As Promised - Part 2

Psalm 23 - reflections

Okay, so here's a little more.  (If you missed Part 1 - please scroll down one post)

He anoints my head with oil.  

May we begin with a confession of sorts? I am only a student of theology in the sense that the Lord has rescued me (literally), and I love to learn about Him and His ways, who he is - in all the ways he, with care and intention, reveals himself to us, primarily in the Bible and secondarily in the physical world and its beauty and order - not in an academic sense with earned degrees from formal study.  I am removed, too, thousands of years from the imagery of ancient Israel where oil and heads at one time meant something hugely significant, only today they seem odd.

But there's a thing here to be grasped.

A Shepherd's Look at Psalm 23 by Phillip Keller helps with this.  He explains how a Shepherd during fly season cares for the vulnerability of his sheep's heads by covering it with a special oil or grease.

Oil or grease, I'm sorry, they just sound really gross.  Like, I would get really upset if someone smeared or poured it over my head.  Seriously, gross.  But pause a moment (sil vous plait).  Just imagine the tender caring. The application of the Shepherd's hands carefully covering the ewes' and rams' and lambs' heads.  I am reminded of the significance of oil in biblical times, how it represented God's presence and his own anointing upon kings or priests.  You see, even the kings needed such anointing.  What were they but mere men otherwise?  Unable and unfit to serve the holiness of a holy God, or to lead his own people.

Yes, David, Israel's king and the one who inscribed these beautiful words of Psalm 23, understood the relationship between the Lord and the oil upon his own head.  Are not these words of tender caring and provision beautiful to us because they speak of something we need?  Yes.  We need greased heads, protection and anointing - His presence upon us where we are most vulnerable.

My cup runs over.  


What more can be said?

Except this:  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. 

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Goodness and Mercy are literal things, like sunshine falling unexpectedly across the living room floor.  Like the brush of a kiss on a sleeping face.  Like silk wrapped around a sorrowing wound.  Goodness and Mercy, waters from God, rush in us, through us, around us.  Gathering droplets, Mercy falls down like rain. It covers the morning earth, and we step onto the grass, leaving barefooted prints.  Fears, regrets and sorrows of sins grown old, wash from our skin. Their voices blend into a harmony, calling, softly, then loudly, like rolling foam beneath the falls, laughing, joyfully speaking, "Yes, my Dear, the water's clear and it's clean; take a plunge, and when you step away, let its Beauty flow from your soul."  (from Reflections of Mercy: Psalm 23 - posted June 5, 2012)

I want to back up a wee bit in this beautiful Psalm as we draw our visit here to a close.  It is to here that we go:

He restores my soul. 

 Amen. Not just any amen but the sort of amen that rolls deep like Bach's suite no. 1 for cello through a canyon at sunrise.  Yes, He restores my soul.  Amen.

And here:

He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake. 

Can we be okay with this?  I mean, really okay?

Paths.
of.
Righteousness.

Do we have any idea what this means?  I'm not sure that I do, not totally, but is it possible to assume that it's a place where our feet walk and our lungs breathe in right things?  Can we assume it's a really, really good place to be walking?

Have you ever gone walking on a path and experienced so much joy in the walking?  An eagle suddenly lifts from the tree tops overhead, wings spread as he glides across the lake.  An otter slides off the embankment and dips into the cool water as the sun slides behind shadowed mountains.   And you take a breath and notice the crisp air slip into your own lungs - and you realize you're on the perfect path.

But sometimes, well, often if you are me, the experience goes more akin to this:

"Uh oh, there goes little lamb off into the bush country again.  Aw, look at her go, how cute, oops, stuck in the briars."

Here comes the Shepherd.

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.

And this:

Be not like a horse or a mule, without understanding, which must be curbed with bit and bridle,
or it will not stay near you.   (Psalm 32)

And so the Shepherd lovingly calls her back - or rescues her if needed.   

You see, upon these paths of righteousness, no briars harm lamb-soul.  Not on such paths.  Not if she's fixing her attention on the Shepherd.  Yes, lamb-soul may run into troubles and walk through dark valleys, but never alone.  And the darkness cannot harm her, not really. Not when her response is to the Shepherd, not to the bewildering of her senses as she walks through darkness.  

Remember the table? Yes. Literal table, friend.  If you are like me (human), you often fail to realize that in the middle of dark valleys His presence remains constant.  It's dark.   You cannot see him.  But, if you pause and be still, can you hear him?  Have you known his presence?  Maybe through a friend.  Maybe through a nurse or a doctor.  Or a policeman.  Or a judge who works justice.  But, it's a ministry of the Shepherd on our behalf.  Or maybe all those human hands and feet of mercy have scattered, and so you are still walking a lonely path.  Then reach out for His hand.  In the dark.  I promise you, he's near.  Enough.  To touch.

Have you noticed?  It's okay, all it takes is a whispered prayer.  "Lord, help me."  It is his presence that he first brings to your situation.  Isn't that kind?  After all, it's the thing we most need.  We need Him.  More than we need something fixed or altered.  Yes, we need Him.  

One last thought.

For His name's sake.  

I'm not sure what the terrain under your foot is at present, how rocky or how unfamiliar.

But I'm hearing an echo in my own memory that reels back at the phrase: For His name's sake.  Maybe YOU are a saint and totally get that as a good thing, or maybe you feel something like this, a twang of embitterment.  Or maybe a pool of it is where you are swimming.  It sometimes will sound like this:  "But you don't know what it's like to be ripped apart from your family."  And, "You don't know what it's like to be betrayed."  Or, "I've suffered from disease for 10 years, and I'm done, can't handle more."  Or, something more grievous than words can express, "I've lost my son to a dumb war and politicians."

The Shepherd weeps for you, with you.  But here's the thing:  For his name's sake. 

"How egotistical of this Shepherd."  No friend.

We bear His name.

We do so if we are following Him and identifying with Him through faith in Christ Jesus.  So, yes, for His name's sake. It's for beauty's sake, it's how He loves.  And it's why he dare not let us alone in our sin or with our sorrow, and why we are led daily in paths of righteousness.

It's also why he prepares that table before us in the presence of our enemies.  And it's why we must pause in our journeys.  For his name's sake.  We are part of that name - as heirs adopted, because of Christ Jesus. 

Turn to the table with your sorrow.  And see the Shepherd spreading it.  It's for you, from His hands. And ask, see what He would have you do with the things you carry silently.  And partake of His care. It is a costly care pierced through and through with particular love.

We bear His name.

(Bowing. Amen.)

Thank you for joining me.

And for your enjoyment:  Bach Suite no. 1 in G for Cello

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=wk8QNzkzwYg

Of tables, enemies and oil - Part 1

Psalm 23 - more reflections 

"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.  You anoint my head with oil. My cup runs over."

Oh, can you see the lamb-soul who walks through the valley of the shadow of death, and fears no evil?  'Shepherd' guides this one through the valley of deep darkness.

Have you been there? Does your valley fall beneath shadows?  Or can you remember how bewildering to feel or perceive a devastating isolation?

"I will fear no evil, for You are with me."  Oh, literal presence.  Oh, Savior-Shepherd nearest to me. Amen.

Oh, but there is more, yes, keep reading.

You prepare a table before me.  In the presence of my enemies.  

Just imagine for a moment, friends, with me.  If you are the lamb-soul of the Lord's own keeping, and you are surrounded by opposition, where does the Shepherd wish to draw your attention?  Is it to the hoards of things mounting or pressing against you?  Is it to the opposition?  No.  None of these.

Pause for just a moment and let your eye find the Shepherd.  Do you see him?  Where is he and what is he doing - we've all wondered this at one time or another.  But the psalmist knew.  The Shepherd's at the table.  What is He doing?

Ah, yes, preparing.  A table.

Now, why is it here? Does he mean for you to draw near to it or does he mean merely to tease you?  If he's working on this 'table,' then it means you both have stopped for a time in your journey.  And, yes, there a crowd gathering nearby, and it's an unkind-unfriendly and threatening one.  Doesn't he notice? Doesn't he care? But still, you are stopped.  And he's preparing.

Now here's where knowing the Shepherd makes all the difference in the world.  I mean really knowing Him.  The sort of knowing that is rooted not just in declarative statements and facts, but the sort of knowing that remembers all the streams and still waters, all the rescuing he's done with his "rod and staff" that comfort.  It means relying on a very particular sort of Shepherd who cares for you in a very particular sort of way.  And you know it.  (Or maybe not.  Maybe you do not know the Shepherd. Yet.)

Just for a moment, let's think of the 'unfriendlies' who are lurking, watching.  Of Enemies -  two things here: One, our enemy is identified in Ephesians and Corinthians, and it is not as we may assume.  It is not "flesh and blood" but "principalities and powers in high places"; and, Two, and this is so very cool, the fact of the TABLE spread before you in the presence of pending harm assumes the Shepherd is guarding, watching over you in such a way that offers protection.  And you know this - that He is capable of doing so because he is no human shepherd with human limitations.  Otherwise, how could we ever eat and grow strong and be made well?  Is that not the point of the table?

Even in the presence of enemies.

Can you see its contents?  Or are you seeing only the hoards (yet)?  Is it not a feast, spread out; spacious, gracious, lavish with every good thing we need?  What do you see?

It's okay, friend - really it is - to turn for a moment, from observing the hoards. It's okay to turn from those unkind words or betrayals.  (Like, when we are handed betrayals, what are we to do with them?  What CAN we do with them, really?  So, somebody betrayed us, and it hurts for real - deeply.  And we find ourselves in the shadows.  Or we've lost someone dear or something precious and now we are alone.  What can be done, really?)

Yes, turn to the Shepherd. He has something for you.  He does.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of ... . 

Where are you standing in proximity to it?  Come nearer, look closer.  What does the Shepherd prepare and place before you "in the presence of your enemies"?  Is He a kind Shepherd or not?  Maybe he's going to clip your wool, but that's embarrassing, don't think he'll do that before a rogue audience, now do you? Even if we do deserve it.  (Well, yea, Jesus got "clipped" before a hostile group.  But that was for love, for you and for me.  And, yea, the Shepherd will single out sheep for their clipping, but it's always with careful-loving-tender hands.  It's not for harm.  Or to humiliate.  Jesus bore our humiliation. In full.  So, there must be something more the Lord as Shepherd is about doing if it's not for harm or to humiliate, don't you think?  So, like, love is kind and patient, and inviting.  We do dumb things to ourselves, granted, but that's different.)

Okay, so I digress, but here's the point:  I don't really know what's "on the table" for you, but I know His character informs us all we need to understand or how to interpret what's happening to us. Yep, it's bad-really bad, sometimes, those things that happen to us.  But His character is mercy.  His character is kindness.  His character is constancy.  His character is patience.  It is righteous and good and in Him no darkness (or ruin) dwells.  And all of it rests on this: His characters is sovereign.  In other words, we are not. 

So everything is falling apart.  Yep.  Sometimes, it does.  But does it automatically mean that you or I must fall apart with it?  Or can we come to the table in the presence of so much bad?  And even if we do, physically or mentally or emotionally fall apart, does He hold onto us any less? Is his provision lessened?  No. In fact, where sin abounds (our own or another's) grace abounds more.  Whatever YOU need, as His lamb, you can be sure it's there.  Really.

Ask Him.

But here's the thing, as well, if all we can see or heed or give our attention to are the hoards in our presence, and not the Shepherd whose presence is real and is preparing what we need, we won't see what it is he places "before me" in their presence.  His promise is true.  But sometimes our vision is blurred.  How sad to pay heed to our enemies.  And not to the Lord or his care. 


You see, dear Reader, here's what I have learned about the table he prepares.  The table has a place, a setting, and a tending. And it has sheep - and sheep need a particular kind of table.  And the sheep need literal green grass.  And running brooks to quench their thirsts.  And tables. Prepared. 

How much more then, will the Lord, provide what you need - literally?  Do you need rescue?  Or do you need perseverance?  Do you need faith?  Or do you need grace?  Do you need joy?  Do you need hope?  Each of these is a very literal thing, and they are offered literally, not as abstractions.  We live in a world filled with mountains, valleys, trees, flowers, running-gurgling streams.  We live in a world over-flowing with beautiful children, kittens, wild stallions and baseballs and footballs.  With diamonds and silver and gold.  And coal.  (Yuck, but okay, nice to be warm.)

A world of ideas, of thought.

It's a world of God's own thought made literal - incarnated.  He knows we need incarnated rescue.  He knows we need literal grapes and apples and oranges.  Metaphoric food simply won't help our hunger or thirst physically.  Metaphoric justice won't defend a child who needs defended.  Metaphoric grace won't wipe the perspiring brow of a condemned man.  An act of kindness is very real, and it helps us regain our souls, our hopes.  So, Yes, he does know, and it comes "in the fullness of time."

You are cordially invited to the Table.


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Later this week, I plan to share a few more thoughts on Psalm 23 before moving to other topics. Please join me! :)

Also, in the archives there are a two other articles on which I have shared more reflections on Psalm 23.  It is so beautiful a psalm.  If you have time for nothing else, why not just read it?  Blessings!!!