Into the Wilderness – Psalm 23

Well, friends, this morning we continue

in our series that we're traveling this

Lent, uh, learning about the wilderness,

talking about what it is to wander in

places that are often unsettling, maybe

lonely, um, where all the tools in our

life that normally work maybe don't work

so well. Uh, I love that so many of you

have begun bringing in rocks to add to

our Kairens that we have around worship.

Um, I know some of you have set them up

in your homes. That's so fun, too.

uh just as a symbol that we walk through

Lent as we approach the cross and the

resurrection. Um there are these path

markers, these trail markers for us on

the way that remind us which direction

we're heading. And so feel free to bring

in a rock if you want to stack them up

and join us. Well, we are going to turn

today to the most famous song lyrics

ever written, Psalm 23. I bet that I

could um just say the first five words

and nearly every one of you could at

least recite a handful of them back to

me. The Lord is my shepherd, right?

Uh it's that well known. There's been

countless uh pieces of music set uh to

the words of Psalm 23. And so hear now

these familiar words, friends.

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 paths of righteousness for his name's

sake. Even 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 shall follow

me all the days of my life, and I shall

dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

And now hear the words of Jesus Christ

from the Gospel of John chapter 10. I am

John 10 · chapter mention

the good shepherd. The good shepherd

lays down his life for the sheep. The

hired hand is not the shepherd and does

not own the sheep. So when he sees the

wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and

runs away. Then the wolf attacks the

flock and scatters it. The man runs away

because he's a hired hand and he cares

nothing for the sheep. 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. I have other sheep that

are not of this sheep pen. I must bring

them also. They too will listen to my

voice and there shall be one flock and

one shepherd. This is the word of the

Lord. Thanks be to God.

You may know this, but a a pastor is

often called like a shepherd of his

flock or his congregation. Um but I or

hers I should say that was very gendered

for a female pastor wasn't it? Um

still in me guys. Uh no but I had a

pastoral mentor who often would remind

us that actually pastors aren't

shepherds. There really aren't. There's

one good shepherd. And so at our very

best maybe we're just sheep dogs. Um we

just bark in the right direction. Yeah.

You like that? That's what it is. Uh we

just try and bark in the right direction

as we all follow our good and faithful

shepherd. And so allow me to bark a

little bit this morning.

Um I don't know how many of you know a

sheep herder personally. I would I would

wager probably not too many of us, but

when Psalm 23 and even John 10 was

penned, right? Uh being a shepherd was a

really common profession.

Lots of shepherds around. And you may

know if you've ever been on a farm that

sheep tend to be pretty skittish,

anxious animals. And so it's vitally

important that the sheep learn their

shepherd's voice. That they learn to

trust and rely on their shepherd to be

counted on to bring them to green

pastures and still waters.

Now notice even in Psalm 23 the mention

of still waters because part of being a

good shepherd is leading your sheep not

somewhere where they might fall in and

get carried away on a dangerous current.

Right? The waters need to be calm

enough, safe enough to provide all that

the sheep needs to flourish.

I don't know about you, but after

witnessing size baptism this morning,

the still waters in Psalm 23, um they

take on a whole other meaning. I think I

can't help but see those baptismal

waters uh running over his head, running

over our own heads that confirm our

belovedness and mark our embrace into

God's larger flock of sheep.

And these first few verses of Psalm 23

that we all know so well, they're so

deeply comforting. They really are. The

promise of green pastures and quiet

waters, the promise that our shepherd is

going to restore our soul, that we're

going to be guided on all the right

paths, we're never going to feel lost.

All that is so incredibly beautiful.

But surely you have noticed if you've

read this psalm a time or two. And I

think actually this is the reason we

love it so much. that in verse four and

five things shift, don't they?

The psalmist gets really honest about

how dangerous it is to walk in the

wilderness.

There is a presence of danger and evil

and the very legitimate crisis of what

it is to feel like we're out there

somewhere scary.

This song doesn't shy away from the

truth that we never just stay in one

place.

not for very long. That there is seasons

of wandering. That our shepherd in fact

will lead us into wilderness spaces

and sometimes those include dark

valleys. Even 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.

And so, yes, God is with us. His rod and

his staff comfort us. But that valley of

the shadow of death, that is no walk in

the park.

Some of you, I know, find yourself there

right now for any number of reasons.

But it's such an important truth for us

to really understand that this is

actually part of being faithful,

wandering through the wilderness.

Because if we forget this,

we're not going to be able to make it

through Lent. We're not going to be able

to make it through to the cross into the

resurrection. We might even find

ourselves wandering in the wilderness

and giving up on our shepherd, choosing

not to follow because it's just too hard

to trust him out here.

But it's important that we know all the

way down to our toes, friends, that it

is inevitable that we will wander out

into the wilderness. This is part of the

life of faith. It is part of spiritual

maturity. We all will find ourselves

being led through the valley of the

shadow of death.

But I want you to remember something

about this.

Our shepherd is not afraid out there.

He's not bothered by the wilderness at

all.

The psalmist declares, "Your rod and

your staff, they comfort me." And I

think that's so beautiful because I

mean, imagine the shepherd. They're

always got a rod or a club to protect

from any animals or violent attack. And

then they always have this hook, you

know, the staff that kind of has a curve

at the end. It's intended to be able to

grab the sheep and pull them back from

danger at the last moment if they need

to. And so the psalmist declaring this

is saying even the presence of that rod

and staff. Even looking over at my

shepherd and realizing he's got it

brings me deep comfort.

That I'm going to be okay. That God's

going to protect me. That I'm going to

make it through this valley of the

shadow of death in one piece. Not alone

out here.

I also really want you guys to know that

there's like a huge prevalence of

movement in this psalm. You may have

noticed that we're on the move. The

shepherd leads and guides. The sheep

walk and move from place to place. The

shepherd's goodness and mercy, they

pursue us.

Notice we move from green pastures and

quiet waters to the valley of the shadow

of death to a place where our enemies

are very real and present among us and

eventually around a table where a cup

overflows.

We we move from the wilderness filled

with our enemies to the house of the

Lord filled with goodness and with love.

And we're assured here that no matter

where we might find ourselves on the

journey today, our shepherd will lead us

and feed us, protect us, and care for us

until we reach our destination.

And so friends, there is nothing that

you might need in your wilderness

wandering today, in your wilderness

wandering through Lent right now that

your shepherd will not provide for you.

He will provide it. He will meet you

there.

This is why the psalmist can declare, "I

shall not be in want.

I will not be in want." That's quite a

declaration to make. Now, let's be real

here. This does not mean that I get

everything I might want from my like

savior. It's like health and wealth,

prosperity, gospel of abundance. That's

not what we're talking about. Not at

all. The meaning of want here is

determined by all that follows in Psalm

23.

Because God is my shepherd, I actually

lack for nothing I really need out here.

that even amid attack from my enemies,

even in the shadow of death itself, God

is going to provide for me. God is going

to get me safely home just as he always

has.

Now, for as famous as this psalm is, I

wonder how many of you have noticed that

there's a significant change of pronouns

in the psalm

in the first couple verses when

everything is all glorious, green

pastures, quiet waters.

The shepherd is he.

He makes me lie down. I believe in him.

He's the article of my faith and trust.

Third person singular. But man, when you

get to verse four, the shepherd is

suddenly you.

You, second person singular. So in that

valley of the shadow of death that we're

in, in the presence of my enemies, when

darkness feels like it's grabbing at me,

in the danger of the wilderness, God is

not someone I just talk about anymore.

God is someone I talk to.

It's quite a shift.

God's not someone I merely believe in.

God is someone I walk with.

God is not someone whose existence I

confess. God is someone I commune with

in the wilderness, even in the worst of

times.

Theologian Ralph Jacobson summarized

what happens in Psalm 23 and what

happens in each of our lives, too.

According to the psalm, the place where

God turns from an it about which we

memorize creedal statements into a you

with whom we have a relationship and in

whom we trust, it is in the darkest

valley.

This is why Jesus so often pulls from

Psalm 23 to talk about what it is to be

in relationship with God.

Because here's the truth. The only way

we can come to the kind of faith that we

see in Psalm 23 is to wander through our

own wilderness,

is to pass through our own dark valleys.

That's the only way we grow like this.

It's why Jesus shows up to his disciples

wandering their own wilderness and says,

"I am the good shepherd.

I lay down my life for my sheep. My

sheep listen to my voice. I know them.

They follow me. I give them eternal

life. They shall never perish. No one

can snatch them out of my hand.

In Luke 15, Jesus tells another sheep

story. You're probably very familiar

with this one, too. He talks about

having a a shepherd who has a hund

sheep. And one of them gets lost and

wanders away. And so, the shepherd

leaves the 99 to go find the one, no

matter how far away they are, to bring

them back into the fold.

Now, there are a bunch of po folks that

have heard that story, the lost sheep

story, and they felt deeply frustrated

by it. Maybe you're one of them. They've

criticized Jesus, saying that's like

asinine and pretty shortsighted

that the mass of the sheep, 99 sheep,

they matter so much more than the one.

Why on earth would a shepherd leave 99

to go after the one? It's insane.

But biblical scholars and probably any

good storytellers would remind those

folks that that's actually not the point

of the story at all. And even more,

something really important happens for

the entire flock. When they realize that

their shepherd will go look for the one

who's been lost, it provides this like

ultimate security to all the sheep

because they know, oh, if I wander off,

that shepherd's going to come and find

me.

If I get lost, he's going to find me,

too.

But if the shepherd doesn't go look for

that one lost sheep, well, then the

whole flock is left feeling like

ultimately insecure here, right?

Well, if if I stumble behind, he might

leave me alone to die.

He might just leave me here.

This is the kind of security, friends,

that we have from our good shepherd,

from our God.

It's who our God is.

In Ezekiel, God promises all the people

wandering in the wilderness of exile, he

says, "I myself will sh search for my

sheep. I will look after them. As a

shepherd looks after his scattered flock

when he's with them, so I will look

after my sheep. I will rescue them from

all the places where they're scattered

on a day of clouds and darkness.

This is who our God is.

Now, Psalm 23, it finds its beautiful

conclusion in declaring that goodness

and mercy or love, it's the same word in

Hebrew, will follow me all the days of

my life and I will dwell in the house of

the Lord forever. It's really beautiful.

But I want you to know something about

that word follow.

That word follow in the Hebrew. Um

in in this English translation that we

all read, you might assume that this is

like just kind of a calm, gentle word,

almost like as if you're wandering your

way home, there's a stray cat like

nipping along at your heels. God's

goodness and love is just going to

follow you home. But actually the word

redafh it is so much stronger than that.

It means to pursue. It means to chase

down.

That's how it's used in every other

place in scripture.

Friends, Jesus Christ

is going to chase you down.

No matter how lost you might feel today,

the goodness and faithfulness and love

of our God will pursue us.

No matter how far we've wandered off

trail,

your good shepherd is with you, friends,

in the wilderness. Whether you recognize

the pursuit or not, whether you can feel

the presence of God like you used to or

not,

the promise of all this text is that God

is with you in the wilderness. You know,

we entered this wilderness Linton season

and this sermon series about four weeks

ago. And you may not have had any idea

what you might discover in the

wilderness, but now a few weeks in, I

hope you're catching a theme.

I hope you're noticing because we've

said it every single week.

The truth of wilderness wandering that

you are going to need to like sink your

teeth in if you find yourself there is

that you are not out there alone.

That no matter where you wander, God

goes with you.

Christ, your good shepherd, isn't just

with you out there, but is actually

leading you

through the dark valley

to a banquet table and a cup that

overflows.

You're not going to be left out there

alone.

And on our dark nights, in our seasons

of death and loss and grief,

God is with us.

God is with us in the wilderness of

chemo rooms.

and therapy.

God is with us in bankruptcy and failed

marriages.

God's with us in miscarriages and

college rejection letters.

God's with us when we can't hear any

more bad news. And when the grief feels

like it's just too much to bear, like we

can barely stay above the water.

God is with us then, too. No matter

where you go, no matter what wilderness

you wander, God is with you today.

And even more, God is chasing you down

with goodness, mercy, and love.

I close by reading you a poem from

author Sarah R. It's actually taken

right from our Lenton devotional. If you

guys haven't picked one up, they're

they're wonderful. There's a bunch more

out there

under the digital bulletin board. But

here's this poem that I think speaks to

this a little. My grandfather was a good

man, but he believed that wilderness

emotions were not to be seen. Cry with

the door closed. Don't dwell on the

negative. Chin up, kid. We've been here

before.

My grandfather was a good man. But I'd

like to say the wilderness is here to

interrupt your previously scheduled

programming.

like water in the desert and setting the

slaves free. The wilderness might be the

very thing we need, the very thing we

dream, the very thing we plead for.

I guess what I'm trying to say is it

never seems appealing to let a bird in

the house,

but if you do, then you might as well

open every window and door. And if you

do, then you just might find yourself

basking in the light, dancing in the

breeze, overwhelmed with the beauty that

an open door brings.

So, I'm opening my door and inviting in

the wind to rustle up my heart and start

over again.

For sweeping truth under the rug has

never gotten us far.

So may the wilderness be like a bird in

your house.

Throw open your doors. The truth must

come out.

Or I'd add, throw open your doors. Your

deeper faith must come out.

Amen.