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. Psalm 23 is, however, not primarily interested in talking about our spiritual road trip. It’s aim is underscored in the first verse, which sets the expectation for the rest of the Psalm in motion:

Mirror, Oh Mirror.

People around us see us with better clarity than we see ourselves. When I Instagram the prettiest version of myself and my accolades my neighbour is quick to see the wrinkles beneath the paint. We tend to see our performances through rose colored glasses, while our bosses see the grave error of our works. We think they are critical, but the truth is, we are wishful. We even think we aren’t as stupid or bad as “that person”, always finding a way to make the mirror within tell us we are the fairest of them all.

The Gospel is not paralysed.

Adoption is risky. As someone who evaded this possibility for several years, I know how it feels. After losing our two children in the womb, I became somewhat withdrawn from children in general. Sure, I taught middle school children Sabbath school. Sure, I baby-sat for several of my friends. But that was all on the Lord’s insistence to heal me. Not once was I able to attach myself to any of these children whom I taught of shared life with. That would mean tearing open my womb again. Seeing the blood spill. The grief would be too much to handle. Adoption was a scary thing for me.