—the good and true, the bad and ugly—this Shepherd loves me, wants the best for me, wills to shape my desires and then to fulfill them; delights in me, rejoices, yes, even sings over me. He loves me especially, extravagantly, and eternally.

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

This is everything. And because this is everything, I lack nothing.

People who say such things, and increasingly mean them, know the most important truth in life: God is enough. In the darkest of days, this God, our God, my God, the God and Father of our Lord, Jesus Christ, is enough.

Everything in him is mine. And everything is mine in him.

Everything in me is his. And everything is his in me.

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

The Prayer

Father, in these days of uncertainty, one thing is certain—you are our Shepherd. It is not enough to know about you and even who you are. I want to know you close, as my Shepherd. I want to know your voice, and trust your heart, and obey your whisper. Open my mind and heart today to draw near to you; maybe like never before. Come Holy Spirit, make fear subside and train my faith to arise. I pray in Jesus’ name, amen.

The Question

Name your fears today. How does Psalm 23 speak faith into your fears?

I Lack Nothing

Psalm 23:1–6 NIV

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
  He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
  he refreshes my soul.

He guides me along the right paths
  for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
  through the darkest valley,
I will 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 your goodness and love will follow me
  all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
  forever. 

Consider This

Sometimes the poetry gets in the way of the point.

As I have begun working through this NIV translation of the Twenty-Third Psalm I find myself chafing against it a bit. I am so used to the funeral version, which would be the King James Version, and all its finely poetic Elizabethan English. The opening line is grooved in my soul like a well-worn path: “The LORD is my shepherd. I shall not want.” Hence my opening line, “Sometimes the poetry gets in the way of the point.”

“I lack nothing,” says everything about my reality if the Lord is my Shepherd. “I shall not want,” says something about my behavior if the Lord is my Shepherd. See the difference here? The Hebrew text seems to favor the more recent NIV translation: “I lack nothing.” To say, “I have a good Shepherd, therefore, I lack nothing,” is quite a different thing than to say, “I have a good Shepherd, therefore, I should not want anything.” We could spend a week of discipleship right here, but we must press on. In lieu of that, I want to ask you to repeat those eight words out loud—The LORD is my Shepherd, I lack nothing—for the next minute. It will have impact. Do it. Tell Siri or Google or whoever you tell to set a timer for one minute and do it. It is for your soul.

“The LORD is my Shepherd, I lack nothing.” Now, besides the problem of the glaring comma splice, we are good—on to the text of the day:

He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he refreshes my soul.

There is a great difference between, “The LORD is my Shepherd,” and the more common bumper-sticker sentiment, “Jesus is my co-pilot.” I am not the pilot of my own ship. Nor am I the co-pilot. I do not need someone to help me when I am in a pinch. I need constant guidance, provision, care, and direction. I am a sheep. Jesus is the shepherd. He knows what I need, and he supplies it. Green pastures for grazing and later for stretching out and resting when I’m full? Check! Still waters to drink from, with their serenity in the midst of anxiety? Check! Those are not goods and services the Shepherd provides. They are the fruit of his presence. They come with the Shepherd.

I still mostly live with a “God, help me” mentality. And I need a lot of help. I need help with my kids. I need help with my job. I need help with making ends meet. I need help with my diet and exercise. I need help with my sadness. I need help with my insecurities. And we all need help with the unpredictable turns all of our lives are taking in these dark days of disease. Jobs are being furloughed or lost altogether, yet the bills keep coming. I don’t need to tell you. “God, help me” tends to be the prayer of the hour.

I wonder, though, if this might be a moment to grow, to stretch our souls into the shape of a much more expansive prayer. Rather than “God, help me,” Psalm 23 invites what may be a much larger prayer. Try this one on for size: “God, have me.” Notice how these 109 words of Psalm 23, while a prayer, don’t ask for anything. Instead, they declare everything—about the God who has us. Might we seize these days to grow in a “God have me” mindset. If the Lord is my Shepherd, he has me. And I lack nothing. Green pastures? Check! Still waters? Check! I don’t need to worry about all my needs. The LORD is my Shepherd, I lack nothing. I need only learn to live in an abiding relationship with the Shepherd; listening and hearing, watching and waiting, receiving and giving. The LORD is my Shepherd, I lack nothing.

This is not a statement of intention. It is a declaration of faith. It doesn’t say he will help me find green pastures and he will help me locate still waters or he will help me do a better job with my soul care. Help me. Help me. Help me. That’s transactional faith. It’s good faith but it is not goal faith.

“Have me.” That is transcendent faith. This is the stuff of the deep shift we are into now. The shift is from how God helps me to how God has me. The shift is from God is my co-pilot, on standby to help as needed to: The LORD is my Shepherd, I lack nothing.

People who say such things are making the shift. They increasingly find their soul restored not so much by the green pastures and the still waters but by the presence of God himself. And they are becoming bold, confident, unafraid, and free from anxiety.

The Prayer

Father, in these days of uncertainty, one thing is certain—you are our Shepherd. I feel like I need so much help and you are so faithful to help me. I want to make the deep shift, from “help me” prayers to a “have me” life. I need you to help me with this. And there I go again. You are my Shepherd. I lack nothing. Yes, Lord, with you I lack nothing. Have me. Come Holy Spirit, make fear subside and train my faith to arise. I pray in Jesus’ name, amen.

The Question

Are you grasping this challenge to shift from “help me” to “have me” faith? What might this mean for you?

How to Receive Guidance from the Shepherd

Psalm 23:1–6 NIV

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
  He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
  he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
  for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
  through the darkest valley,
I will 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 your goodness and love will follow me
  all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
  forever.

Consider This

We need guidance like never before in these uncertain times. Every decision seems harder to make as the stakes seem to be raised on everything. Many are losing their jobs and livelihoods. I’ve got good news.

He guides me along the right paths
  for his name’s sake.

There’s an old story about a tour group in the Holy Land. After hearing a teaching on the Twenty-Third Psalm and how the Shepherd always goes ahead of the sheep to lead, guide, and protect them, the group went out to the countryside in search of such a demonstration. The guide sent them to a familiar pasture where they noticed a flock of frazzled sheep coming over the hillside with no shepherd out in front. Instead the shepherd came behind the flock. A bit bewildered, one of the women approached the shepherd and asked him about the apparently suspect teaching they had just received. He replied, “Oh, no. I am not the shepherd. I am the butcher!”

It reminds me of one of the most oft-cited and proof-texted scripture verses in the Bible: John 10:10. “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”

It should be noted that this text comes from the larger passage where Jesus speaks of himself as both the Gate for the sheep and the Good Shepherd.

The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice. (John 10:3–5)

“I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me—just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep” (John 10:14–15).

Now consider today’s text in that light:

He guides me along the right paths
  for his name’s sake.

We follow Jesus. He leads us. He speaks. We listen. It can seem so ethereal and nebulous and inaccessible. How do we know the voice in our head from the voice of Jesus? Let me suggest a three-step process whereby we grow in perceiving and pursuing the guidance of the Good Shepherd along the right paths. Inspiration. Imitation.
Impartation.

Inspiration comes from the inspired text—the Bible. We must keep these inspired texts before us, ever in the foreground of our vision. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are the premiere guides for discipleship. I am convicted as I write of my own present lack of
immersion in these miraculous Gospel accounts. Am I paying attention to these ancient texts and being inspired by the whole story at ever-increasing levels of detail?

Imitation comes from inspiration. It means doing the kinds of things Jesus does in the Gospels. It means obeying his teaching and imaginatively putting into practice his words and deeds. On one occasion, Jesus told his friend Martha, though she was anxious about many things, only one thing was necessary. He pointed to her sister, Mary, who had found it by sitting at his feet. Am I engaging this text at the level of practice in my own life? Am I practicing the story?

Impartation comes as the fruit of inspiration and imitation. If inspiration and imitation are practice, impartation is playing the game itself. It is improvisational. We know the kinds of things Jesus did. We have practiced them. By the power of the Spirit, we have his mind. Now he can impart guidance to us along right paths for his name’s sake. By the power of the Word and Spirit, He is in us and we are in Him. As the psalmist puts it, we learn to “run in the path of his commands” (Ps. 119:32).

He guides me along the right paths
  for his name’s sake.

Stress and anxiety would drive us from behind, pushing and pressing us into bad decisions and wrong paths. The Good Shepherd would lead us from the front, calling out with his distinctive voice to walk in this way or that one. He has a will and plan for us even in the smallest steps. The Bible never says the Lord helps those who help themselves. To the contrary, it says he helps those who learn to trust and depend on him.

The Prayer

Father, in these days of uncertainty, one thing is certain—you are our Shepherd. I give you my stress and anxiety, and I receive your peace and guidance. I am weary of the drivenness of my life and the world around me. I exchange my complexity for your simplicity. I want to become like you, Jesus. Impart your mind, heart, will, and ways to me. Come, Holy Spirit, make fear subside and train my faith to arise. I pray in Jesus’ name, amen.

The Question

How might inspiration, imitation, and impartation become a growing and flourishing movement in your life?

Fear No Evil

Psalm 23:1–6 NIV

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
  He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
  he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
  for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
  through the darkest valley,
I will 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 your goodness and love will follow me
  all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
  forever.

Consider This

We come to the dreaded valley of the shadow of death.

“The darkest valley” just doesn’t seem to do it justice. Right?

Let’s dig a little deeper. The Hebrew more accurately renders into English as a deep, dark, death-like shadow. Allow me to take a crack at an amplified translation of the verse.

Even though I walk through the deepest, darkest, shadow-of-death-like valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You are seeing the point. COVID-19 is the present deepest, darkest, shadow-of-death-like valley we find ourselves in. It’s interesting how this particular Hebrew word for this valley occurs eighteen times in the Bible, ten of which come from the book of Job. Sounds about right. It also shows up in the famous prophecy of Isaiah 9:2, “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.”

And all of this could be an adventure in missing the point if we don’t get to the real point here. No matter how deep, dark, shadowy, and intolerably death-like the valley may be—no matter how contagious and deadly the virus, no matter how slavish the addiction, how obsessive and compulsive the disorder, how terminal the cancer, how grievous the divorce, how painful the betrayal, how devastating the death—even of your only child… Here’s the point:

I will fear no evil

It doesn’t say I will not feel sadness or grieve horrifically or suffer depression or be angry with God or struggle to believe or even fear the worst possible outcome. It says,

I will fear no evil

It doesn’t say I won’t get the coronavirus or my worst nightmare will not happen or my marriage will survive or my kids will not have significant problems or the cancer will be cured or I will not fail the test or I won’t have to go to rehab… again…  It says,

I will fear no evil

Now, that is a curiosity to me. I will fear no evil. Why that? It means Satan, demonic powers, and all the forces of evil and darkness cannot and will not prevail against you. It is one thing to lose the battle with cancer, another thing entirely to lose the war with Satan. Remember the Good Shepherd context of John 10:10—the most favorite Bible verse: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”

What if the threat is not evil? What if the real threat is the fear of evil? There is something deep within each of us; something primal and even ancient, that fears evil. What if it is this fear that brings us into anxiety and leads us into sin, which shields us from awareness of the presence of God, our Good Shepherd? What if it is our fear of evil that keeps us from the abundant life of Jesus—even in the midst of the deepest, darkest, shadowiest, deadliest valleys of life?

This is ponderous. I’ll admit it. But I believe the Lord put it on my heart to say it—and this:

There is only one reason we can say, “I will fear no evil.” It is not because evil is not powerful and all around us all the time. It is this:

for you are with me;

And maybe that’s what the rod and the staff are all about.

your rod and your staff,
  they comfort me.

Maybe, at times, especially in these valleys, we need the fear of evil poked and prodded out of us. Maybe we need to be hooked by the staff and pulled back onto the path because of where our fear of evil is taking us.

Even though I walk
  through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
  for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
  they comfort me.

We must not allow ourselves to be bullied by evil into fear. We know the one thing more powerful than fear: faith. And we know the other thing more powerful than fear: love. They know “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear” (1 John 4:18).

This is who the Shepherd is. This is what the Shepherd does. This is why we must know the Shepherd today more than we knew him yesterday; and why we will need to know him more tomorrow than we knew him today.

The Prayer

Father, in these days of uncertainty, one thing is certain—you are our Shepherd. I confess, even beyond my awareness, something deep and primal in me fears evil and it drives me in an incomprehensible way into the law of sin and death. But you, who are in me, are greater than he who is in the world. You, Jesus, are my Shepherd, my good Shepherd. You are with me. I will fear no evil. And I welcome your rod and your staff. Come, Holy Spirit, make fear subside and train my faith to arise. I pray in Jesus’ name,
amen.

The Question

So how do you understand this ponderous thought today about the fear of evil? And how do you understand the comfort of the rod and the staff of the Good Shepherd?

This Is How We Fight Our Battles

Psalm 23:1–6 NIV

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
  He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
  he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
  for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
  through the darkest valley,
I will 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 your goodness and love will follow me
  all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
  forever.

Consider This

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

In the presence of enemies we might expect a battle. Instead, Jesus, our Good Shepherd, prepares a table for us. He sets a feast for us in the midst of our enemies in the middle of the battleground. And he is the feast.

One of my favorite recent songs of worship comes out of a community called UpperRoom in Dallas. The song is called “Fight My Battles.” Though it is one of the most repetitive songs I’ve ever sung, it’s one I don’t tire of repeating. It makes the biblical and theological connection between the table of the Lord and this table prepared for us in the presence of our enemies. Over and over and over we sing, “This is how I fight my battles,” almost twenty times each time through the song, referencing the body and blood of Jesus and the weapons of praise and thanksgiving. After singing the song through five times and then another five for good measure, as worship leaders like to do, it comes to about a hundred repetitions of this one line, “This is how I fight my battles.”

But is this how I actually fight my battles—sitting at the table of the Lord in the presence of my enemies in the deep dark valleys of life? This seems so passive. How can one be so relaxed and at peace in the presence of such threats? It raises the other refrain in the song, which repeats itself sixteen times. “It may look like I’m surrounded, but I’m surrounded by you.”

But it doesn’t stop there: “You anoint my head with oil.”

It’s interesting to think about the author of this psalm, David. When the prophet Samuel came to his house to anoint the next king of Israel, David was not even considered by his father as a candidate. He was out shepherding the sheep. Samuel sent for him and he turned out to be the Lord’s choice as the next king.

“So Samuel took the horn of oil and anointed him in the presence of his brothers, and from that day on the Spirit of the Lord came powerfully upon David” (1 Sam. 16:13).

Something tells me David remembered this anointing as he wrote the psalm.

It doesn’t stop there. The extraordinary, extravagant blessing of the presence of God keeps leveling up.

my cup overflows.

More than enough. My memory goes to the famed wedding at Cana of Galilee when they ran out of wine. Jesus transformed water into wine to the tune of one hundred eighty gallons. Talk about cups overflowing! This is our God—above and beyond and more than enough.

Remember where we began.

The LORD is my shepherd: I lack nothing.
  He makes me lie down in green pastures: I lack nothing.
he leads me beside quiet waters: I lack nothing.
  he refreshes my soul: I lack nothing.
He guides me along the right paths
  for his name’s sake:
I lack nothing.
Even though I walk
  through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
  for you are with me:
I lack nothing.
your rod and your staff,
  they comfort me:
I lack nothing.

You prepare a table before me
  in the presence of my enemies:
I lack nothing.
You anoint my head with oil: I lack nothing.
  my cup overflows: I lack nothing.

This is how we fight our battles. All the news we hear would convince us we are surrounded by the coronavirus. Isn’t that the point of the song? “It may look like I’m surrounded but I’m surrounded by you.”

The Prayer

Father, in these days of uncertainty, one thing is certain—you are our Shepherd. This is how I fight my battles. Let me say it and sing it until I get it and believe it. In your presence and by your provision I lack nothing. Oh how I want this declaration of faith to destroy my fear and define my life. Thank you for preparing such an extravagant table for me in the most difficult seasons of life. Thank you for anointing my head with the oil of your Spirit. Thank you for overflowing my cup. Come, Holy Spirit, make fear subside and train my faith to arise. I pray in Jesus’ name, amen.

The Question

How are you doing with fear as it relates to this contagion sweeping across our land? You realize disease is a form of evil, right? And you know you need not fear, evil don’t you? Because you know that God is with you.

All the Days of My Life and Forever

Psalm 23:1–6 NIV

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
  He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
  he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
  for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
  through the darkest valley,
I will 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 your goodness and love will follow me
  all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
  forever.

Consider This

So we come to the end of our six-day journey through the six verses of Psalm 23. In the face of so much news of peril these days, Psalm 23 delivers news of promise. We could spend another six weeks and still not exhaust the insights this ancient prayer holds. In fact, that is the invitation. Make it your daily prayer for the next six weeks. It will continue to inspire your spirit as it imparts comfort in the face of fear and courage to your heart.

This is part of the mysterious nature of Scripture. Each text has a fixed meaning and yet it keeps revealing more and more meaning—never new but always fresh. The Word of God constantly speaks on different levels into our hearts and minds concerning the myriad multiple layers and multiple circumstances of our lives. It’s why we are never done with a particular chapter or verse of Scripture. Though the text of Scripture is as fixed as the sun and though it means today the same thing it meant when it was first inspired and written, there is always more of ourselves to give and more of God to receive. This dreaded virus is no different, just another verse of the same old song this world wants us to sing. The song of Scripture, to the contrary, is the same new song, ever fixed and yet brimming with fresh melody and movement.

We began with our Good Shepherd in front of us, leading the way. Today we close with this:

Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life,

This is the nature of the glorious greatness of the goodness of God—ever before us, ever behind us, and ever with us. It reminds us of another great psalm—Psalm 139—and these words: “You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me” (v.5). It reminds us of the great prayer at the heart of St. Patrick’s Breastplate:

Christ, be with me, Christ before me,
Christ behind me, Christ in me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ where I lie, Christ where I sit, Christ where I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

It takes yesterday’s theme to a whole new level. “It may look like I’m surrounded, but I’m surrounded by you.” And as if all of these blessings for “all the days of my life” were not enough, there’s yet more:

and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

With my oldest son in college and my two daughters at driving age, I still get to drive my youngest son, Sam, to school every day. I have always tried to lay claim to the time in the car for “versing” the Word of God together. It’s a part of that Deuteronomy 6 effort to “talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.” For years now, on most days, we recite the Twenty-Third Psalm back and forth together. All at once simple and sublime, Psalm 23 is our clarity, our certainty, and our comfort. This is the prayer, for which to pray it, is to know it answered.

The version we have rememberized follows (Sam’s part is in bold).

The Lord is my shepherd: I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in 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 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 will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord, forever.

Psalm 91:1 says, “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.”

It is a good word about sheltering in place. Psalm 23 shows us the shape of such a shelter. In it we find everything it references—from green pastures and still waters to the peace of his presence in the darkest valley. And the shadow of the valley of death? It doesn’t hold a candle to the shadow of the Almighty.

The Prayer

Father, in these days of uncertainty, one thing is certain—you are our Shepherd. Thank you for Psalm 23. Thank you for a prayer that declares its own answer. Etch these words in the lining of my soul. Let them be for me like a perfectly fitting garment. Give me such confidence I need not even look back, because I know goodness and mercy are following close on my heels. Come Holy Spirit, make fear subside and train my faith to arise. I pray in Jesus’ name, amen.

The Question

Could God really be this good? Do you ever marvel at the sheer truth of a truth that seems too good to be true? It’s true, you know. It really is.

A word from J.D. Walt,
Sower-in-Chief for Seedbed

I hope these six readings from Psalm 23 have comforted, encouraged, and even bolstered your faith. I would like to invite you to join me and a growing global community each day on The Seedbed Daily Text where we work our way through a shared text of Scripture.

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