Psalm 23: He Makes Me Lie Down in Green Pastures

So as we enter the fall, we are entering, studying, and contemplating Psalm 23.

We're just taking it phrase by phrase and breaking it apart each Sunday.

So last week we took the first verse, The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

This week we're going to begin into the second verse, but just focus on the first phrase of the second verse.

Now, King David in the Old Testament, he wrote Psalm 23.

What's interesting about David is that David was not just a king, powerful, probably had plenty of provision for himself, but before that he was a shepherd.

So he knows about sheep.

And in Psalm 23, he's writing about sheep, and he's writing about being a shepherd.

This guy had been poor and beaten down and oppressed and on the run and then flips around and he becomes a king.

So he has something to say to us.

Wherever we're at.

And he has something to say to us, not about God giving us a pain-free life, but about a God who's fiercely caring, and like we just told the kindergartners, he's with us and he's for us.

So Psalm 23, 1 and 2 on the screens, the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside still waters.

So for today, he makes me lie down in green pastures.

I love this promise.

All week I've been like, oh, what a great promise.

And then about halfway through the week I realize this kind of frustrates me also.

Like I love it and I need it because I'm exhausted or I'm weary or usually I'm anxious.

But then it kind of frustrates me because I'm often exhausted and anxious, and I'm not experiencing this how I want to.

I'm not, he makes me lie down in green pastures.

What a promise.

Like, yeah, like I want more of that.

So it's sort of like a little bit of a frustration there.

So this morning we're gonna break apart this phrase that is talking contentment to us and a quietness of heart and a calmness.

So first we're gonna talk about lie down.

We're gonna start in the middle, and then we're gonna move to the end, Green Pastures, and then we're gonna jump back and talk about He Makes Me.

Ten years ago, Tim Kreider wrote a piece, not bad, in the New York Times, entitled The Busy Trap.

Piece went viral.

It's been about 10 years.

I think it summarizes us today just as well.

He says almost everyone that he knows is busy.

And he says, worst yet is they like saying it.

Like we kind of like saying it.

Like I'm just busy, you know, how is it?

I'm busy, just so busy, crazy busy.

Right?

It kind of makes us feel important in a way.

And Kreider kind of calls us out, all of us, including himself, about this way that we do this.

It's our sort of modern way of justifying our value and ourselves, to earn our worth by our busyness.

And here's what he writes It's almost always people whose lamented busyness is purely self-imposed.

Work and obligations they've taken on voluntarily.

Amen.

Anybody just want to say that, yep, got it this week, felt that.

Classes and activities they've encouraged their kids to participate in.

They're busy because of their own ambition or drive or anxiety, because they're addicted to busyness and dread what they might have to face in its absence.

Almost everyone I know is busy.

They feel anxious and guilty when they aren't either working or doing something to promote their work.

It might summarize you, it might summarize your schedule, but it's possible also, just maybe it just kind of like summarizes your heart.

It's possible.

Now, the New York Times online, this article is posted, and here's the painting that they have posted with the article.

This painting, this piece is entitled So Very Busy.

And it's by a Belgian artist.

Forgive me, all Belgians here, Brecht Vanderbrock.

Alright, so let's just be cultured for a moment, okay?

Let's get artsy.

Alright, just for a moment.

Just get artsy, and just sort of let your eyes focus in on like all the different details of the painting.

Just let them move around the details.

An art friend once told me, you look at the art, and then over time the art begins to look at you.

I didn't know that because I'm not artsy.

But now just kind of zoom out at the painting.

Just zoom out.

So don't be f you don't have to worry about the details.

Just kind of zoom out as a whole.

And how do you feel?

Does anybody want to tell me how you feel?

There's no right or wrong.

There might be something ridiculous said, but there's just going to be no right or wrong.

Anyone just want to tell you how you feel in front of this painting?

Told you we're gonna get artsy.

Chaotic, stressed, it's angry.

It's not calming.

I looked at this several times throughout the week.

At first, I thought it made me feel chaotic, angry.

And then I started to realize, oh, it's revealing that I already have that in me.

Like I don't really think shapes and colors have that much power over me, but I do think it can reveal something that's in me.

I live a lot of life with a busy heart.

And then we have David.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

The word lie down means to lie down or recline or stretch out.

So point number one is this to lie down means we surrender into.

It's like a giving up, a reclining, a stretching out into God's lavish provision for us.

Maybe after a long day, or maybe you're away from your house traveling for a couple days, and you get into your bed and you have new sheets on.

You always know the new sheet night, right?

Like the new sheet night, you get under the and you stretch out.

It's a different stretching out on new sheet night is you stretch out and it feels so good, you know, and you're stretched out, like you are really reclining into this bed, especially if you've been away from home, right?

Lying down is always kind of like giving up, the stretching out into.

And hopefully, when we get into our beds, like we're leading toward falling asleep.

I love what theologian Frederick Butner writes about falling asleep in his book Whistling in the Dark.

He says this about falling asleep, all in the context of surrendering to God.

It's a surrender, a laying down of arms.

Whatever plans you're making, whatever work you're up to your ears in, whatever pleasures you're enjoying, whatever sorrows or anxieties or problems you're in the midst of, you set them aside.

Find a place to stretch out somewhere, close your eyes and wait for sleep.

One of the worst nights' sleep I've had in the past few years was this past New Year's Eve.

We decided to spend New Year's Eve in St.

Simon's Island for a couple nights, five of us in a small hotel room.

Mistake number one.

The other thing is, is by the time we get there, we realize three out of the five of us have COVID.

And hey, I know you were asymptomatic.

You told everybody 17 times you're asymptomatic, you got like some superpower.

I get it.

We were not, we felt like trash.

So we're in a hotel room feeling like trash, three out of the five of us.

Finally, we fall asleep.

Everybody's asleep.

I'm not asleep yet because that hotel room air conditioner unit, that'll keep you up all night, right?

Like on and off, on and off, just keep you up.

Fireworks are going outside, it's New Year's Eve, they're having a great time.

Isn't that great?

You have COVID for like trash, they're out there celebrating, having a great, probably getting COVID at that point.

I kind of wished it on them.

Maybe I should go join their party and just breathe.

Once an hour I'm sitting up, agitated, coughing.

I probably went to the restroom seven times that night just for entertainment to have something to do, really.

And then questions are gonna start rattling around during the night.

Will my other two kids get sick?

What day is this?

What day?

What day number am I on?

And like starting to count your days and how many days, and then school starting.

Like, you're doing the day count.

How long am I gonna feel like this?

Like, do you feel you know, and you know, how long do you feel like this?

How long do you feel bad?

How long am I gonna feel?

Why am I not falling asleep?

I'm deathly tired.

Why am I not falling asleep?

And then finally, I just got to the final question that was like, how long is it till 4 30 a.m.

where I'm pulling the dad card, I'm waking this whole room up, and we're getting in the car and we're going home, putting new sheets on the bed.

I'm gonna slide in, I'm gonna stretch out for a few days.

And of course, this happened, you know, with COVID, right?

Like, of course, this inability to fall asleep, right?

You feel like trash, you know.

But it also happened like two weeks ago, and I felt great.

Like I'm, you know, prime health.

I'm feeling great.

And I quietly slide into bed.

Christy's already fully asleep, like normal, it's very annoying.

And I slide in nice and quiet.

I was perfectly tired on the couch, and somehow, in that 30-foot walk down the hallway, something happens.

Dangerous 30 feet.

I get into the bed, and all of a sudden, it's like the two things, you know, in my work life.

You know, the 10 things in my work life that are great.

I'm not thinking about them.

This is the two things, all of a sudden, I'm like projecting onto them more agony than they, you know, they really deserve.

Or you're stuck thinking about the one thing with the one kid.

You're just doing that.

Or suddenly.

It's strange how this happens.

Like in a flash, like you lie your head on the pillow, and like a flash, you can feel a rejection from 15 years ago.

Isn't it crazy?

Like it, like it's like it just happened.

It's wild.

You can replay a comment made to you.

And then you're just back on the couch eating a bag of Doritos in the middle of the night, you know, watching Seinfeld or whatever you do this with.

You've been there, right?

The inability to kind of let go, like to recline, to stretch out into God's lavish provision for us.

Trust is hard.

Like this surrendering part, this surrendering to God, this trust thing, this surrender, like it's the hardest, easiest thing you'll do.

Like, in theory, it should be really easy.

Like, let go and let God.

Like, well, I'm 43, I'm still struggling with this.

This is really hard.

Will God be present?

Will he be enough?

If I stop dwelling on that thing, will it be enough for me?

Will it be enough in that problem?

David says he makes me lie down in green pastures.

And David knew a lot about sheep because he was a shepherd.

And we're a lot like sheep.

We fear things that might hurt us.

We have anxiety when there's conflict with other sheep.

We can become frantic when we think, just think that there's the possibility that we won't have provision.

Or whatever your definition of enough is.

We just can't rest if there's an aggravating circumstance.

But this is what David also knew.

When the sheep are convinced that the shepherd actually knows what he's doing, is actually sufficient, changes everything.

So this brings us into the last phrase, in green pastures.

Point number two, God, as good shepherd is intently thoughtful and proactive in his care for you.

David is saying he is a good shepherd, not a pain-free life.

I mean, David's kind of, he's saying this by saying green pastures, because this would be such a, this is such a surprise, it's such a difficulty for a shepherd to find green pastures in the land of Israel.

I mean, Israel was rugged.

Israel is rugged, it's wilderness, it's barren, it's rocky, there's canyons, it's it's dry.

But sheep can survive.

If they have a very thoughtful, proactive shepherd.

David is saying God is like that for us.

Not pain-free, because it is a barren land.

But he, as shepherd, is sufficient to guide us through.

He's committed.

There's a well-known story where Jesus enters the house of two sisters.

You probably remember the story.

It's in Luke 10.

Mary and Martha, they respond very differently to how when Jesus shows up.

Verse 38, let me read the story through verse 42.

Now, as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village, and a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house.

She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to his teaching.

But Martha was distracted with much serving.

And she went up to him and said, Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone?

Tell her then to help me.

But the Lord answered her, Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things.

But one thing is necessary.

Mary has chosen the good portion which will not be taken from her.

Martha, this anxious sheep, thinks she needs to supply everything.

She's going to impress Jesus.

She's anxious.

She's self-righteous in how she judges her sister.

I would guess because of being anxious and self-righteous, she's probably exhausted.

She doesn't yet know that she can lie down.

Trust.

She's still trying to impress Jesus, but not Mary.

Right?

Mary's reclined, stretched out, soaking up the presence of Jesus in his words.

And then finally, Jesus speaks to Martha with rightful diagnosis.

You're anxious, you're doing too much, you need to lie down in some green pastures.

He's calling her into slow down.

Slow your heart down.

Slow down into the pace of grace.

God is lavish in his provision for our hearts' needs.

Yes, in a painful world at times, but he is lavish in his provision for our hearts through our pain.

We are, we could say it this way, already delivered, yet being delivered.

Already delivered, yet being delivered.

Here's what I mean by that.

On the cross, when Christ is on the cross, God fully forgives us, fully given his righteousness to us.

We'd say one-way love.

We do not deserve it, we do not earn it, and there is nothing required in response to it.

It is absolutely one way, nothing for you to add.

Forever secure.

Which is actually what the Holy Spirit uses to grow us.

Is the fact that it is one way and it is so sufficient, and we are so secured, so we are already delivered.

It is full and secure, and yet we are still broken and we live in a broken world, so we're still being delivered.

We're growing in the grace that's already been given to us.

We're delivered into our secure belovedness and still learning how profound it is for us.

We could say we're working the gospel deeper into our hearts.

So the life application here is we could say stuff like trust God, worry less.

That's good advice.

I mean, that's good.

You can write that down.

Worry less and trust God.

Live slower.

That's good.

Slow down.

I think in the realm of this application would be read your Bible and pray.

Classic good church advice.

Read your Bible and pray.

This, you won't fault a lot by reading your Bible and praying.

There's not a lot going to go wrong with this type of advice.

This is good.

We need to do this.

And yet, like just that on its own, hey, surrender more, fret less, love more, resent less.

This is all how we should be as Christians.

Yet it's not quite enough.

It leaves out the first phrase of this: He makes me.

Lie down in Green Pasture.

It's Him that's making me.

So it leaves out the empowerment part of the application.

See, application, or we could say law or standards on its own.

They may guide us, but eventually will burden us if they become the gaze of our heart.

Either you will achieve the law and become self-righteous and judgmental to those who are not doing it well enough.

You'll become exhausted on the way.

Or you'll just be burdened by the law.

You'll be buried.

You'll be buried by it.

And maybe that's been your Christian experience.

One of those two.

But a gospel-fueled Christian life is very different.

It's the fullness of this phrase.

He makes me lie down and green pasture.

He makes me.

So we are empowered by our secure belovedness into the implications of that grace.

This is the fruit of the gospel.

This is the fruit of the Holy Spirit.

So we end today thinking about those first three words.

Emphatic words.

He makes me.

This is where the gaze of our heart is.

Point number three.

Astonished by the shepherd's plentiful goodness and care, we are empowered to lie down.

And keep learning to lie down.

Amanda McMillan in the Mockingbird Daily Devotional Book, she wrote this.

And then, sweet rest.

It happens to you.

Certainly not because of you.

Your mind surrenders to the need of your body, and you finally fall asleep.

You wake up the next morning and you don't remember how or when it happened, but you thank God it did.

Repentance is similar.

Repentance has never been a word that I've liked.

It sounds very fire and brimstony.

But repentance is a sweet and restful thing.

It is a blessed giving up.

It is the moment when we realize that we cannot carry the load of the law, that our rule-keeping hands of control are not serving us, that the to-do list is crushing, and that we are desperately tired.

In repentance, we are simply made aware of the myriad ways that we need a Savior.

So what if we, me and you, what if we allowed our hearts by grace to perform and control less and rest more until lie down in a green passion?

What ways might your heart be freed?

Healed?

What ways might your heart grow in godliness?

By the power of the gospel, if you could say, the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, He makes me lie down in green pastures.

Let's pray together.

God, thank you for this great promise that so often feels so outside of us, but thank you that it is you that do the work inside of us.

Teach us more what it means to lie down, surrender, let go, stretch out, recline, fall deeper into the sufficiency of your grace for us for the validation of who we are as human beings, the justification of our souls before you, the fullness of the forgiveness that we need by Christ's cross as absolution, and the fullness of the righteousness you give to us by the imputation of Christ's righteousness onto us, fully secure, because you are sufficient for us.

May our hearts and our minds gaze even more upon you who empower us to lie down in your great and lavish provision.

In Jesus' name we pray.

Amen.