Meditation on Psalm 23

"From three very comfortable premises, David [Psalm 23] draws three very comfortable conclusions, and teaches us to do so too. We are saved by hope, and therefore that hope will not make us ashamed, because it is well grounded. It is the duty of Christians to encourage themselves in the Lord their God; and we are here directed to take that encouragement, both from the relation wherein He stands to us, and from the experience we have had of His goodness according to that relation.

"First, from God's being his Shepherd, he infers that he shall not want any thing that is good for him, v. 1. See here,

"1. The great care that God takes of believers. He is their Shepherd, and they may call Him so. Time was when David was himself a shepherd, he was taken from following the ewes great with young, Ps. 78:70; and so he knew by experience the cares and tender affections of a good shepherd towards his flock; he remembered what need they had of a shepherd, and what a kindness it was to them to have one that was skillful and faithful: he once ventured his life to rescue a lamb. By this, therefore, he illustrates God's care of his people; and to this our Savior seems to refer when he saith, `I am the Shepherd of the sheep; the good Shepherd,' John 10:11." Matthew Henry's Commentary

How this passage struck me this morning! The children and I had gone to Nonnie's upon rising so that Cal could catch up on much-needed sleep. She welcomed us and fed us breakfast. With Kilby sleeping on the living room floor, and the children happily watching yesterday's episode of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, I sat down in the rocking chair and looked for something to read. The John Wesley Reader wasn't right. All the titles were just more things about the Christian life. So I took a volume of Matthew Henry. Not remembering what it was that we've read recently for which I'd wanted to read M.H., I turned to Psalm 16. No. Then, Psalm 23. And all I had time for before returning to the demands of motherhood was what I've quoted above.

What levels of meaning, what allegory, what puns (yes!) the Lord gives us! Even now I stumble to try to sort out all that He has given me today.

I am a ewe with suckling lambs. "He also chose David his servant, And took him from the sheepfolds; From the care of ewes with suckling lambs He brought him, To shepherd Jacob His people, And Israel His inheritance." (Psalm 78:70, 71) The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want.

What do I want? Of what do I have need? Only this: that I may know God. That I may dwell in His presence. "One thing I have asked from the Lord, that I shall seek: That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, To behold the beauty of the Lord, And to meditate in His temple." (Psalm 27:4)

How greatly I long for the time to dwell in His Presence. To dwell? Or to sit, like Mary, at His feet. Aren't I dwelling in His Ever Presence always? I remember long walks, watching sunrises, writing in my journal, reading classics of the Christian faith, watching sunsets, meditating and praying. These things brought joy, deep and abiding joy. Sometimes quietly. Sometimes riotously. And peace, and contentment, and a knowledge that I was dwelling in His Presence. (Psalm 42:1-5)

But now I am racing from diapers to poopy pants to dishes to meals to laundry to quarreling children to bumps and bruises to nursing to diapers. And back again. And again. And I know that my Shepherd appreciates this. And I think He doesn't even condemn me for not rising early each day to seek Him. He gave me these little lambs who need so very much. But still I want to sit at His feet like Mary, and not rush about like Martha. "The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want."

I shall not want. Cal tells me that he thinks the sense of this is that I shall, one day, have no more wants because He is my Shepherd. But today I might be hungry for Him. But He sees my needs, and cares for me like a shepherd who, with knowledge, cares for a stupid sheep.

And then the Lord shows me Kilby, smiling trustingly up at my tear-streaked face, unaware of my thoughts. Kilby darling, you trust me for all that you need. And you don't even know that you need it. You hunger for milk, but you don't know that it comes from my breast, or that it could come from a bottle. You don't know what it is, and you certainly don't know the word for it. You probably aren't even aware that there are things called words yet. (Though you are beginning to recognize that some of them mean things special to you.) And then I understand that this is the childlikeness that Christ tells us we must have (Matthew 18:3). Cal pointed out to me that perhaps I was striving to enter the Lord's Presence through old gates. I remember the joy and peace that former meditations brought, and perhaps I seek even these. (God forbid!) But here I can no longer enter, not with all the demands of my suckling lambs. Not now. But He is my Shepherd and knows how to care for me. And I remember that He is Present. I am in His Presence. Even when I am wiping up spills and runny noses. He bids me do His will and He sees that I have what I need. Perhaps He has taken from me the solitude of my childless days that I may more fully trust Him for all that I need in the way of spiritual food. I am unable to glean it for myself. In fact, like Kilby, I don't even know what to call what I need. I only know my need and His promise to meet it.

Thank you, Lord.

Tonight Cal read Matthew 11:1-19 for family devotions, and followed with a question for the children: "Why was Jesus angry with the people?" He was angry with them because they wanted things done their way. Lord, forgive me for wanting to receive Your Presence my own way. Thank You for this life of distraction and tears and scraped elbows and dirty clothes and giggles and spankings that you have given me. Help me to receive You each day in the way that You deem best. And thank You for teaching me this today, that I may dwell in Your presence a more contented child. I love You for nourishing me, I love You for your skill and faithfulness. I understand, just a little better tonight, that You do lead me gently, that You are gentle and loving.