Changed in the Waiting
You Are with Me
December 10, 2024
SCRIPTURE
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.
—PSALM 23 (NRSVUE)
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.
—PSALM 23 (NRSVUE)
Several years ago I read a quote from Carmelite nun and spiritual writer Ruth Burrows that dramatically altered the way I engage with God. She described God’s love as something that was always at work giving Godself to us. We didn’t have to work hard to entertain, pacify, or reach God to be loved. Instead, she said, if we truly understand who God is and what God is about, then our work is simply “to let ourselves be loved, let ourselves be given to, let ourselves be worked upon by this great God.” It sounds so beautiful. But practically speaking, how do we let ourselves be loved? How do we take on a posture of humble receptivity when we are so used to producing and performing?
The metaphor we are given of God as our shepherd is a helpful place to begin. Especially in our seasons of waiting when things are not moving as fast as we'd like, it is challenging to put ourselves in the position of the sheep instead of assuming the role of the shepherd. It requires submission, acknowledging that we need to be led and cared for. When Jesus called himself the Good Shepherd (John 10), he was calling on the imagery of Psalm 23 and inviting us to know his love in this very particular way.
When I enter Psalm 23 imagining Jesus as my shepherd, the first thing I'm confronted with is my difficulty to believe I have all I need. Usually I am surrounded by people and businesses reminding me of everything I don’t have. What would it be like to be with a person whose very presence assured me I have enough? When I trust this truth, there is a settled peace that feels really good.
I imagine myself having a great time meandering the Galilean hillsides with Jesus—until he tells me it’s time to take a nap. Then I feel my inner rebellious toddler rise up, indignant at the suggestion that he knows what I need better than I do. But when I finally give in and flop down, I realize he’s right. I’ve been so used to living life in the rapids that walking along the quiet streams takes some getting used to. But now that I’m here, my tiredness kicks in. I have to admit, I can do a great job keeping myself busy, productive, distracted, or entertained—but he is the only
one who knows how to restore my soul.
The tools of the trade—a shepherd’s rod and staff—don't sound all that comforting at first. But then I realize how he uses them, gently prodding and guiding me in the paths he knows are right. Even when I can’t see his face, I know he’s there. It is a huge relief to know I’m not alone, that I don’t have to figure out my own route. I wish he would lead us around the dark valleys of fear and death instead of through them, but he doesn't. What he does do is stay with me so I don’t go through them alone.
When we arrive at a place surrounded by those who want to do me harm, I look at Jesus in alarm: where have you brought me?! And I notice it’s here he’s decided to unpack the picnic basket. He prepares a feast for me, right in the midst of danger, and I am not harmed. His love and favor wash over me, and lam deeply aware that nothing could ever separate me from his love. These gifts of mercy and goodness will go with me everywhere, for the rest of my life, because my Good Shepherd is with me always.
1. Ruth Burrows, The Essence of Prayer (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2006), 176.
The metaphor we are given of God as our shepherd is a helpful place to begin. Especially in our seasons of waiting when things are not moving as fast as we'd like, it is challenging to put ourselves in the position of the sheep instead of assuming the role of the shepherd. It requires submission, acknowledging that we need to be led and cared for. When Jesus called himself the Good Shepherd (John 10), he was calling on the imagery of Psalm 23 and inviting us to know his love in this very particular way.
When I enter Psalm 23 imagining Jesus as my shepherd, the first thing I'm confronted with is my difficulty to believe I have all I need. Usually I am surrounded by people and businesses reminding me of everything I don’t have. What would it be like to be with a person whose very presence assured me I have enough? When I trust this truth, there is a settled peace that feels really good.
I imagine myself having a great time meandering the Galilean hillsides with Jesus—until he tells me it’s time to take a nap. Then I feel my inner rebellious toddler rise up, indignant at the suggestion that he knows what I need better than I do. But when I finally give in and flop down, I realize he’s right. I’ve been so used to living life in the rapids that walking along the quiet streams takes some getting used to. But now that I’m here, my tiredness kicks in. I have to admit, I can do a great job keeping myself busy, productive, distracted, or entertained—but he is the only
one who knows how to restore my soul.
The tools of the trade—a shepherd’s rod and staff—don't sound all that comforting at first. But then I realize how he uses them, gently prodding and guiding me in the paths he knows are right. Even when I can’t see his face, I know he’s there. It is a huge relief to know I’m not alone, that I don’t have to figure out my own route. I wish he would lead us around the dark valleys of fear and death instead of through them, but he doesn't. What he does do is stay with me so I don’t go through them alone.
When we arrive at a place surrounded by those who want to do me harm, I look at Jesus in alarm: where have you brought me?! And I notice it’s here he’s decided to unpack the picnic basket. He prepares a feast for me, right in the midst of danger, and I am not harmed. His love and favor wash over me, and lam deeply aware that nothing could ever separate me from his love. These gifts of mercy and goodness will go with me everywhere, for the rest of my life, because my Good Shepherd is with me always.
1. Ruth Burrows, The Essence of Prayer (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2006), 176.
QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION, DISCUSSION, AND PRAYER
How do you respond to the idea that our task is to let ourselves be loved? What habits help you take this posture or keep you from it?
What is it like to imagine Jesus as your Good Shepherd?
Where do you need the loving care of your Good Shepherd today?
How do you respond to the idea that our task is to let ourselves be loved? What habits help you take this posture or keep you from it?
What is it like to imagine Jesus as your Good Shepherd?
Where do you need the loving care of your Good Shepherd today?