Psalm 23: When the Lord becomes your Shepherd

Psalm 23 has been a personal favourite for many, for centuries. Often it is the only Psalm still sung in some churches. The powerful Scottish-isle-like imagery takes our imaginations through surreal pastures sprinkled with snowy sheep bleating baahs and savouring refreshing waters by the streams. I confess that such a picture is too pristine and fantastical for my Indian sensibilities. Perhaps it has to be do with my daily encounter with pits and potholes as I drive through the ruggedy Bangalore roads. Perhaps it has to do with the abysmal lack of such patches in our crowded city. Hence reading Psalm 23 soaks up the mind with such earthly bliss that I barely meander the valley of shadow of death before I get to the part about us dwelling in ethereal bliss. I fondly remember hushing my son to sleep each night using this beloved Psalm when he first came home to us. It is a pleasant Psalm of rest, and so it should be.

Psalm 23, however, is not primarily interested in talking about our spiritual road trip. Its aim is underscored in the first verse, which sets the expectation for the rest of the Psalm in motion: The LORD is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want. When the LORD – the God of all created things and the Redeemer of God’s elect – this Christ becomes our Shepherd, it doesn’t matter where we meander. As His sheep, we have signed on the dotted line to follow Him, no matter where the road leads. It is the good LORD we have pledged to follow, not the good road. When young and new to the faith, we find ourselves reposing at the Palace Beautiful in Pilgrim’s Progress, lingering a day more, and casting our comforts on yonder Delectable Mountains. Indeed, there is nothing more comforting, nothing more satisfying than having that mountain-top experience with my Shepherd, we muse. He will lead me on green pastures, He will lead me beside clear waters, we imagine. Life with Jesus is pure bliss, we reckon. Yet the Shepherd makes no such promises. If anything, He promises suffering as the sure calling for the Christian (Phil 1:29, 1 Pet 2:21). The story goes that as Christian makes his journey towards these mountains, he is brutalized first by Apollyon that great Enemy, loses friends, is trapped in Vanity Fair, sees his friend burnt at the stake, slides through the easy by-path meadows and falls deep into the castle of Doubt and is beaten black and blue by Giant Despair. By now all hope of savoring the mountains or reaching Immanuel’s land is gone. Surprisingly then, mature Christian finds himself atop these very mountains, leaning wearily on his staff of faith, yet refreshed by the fountains, the orchards and the pastures of the great Shepherd.

Mature Christians know that what gives them the resolve on this pilgrim journey is not the pit-stops along the way nor the promise of ease or health; not the vanishing of problems or people, nor their prophetical predictability to see through the future and control it. We are not masters of our journey and the Psalmist doesn’t tell us what will come first: the pasture or the valley of death. Mature Christians follow their Shepherd wherever the staff leads them. They trust their Lord’s direction. They interpret circumstances in the light of their Shepherd and not their Shepherd in the light of their journey. Their hand is steadily on the plough, “Give what thy will”, they say. And such Christians will find themselves, more often that not, on the rugged valley of suffering.

Several years ago, I was running away from a threat to my life from a person I trusted. At 4 am in the wee hours of the morning, I found myself escaping on a dark road, with nothing but the low hum of the engine and the dim headlights lighting my way. I was all alone in a no-man’s land, my car being the only wisp of life on a long stretch of black nothingness. It was a strange irony of my own life, as I found myself wondering at that very moment, “Is this what is means to be a Christian? Is this why I followed you Lord? Are you really who you say you are?” I was ready to give up. Make a u-turn back to my old life. Escape. Then the Lord in no unclear terms whispered into my silence, “I am your Good Shepherd”. Had those words been uttered by anyone but my Lord, I would have fled the scene. I hung on those words as dear life, and they brought the comfort I needed. I couldn’t understand it then, “Why would a Good Shepherd lead me into dangerous nooks?”, yet I dared not to question my Lord. Years later, I understood. I don’t question my Christian journey, but learn from the encounters my Lord puts me through. What matters ultimately is not where I have been, but whom I have been with. I have put my hand into His. My Shepherd is good, even when the road is rough.

He will tend his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms;
he will carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead those that are with young.

~ Isaiah 40:11