THE STRAIGHTFORWARD PULPIT

Text:  Psalm 23

Theme:  “A Closer Look at The 23rd Psalm”

4th Sunday of Easter

April 29, 2012

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

+In the Name of Jesus+

A psalm of David.

¹ The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
² He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
³ he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
⁴ Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,^[a]
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

⁵ You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
⁶ 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.

There you have it:  Psalm 23!  It ranks as one of the most well-known and dearly loved selections from the Holy Bible.  It is in the public domain.  God holds the copyright, but there is no charge for its use.  And this, if nothing else, reinforces the fact that it is a gift!  Since it is a gift, the first thought -- as we take a closer look at it -- would be to thank God for inspiring David to write it. 

Even crass secularists conclude that it's an amazing snippet of writing.  Some Bible commentaries think it is too hot to handle (like some sort of literary nitro-glycerin), so they gloss over it.  Others treat it like a cadaver; they seek to analyze it and dissect it and break it down into its component parts.  Whatever the case, it has been called "The Shepherd's Psalm". 

If anyone knew what it meant to be a shepherd, it was David.  He was the little shepherd-boy, the youngest of his siblings and the least likely candidate, who was plucked from the fields and his fathers' sheep to be the King of Israel.  This is the David, fearless in the extreme, who stuck a smooth stone in his slingshot and brought down that Philistine giant Goliath.   Even he, the apple of God's eye, needed a shepherd.  He acknowledged -- right off the bat in the first verse -- that he, like all of us, required the sustenance and guidance that only a good shepherd could provide.  Without such good gifts, the sheep are left on their own -- and, thus,  to their own devices.  They run off willy-nilly; they get lost, and, as any newspaper report would make plain, they face a nasty world.  There are lots of wolves out there, and some of them are in sheep's clothing. 

David puts to use the personal name of God.  In Hebrew, it is Yahweh.  In English, it is Lord.  "The Lord is my shepherd."  It's not, "The Lord was my shepherd, and now I'm running things on my own."  Neither is it this:  "The Lord will be my shepherd, once I decide to become one of His sheep."  The past and the future are of no regard here, for it's all about what is happening now:  "The Lord IS my shepherd." 

Applying Psalm 23 to ourselves, therefore, would make us sheep.  My first recollection of sheep takes me back, in my memory, to Uncle Ewald's farm in Arlington, Nebraska.  He had sheep that would at times go out in the pasture, and then they would return to the barnyard.  I recall that they were noisy little critters who left messes all over the place  that you had to be careful not to step into.  At first thought, the idea of being a metaphorical sheep is crude and revolting.  But then I recall that I, too, am a noisy little critter who has left more messes in the world that I can count.  Perhaps if I can get beyond my enlightened pride, I'll welcome the characterization of being a sheep.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing," says David.  The old King James version has it:  "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want."  That's a rather gregarious thing to say:  "I lack nothing" and "I shall not want."  Most folks, nowadays, constantly think about what they lack and what they want.  They think of what they lack in economic terms:  money and security.  They think of what they  lack physically:  health and vitality.  They think of what they lack spiritually:  they wonder just where in the heck God is (if he/she/it is even there at all). God is only good insofar as God fills in for what we lack as we have determined it.  Better yet, three cheers for God if He gives us what we want.    Thus, in place of David's gregarious claim ("I lack nothing"), they put in its place a sense of entitlement:  "The Lord is my shepherd; I am entitled to everything."  The human spirit does tend to be extremist -- and sometimes even in the extreme.  David, with the Lord being His shepherd, was content. There is a secret to being content, but that's a topic for another sermon.

Next up is verse two:  "He (the good shepherd) makes me lie down in green pastures."  But what if we don't want to lie down in green pastures?  There may be fire ants.   It sure sounds like the Lord is a control freak:  "He MAKES me lie down in green pastures."  Well, think of the opposite of this:  "He suggests that I stand up in a desolate wilderness" -- all alone with no food, no sustenance, no nourishment, no rest.  Given all that our lives are (and what we've made them out to be), "green pastures" sounds like a wonderful alternative.  I'm all in for the "green pastures"!

"He leads me beside quiet waters," says David.  Think, again, of the opposite of that -- which, in this case, would be a tsunami.  A tsunami suggests wide-spread, destructive waters.  "Still waters" evokes peace and serenity and the healthy quenching of thirst. 

Then comes this:  "He (the Lord) restores my soul."  God doesn't affirm it.  He doesn't improve it.  He doesn't fine tune it.  He doesn't bandage it.   He restores it.  C.S. Lewis once described the human soul as a house with a leaky pipe.  God is called upon as the plumber to come and fix the leak.  But the owner of the house soon discovers that God is not only repairing the pipe.  God -- to the shock, dismay, and eventual joy of the owner -- is restoring the entire house.  He intends to come and live there Himself.

"He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake," the psalm goes on.    There is a whiff of covenant thinking here -- which true blue Presbyterians, of course, will love.   Even though the sheep -- God's people -- carried on as if God was not their shepherd; even though they traveled paths that could not, in any way, be called righteous; even though they did not keep up their end of the agreement, God would not renege on His part of the bargain.  God is true to His name.  Therefore, God the good shepherd leads his sheep in paths of righteousness.  Your being here today is a prime example of that.

Now, sit back, straighten up your spine, and hold on for this one:  "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."

The brutal honesty of this statement is what strikes me the most.  David is not in denial.  He doesn't gloss over the realities of death, the shadow of death, and of evil in this world.  Without the Lord as our shepherd, it makes perfect sense to slap a coat of metaphorical paint on the surface of death and evil.  It makes it look so much better when we rationalize these things away.  The alternative to denial is having, as David said, the Lord's "rod" and "staff" and comfort. 

Verse 5:  "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies."  The thought here is that the enemies of God's people, our enemies, in whatever form they take, will one day watch as we get to go to the party, to the feast, to the table.  That's what's so precious about the Lord's Supper; it gives us a little sample -- a foretaste, if you will -- of that great celebration that will one day be ours.

"You anoint my head with oil," says David.  To "anoint" is to consecrate or to set apart for God's purposes.  For we Christians, there are hints of Baptism in this.  We don't do shotgun baptisms with a hose in an attempt to get the entire crowd wet.  Instead, it is done one at a time.  God loves the whole world, to be sure.  But in your anointing, in your Baptism, His claim is not upon the world but upon you.  God loves you because you are you. 

And your "cup overflows"!  In the garden of Gethsemane on the night before He died, Jesus prayed that the cup be taken from him.  It was the cup of God's wrath and righteous anger over human sin.  It was that "cup", that "cup of foaming wine well-mixed" (as the prophet said) that, in Jesus passion and death, He drank down to the dregs in your place.  He drank the kool-aid that kills so that your cup might overflow with blessing. 

"Indeed, good loving-kindness (that's the exact translation) shall chase after me all my days”(again, that's the exact translation).    That's what you're worth to God -- worth chasing after.  God, forgive us for all the times we play hide and seek with your good loving-kindness.  Let us be caught by it!

Finally this:  "I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever," says King David.  These are the words of man who knew, ultimately, that he was going home.  It's all because he had a good shepherd.  In Jesus Christ, that Son of David who was crucified and rose the grave, we do too.  And home is where we're headed.  Let us pray:

O Lord, support us all the day long of this troubled life,

Until the shadows lengthen

And the evening comes

And the busy world is hushed,

The fever of life is over,

And our work is done.

Then, Lord, in Your mercy, grant us a safe lodging

And a holy rest

And peace at the last;

Through Jesus Christ, our Good Shepherd and our Lord.

Amen.