Of Sheep and Shepherds – week 1
Most of you have met Pastor Josh Woodrow. He’s one of the pastors at Good Shepherd in Hayward. He’s been here to preach before. Pastor Josh grew up at Prince of Peace in Fremont, and Pastor Zelt – who is still the lead pastor there – was Josh’s pastor throughout junior high, high school and into college. Pastor Zelt confirmed Josh, he married Josh and Jenny, and later baptized their first child. When Pastor Josh moved back to the East Bay to serve at Good Shepherd, we were together for his installation and he greeted Pastor Zelt as “Pastor Zelt,” to which Pastor Zelt responded, “You can call me Tom.” Later, Josh confided to me that he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t drop the title Pastor, even if it was now a title they shared in some way.
Some of you have had similar experiences, I would guess. Once you became an adult you were invited to address other adults more informally. Maybe it was comfortable for you. Maybe you found it difficult to drop the title “Mister” or “Misses.”
Titles are appropriate in many relationships. They signal respect. They carry some formality to them as well. Some titles infer professionalism. Titles also maintain distance. For example, it would seem cold and distant to address my dad as “Mr. Behrens.” He’s “dad” to me. When I first met my father-in-law he was Mr. Holobaugh, but as our relationship deepened I began calling him Billy. The change does not imply any disrespect, rather, it reveals a closeness in friendship which has developed.
The twenty third Psalm begins with the closeness of a relationship operating on a first name basis. Our English translations read “The Lord is my shepherd,” and they choose the title Lord as a sign of respect and honor. However, the Hebrew text does not use a title, but God’s proper name as revealed throughout the Old Testament. “Yahweh is my shepherd.” Yahweh doesn’t need translation because it’s not a title. Yahweh is a name. Yahweh is your shepherd’s name. Psalm 23, like each psalm preserved in scripture, is your prayer; your prayer to your shepherd, Yahweh.
[Yahweh] 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 paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake. (Psalm 23:1-3)
These are statements of faith. These are claims of confidence. These statements are assertions of who God is, and what he does, and what that means for you. When you pray these words, you begin with God’s name. He’s not a distant deified being too holy for your approach. You know him personally, so you can call him by name: Yahweh.
Who is this God you can call by name? He is your shepherd, therefore you need not want. Like a shepherd, he provides. Like a shepherd, he meets your needs. He brings you to pastures and water; food and drink; peace and safety.
His provision goes beyond the physical. Yahweh restores your soul. Yahweh rebuilds you on the inside. Your prayer implies – even admits – that something is broken. Something inside you is damaged. There’s a need for restoration. There’s a need for rebuilding. Yahweh may be likened to a shepherd, but as you pray, you call on him to do more than mere shepherding. Yahweh will lead you in the paths he knows. Yahweh will do all this for his name’s sake.
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. (Psalm 23:4)
This is when it means so much to have relationship on a first name basis. This is when you need a God who removes the distance of formal titles.
The words “even though” admit the evil. There is no denial of the darkness, the grief, the pain. This is no sugar-coating of a difficult situation. Yet, before the threat is even mentioned the monster has had fangs and claws removed; “Even though”
This is your prayer. This is the prayer which emanates from the confidence and faith identified in those opening verses. This is the prayer of one who can speak to God as a friend, without losing sight of the fact that this friend is the almighty and all-powerful God.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”
Even though I walk in the realm of cancer…
Even though I walk through the storms of anger and abuse…
Even though I walk in the presence of addictions…
Even though I walk surrounded by depression…
Even though I walk overshadowed by doubts and shame…
Even though I walk with anxious steps filled with panic, and terror…
Even though… I will fear no evil.
That’s your prayer. “I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” Your prayer shifts from statements of faith about this God you can call by a personal name. It’s now addressed directly to your friend. “You are with me.” You began your prayer acknowledging a closeness to God, to Yahweh. As you recognize the nearness of death in all its forms, you instinctively draw even closer to the One who protects and provides. The shift from speaking about Yahweh, to speaking, “You are with me,” is a way of drawing near. Your faith is creedal, but it is also personal. You know what God has done for you. You also know that God is for you.
David could write this intimate prayer and address God by the name revealed to his people, Yahweh. You can pray these words drawing confidence and comfort from the same God who revealed himself in Jesus. That’s the personal name more familiar to you. In Jesus you know God who came into this world for you. In Jesus you know God who faced death for you. He’s been through the valley. He knows the shadows cast in that valley. There is a final death, and there are a thousand smaller deaths which threaten and attack throughout the valley you traverse. Jesus faced these for you, and as you walk through the valley you fear no evil because he is with you. He is the One who has defeated death. He died and rose again. That’s why you can walk through this valley and pray, “I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”
What lies beyond the valley? Good gifts from your shepherd; good gifts from your friend.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows. (Psalm 23:5)
Your prayer remains framed in words intimately close to your shepherd. The threat of the valley is left behind. This is a new setting. There are good things for you. Your prayer is looking ahead to the promises in which you trust. “You prepare a table before me…” What is this table? It’s laden with the promises you hold dear: You are forgiven. You are included. You are empowered. You are made strong. You are family. You have purpose. You are loved.
All of these promises are prepared for you. Your shepherd has prepared a table. Your prayer looks ahead to the fulfillment of promise, but your prayer also recognizes how this is true now. Your shepherd, Jesus, has prepared a table for you. He’s given his body and blood. As you receive these, you receive all of God’s promises. You are forgiven. You are included. You are empowered. You are made strong. You are family. You have purpose. You are loved.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of [Yahweh]
forever. (Psalm 23:6)
This is now. This is today. This is your future as well. This is every tomorrow. Your prayer encompasses both the immediate and the eternal.
At the end, the language of your prayer has moved from speaking directly to your shepherd to once again speaking about him. It is still prayer. The closeness of the familiar name Yahweh is still present. This is communion with your God, your shepherd. It’s also more.
As you conclude your prayer, you speak to the world around you. You turn to others walking through their own valleys and you become a witness. You finish your prayer speaking to God and to others, standing firm in the faith from which your prayer began. Resting secure in the relationship from which your prayer has grown. You dwell in the house of your friend, your God, now and forever. Amen.
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