“He leads me beside still waters.” Psalm 23:2
That’s what I need today.
Still waters.
Do you feel like you’re drowning in a sea of information?
Not today.
Do you sense a current of fear trying to pull you under?
Not today.
Are overwhelming thoughts raining down on you?
Not today.
Today, I will let Him lead me beside still waters.
No scrolling.
No surfing.
No viewing.
Just this.
Be still and know that He is God.
Be still and listen for His voice.
“He makes me lie down in green pastures.” Psalm 23:2
Have you ever tried to make a two year old lie down?
My most recent experience has gone something like this:
It’s nap time, Abel.
He runs away and hides under the piano bench.
You can pick out one toy to take with you.
He crawls out and picks up 3 cars, 5 army guys and a stuffed bear.
I concede.
Daisy Duck, Nonnie?
Oh, yes, let’s read your favorite book before lying down.
He jumps up and down on the couch while I read.
Time for a nap now, Abel.
We go into the bedroom and I tuck him in.
I’m thirsty, Nonnie.
I go get his water bottle. But he wants a Dixie cup from the bathroom, so I put one centimeter of water in a cup and bring it to him.
He arranges his cars and army guys.
I tuck him back in.
I’m hot, Nonnie.
I help him take off his socks. And his pants. And his shirt.
Sing, Nonnie.
I start singing a lullabye.
No, Nonnie. Frosty.
I sing Frosty the Snowman, making up lyrics.
He re-arranges his cars and army guys.
I say, “Let’s close our eyes now and snuggle.”
He cuddles up close, but three army guys fall off the bed.
I convince him that army guys always take naps under the bed.
Ice-cream, Nonnie?
Yes, we’ll have ice-cream after you take a nap.
He wiggles around until the covers come off.
I pretend I’m sleeping.
He puts his little hands on my cheeks and stretches them this way and that.
I keep pretending to be asleep.
He gently takes my eyelashes and lifts my eyelids open.
It’s really hard, but I keep pretending.
He whispers to his cars and drops the other two army guys under the bed.
I am almost asleep.
His two little lips brush across my cheek.
I smile.
He rolls over and falls asleep.
He makes me lie down.
I fidget and wiggle and resist.
I think about my needs.
I hold on to distractions.
I desire to be entertained.
I want to know what’s going to happen.
I poke at those nearest to me.
Sometimes, He has to make me lie down.
And like a good Father,
He draws near.
He comforts the hurting.
He gives strength to the weary.
He sings over the anxious.
He gives courage to the fearful.
He lays down His life for us.
My soul finds rest in God alone.
Psalm 62:1
I shall not want. Psalm 23:1
When I read this psalm, I always picture a Sunday school version of David, the shepherd boy, sitting on a peaceful hillside on a summer night. He is strumming his lyre as happy lambs are softly baa-ing under the starry sky. I imagine him watching over his contented flock in a lush, green pasture, the sound of a nearby stream gurgling. He reaches for a papyrus scroll from his backpack and begins to write,
“The Lord is my shepherd. I have everything I need.”
Except that’s all wrong.
When King David wrote this famous psalm, he was probably on the run from his own son, who was trying to depose him and take over the kingdom. David and his entourage had left Jerusalem, weeping openly, in order to avoid conflict with his boy. Things were falling apart in his nation.
For the first time in years, the King found himself away from the palace and sleeping under the stars, reminding him of his sheep-herding days.
Then it hit him.
“The Lord is the one who is shepherding me.” (ISV)
“I do not lack.” (YLT)
David was away from his office, unable to carry on his normal duties, and isolating in the desert. His future was uncertain, he was emotionally spent and physically exhausted. He wasn’t sitting on a peaceful hillside, he wasn’t strumming his lyre, all wasn’t right with the world. Yet, David did reach for a scroll and he did begin to write,
“Yahweh is my shepherd; I will not lack for anything.” (LEB)
That’s what faith sounds like.
The first duty of a sheep is confidence in the Shepherd. — Spurgeon ❤️
The Lord is my Shepherd. Psalm 23:1
What happens to a flock of sheep that has no shepherd?
They panic.
They go helter-skelter all over the pasture.
They cry.
They stay awake all night, bleating and pacing.
They get lost.
They fear being attacked by predators.
Sometimes, they start picking on each other.
What happens to a flock that has a Good Shepherd?
They trust.
They stay close to His side.
They sing.
They lie down and sleep in peace.
They abide.
They take refuge in the shelter of His arms.
They take care of each other.
Let’s be a flock that acts like it has a Shepherd.
Because we do.
He is the Lord.
He is the Shepherd and Overseer of our souls. 1 Peter 2:25
How is everybody doing?
I know, me too.
I’m just a little unnerved by news reports,
but watching for a move of God in our midst.
As we all do our part and practice social isolation for fifteen days (at least), I hope we each can redeem the time by using it wisely. I hope books are read, books are written, music is listened to, music is composed, bread is kneaded and baked, garages are cleaned, letters are written. I hope families pray together, play games together, are patient with each other. I hope the still, small voice of the Lord gets our attention. I hope we find strength and comfort in His Word.
But I trust in you, O Lord;
I say, “You are my God.”
My times are in your hands.
Psalm 31:14-15
I listened to a reading of Psalm 23 this morning, and it felt like a moment of calm in the chaos, a balm for my jitters, a restful reminder of who I am and Who is leading me.
We are the flock.
We have a Shepherd.
Over the next several days, I invite you to meditate with me on this psalm of David. Let’s let our minds soak in the beauty and comfort of these life-giving, faith-building words.
“…you have no room for my word.” John 8:37
Apparently the innkeeper in Bethlehem
wasn’t the only one
who had no room for Jesus.
Thirty years later, in the middle of a heated discussion with the Pharisees, Jesus accused the religious leaders of being so full of themselves that they had no room for His words.
This was nothing new.
Hundreds of years before Jesus arrived on the scene, the Psalmist observed the same problem. “Wicked people are too proud. They do not look for God; there is no room for God in their thoughts.” Psalm 10:4
The Pharisees had jam-packed their minds so full of
religious rules,
laborious laws
and
tedious traditions,
they couldn’t take in the height and depth of Jesus’ words about
truth,
freedom
and
salvation.
Instead, they called Him a raging demoniac and plotted His death.
Lent is a good time to make some room for Jesus’ words.
Shove aside the empty entertainment,
fast from speed and greed,
forgive a minor offense.
Make some room.
This week’s reading: John 8:1-41 (deeper study on 8:31-41)
Next week’s reading: John 8:42-59 (deeper study on 8:48-59)
“No one ever spoke the way this man does.” John 7:46
These words did not come from the lips of
Jesus’ enthusiastic disciples
or
His admiring followers
or
impressed church leaders.
These words were uttered by the temple police, who had been sent out by the Pharisees to shut Jesus up and bring Him in so the priests could give Him stern warnings against riling up the crowd of know-nothings and inciting a Messiah-fever among the rabble.
These armed guards had authority directly from the high priest to maintain law and order on the temple grounds. They were responsible to quash any renegade preaching with force. As they patrolled the holy house of prayer, they reminded all the worshipers to behave in church.
While on the beat, they stopped to listen to Jesus.
They couldn’t tear themselves away.
They heard words of life.
They couldn’t arrest Him.
The guards had to explain to their supervisors why they failed in their mission.
They could have said,
“He slipped away into the crowd,”
or
“We couldn’t identify the culprit,”
or
“We’ll get him next time.”
Instead of cracking down on the rouge teacher, they were enthralled by His words. Jesus wasn’t a threat in their eyes. In fact, they liked what He was saying. We don’t know what it cost those temple policemen to come back to the office empty-handed, but we do know they got a dressing down from the Pharisees.
“Are you carried away like the rest of the rabble?
You don’t see any of us leaders believing in him, do you?”
No. No, they didn’t.
The words of Jesus deserve our utmost attention.
It’s vital to spend time reading and studying what He had to say.
There are many, many gifted writers and engaging teachers out there,
but no one speaks like this man.
“Whosoever comes to me, I will never drive away.” John 6:37
I’m getting a little help today from my man, Charles H. Spurgeon, a preacher from the 1800’s. He’s my favorite old dead guy; in fact, I call Charles my 19th century boyfriend. PB doesn’t mind because Spurg has been dead for 128 years now. But if we had been alive at the same time, my man PB would have had a run for his money with CHS.
By the time of his death in 1892, Spurgeon had preached 3,600 sermons and published 49 volumes of commentaries, sayings, anecdotes, illustrations and devotions.
All without the internet.
Spurgeon on “coming”:
Faith in Christ is simply and truly described as coming to him. It is not an acrobatic feat…it is not an exercise of profound mental faculties…coming is a very simple action indeed; it seems to have only two things about it — one is to come away from something, and the other is to come to something.
One might say, “I don’t understand all the Christian doctrine and theology”. Come anyway, because it doesn’t say whoever understands, let him come.
One might say, “I can’t repent the way I should. My heart is hard and I can’t even weep over my sins or feel bad over them as I should.” Come anyway, because it doesn’t say whoever feels, let him come.
One might say, “I don’t know if I can live the Christian life the way that I should.” Come anyway, because it doesn’t say whoever can, let him come.”
One might say, “I don’t know if I am worthy to live the Christian life.” Come anyway, because it doesn’t say whoever is worthy, let him come.
Spurgeon on “whosoever”:
But mark thee, sinner, it says “whosoever”. What a big word that is! Whosoever! There is no standard height here. It is of any height and any size. Little sinners, big sinners, black sinners, fair sinners, sinners double-dyed, old sinners, aggravated sinners, sinners who have committed every crime in the whole catalogue — whosoever.
See what I mean?
Spurgeon is really something,
but he’s still my second favorite preacher.
PB is my #1 and always will be.
I’ve done my share of telling people to pick up.
Pick up your shoes.
Pick up your room.
Pick up your sweaty, smelly jersey.
Pick up your cereal bowl with the milk that has curdled
and stinks to high heaven.
During all those years of raising four kids, I didn’t realize how spiritual I was sounding. (Neither did the kids, I’m sure.)
This week my reading was on the miraculous picnic in the pasture.
One little boy + 2 small fish + 5 barley buns + 5,000 men =
Scarcity.
But,
one little boy + 2 small fish + 5 barley buns + 5,000 men + Jesus =
Abundance.
When they had all had enough to eat, he said to his disciples,
“Gather the pieces that are left over.
Let nothing be wasted.”
John 6:12
This is what it looks like to be a disciple of Jesus.
There’s lots of picking up involved.
Picking up the toys in the church nursery.
Picking up the marshmallow sticks the youth group left in the fit pit.
Picking up the coffee cups and bulletins in the pews on Monday mornings.
Picking up the elderly neighbor and giving him a ride to church.
Picking up the soup for the Lent soup suppers.
Picking up the child who fell and scraped her knee.
Picking up the burdens of a friend who is grieving a loss.
Picking up the pen to write a check to someone in need.
Picking up the garbage on the side of the road.
Picking up the phone to speak words of encouragement.
Picking up the Word to keep the soul restored.
None of it is a waste.
All of it is abundance in the hand of the Master.
So they gathered them and filled twelve baskets
with the pieces of the five barley loaves left over by those who had eaten.
John 6:13
This week’s reading: John 6 (deeper study on 6:35-44)
Next week’s reading: John 7 (deeper study on 7:37-46)
It’s February in Wisconsin.
I’m not gonna lie — sitting poolside somewhere warm and balmy
sounds pretty darn good right now.
However, sitting by a pool for thirty-eight years, hoping for a miracle
probably was pretty darn depressing.
“Do you want to get well?” John 5:6
Jesus directed this question to a man
who had been an invalid for 38 years.
That would be like talking to someone today
who has been in a wheelchair since 1982.
Remember 1982? That was back when Michael Jackson released “Thriller” and thrilled us with the moonwalk. We listened to MJ on newfangled little records called CDs. Ronald Reagan was President and we all went to the movie theaters to see “E.T.” phone home. That was a long time ago.
In 1982, I watched the Brewers play in the World Series while waiting for my first child to arrive. In 38 years, PB and I have had four babies which led to four weddings, and eleven grand babies — a whole new generation. Thirty-eight years is a long time.
Maybe the crippled man didn’t hear the question. It was a “Yes/No” question but he didn’t give Jesus a straight answer. Instead, he wanted to talk about his past 38 miserable years. He had good excuses — no one would help him get into the healing waters, all the other cripples were faster than he was, it was hard lying by the pool every day.
But Jesus didn’t want to hear it.
He told the man to get up, clean up, and go home.
“Get up! Pick up your mat and walk!” John 5:8
Sometimes Jesus heals people, whether they want it or not.
This week’s reading: John 5 (deeper study on 5:5-15)
Next week’s reading: John 6 (deeper study on 6:5-15)
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