Pasadena
Presbyterian Church "Utter
Trust in the Darkest Valley" Scriptures: John 10:1-10 – Psalm 23 The
LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2 He maketh me to lie down in green
pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. 3 He restoreth my soul: he
leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. 4 Yea, though
I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for
thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 5 Thou preparest a
table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with
oil; my cup runneth over. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all
the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever, and
ever.” To offer our lives over to
God in utter trust of God’s provision, protection, and eternal care is the
theme of Psalm 23, that beloved passage that many of us memorized as young
children. “The Lord is my
shepherd, I shall not want. He
maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still
waters. He restoreth my
soul.” Among the most powerful metaphors in all of Scripture to illustrate the relationship of trust between the believer and the Lord is the image of the sheep and their shepherd. The metaphor is so powerful because it speaks so directly of our longing to rest in the comfort of a loving God, who will protect us, guide us, and see us through to the other side. As Christians, we know that Jesus is the shepherd who leads us to green pastures, beside still waters, restoring our soul. Yet there are problems with
shepherd and sheep imagery. The
first is that shepherds and sheep are a rural phenomenon and we are urban
and suburban dwellers. Shepherds
and sheep may be a little difficult to relate to.
How many of you are around sheep on a regular basis, raise your hand.
I didn’t think so. One
problem with the sheep/shepherd metaphor is a lack of familiarity. The other problem is that
sheep have a reputation as being rather stupid, dumb, and witless creatures.
Given their reputation, deserved or not, to connect the dots to a
flock of Presbyterians can pose some danger, especially to the preacher, if ewe
know what I mean. With either problem, lack of
familiarity or a poor reputation, I can come to the rescue, for you see, I
have direct experience with sheep. Exactly
thirty years ago, in my senior year of college, I had a job working at a
veterinary research farm. No, I
wasn’t a research scientist; I was a farmhand, the lowest employee on the
totem pole. One of my
responsibilities was to take care of a flock of sheep. I had a brief career
as a shepherd, of sorts. Twice a day, in early morning and late afternoon, I fed the sheep and the cattle. Periodically, I would scoop away animal byproducts with a front-loading tractor and, for fine detail work, a shovel. In the springtime, I led the sheep to pastureland and would watch them literally jump for joy when they began eating the new grass, after a long winter eating dry hay. Yes, I helped shear wool and other shepherdly tasks. I did other things befitting
my major in college: philosophy. I
plowed snow in the winter and cleaned restrooms in the winter, spring,
summer and fall. But it was the
sheep experiment with sheep liver flukes, you know, parasites that attach
themselves to sheep livers, where I found my true calling as a shepherd. You see, the PhD’s who ran
the research lab, during lambing season, assigned me the weekend task of
drawing blood from newborn lambs before they nursed from their mothers.
The scientists were testing a new drug that killed liver flukes, and
for some reason they needed vials of blood drawn from the lambs immediately
after their birth. This meant
that I had to get out of my bunk bed every hour on the hour throughout the
night, checking to see if any lambs had been born, assisting with labor if
necessary, and then drawing the vials of lamb’s blood with a syringe.
Because the sheep mothers did not care to schedule their time of
delivery to daylight hours, I had plenty of opportunities in the late night
to think philosophical thoughts. Now to the nitty-gritty of shepherding. Mother sheep, like many mothers, are very protective of their newborns. More than that, they are hardly dumb, but very crafty, even intelligent about protecting their young. Getting a vial of blood from the neck of a newborn lamb without suffering a head butt to the solar plexus took a deft touch. I learned that sheep are smart and that to be their shepherd required a gentle touch, a quiet presence and a firm resolve, the very qualities the Psalmist extols in our beloved Psalm. So I would get up in the middle of the night, every hour, to see whether a ewe had given birth. With familiarity, sensitivity, and gentle strength, the ewes began to trust me and, in the morning, I would deliver the vials of blood to the lab. Later, I changed career
trajectories and headed off to Divinity school to prepare for the ministry,
but the lessons remained. Sheep
need a shepherd they can trust, to provide for them, to “make them lie down in green pastures: to lead them beside still waters,
and to restore their souls.” To
summarize Psalm 23, sheep need simple things for their well-being.
They need good food: good,
green pastureland. They need
adequate water: fresh, clean, clear, still water, still water for their
thirsty souls. And sheep need
safe paths: safe paths where
they will not be harmed, where they will be safe from all that might hurt
them or destroy them or cause them to be filled with fear.
Sheep need simple things for their well-being.
Most of all they need a shepherd they can trust. Trust is the thing.
Trust is that gift of faith where we completely and utterly cast our
lives into the care of the Shepherd, the God who never lets us go.
This 23rd Psalm is so exquisite, so treasured, so beloved,
because it conveys at such a wonderfully intimate level the dazzling truth
that God is our shepherd, that we are the sheep of his fold, sinners of his
redeeming, and all we need to do is trust, to trust by casting our cares
into God’s hands, in good times and bad. Such trust in easy times is good; when
life is filled with green pastures and still, quiet waters.
When life is idyllic, trusting God is not all that difficult,
trusting the Shepherd is not all that difficult.
But when life is difficult, when life is hard, well, that’s an
entirely different matter. Let’s
look at the Psalm. The Psalm
begins with a scene of pastoral calm and tranquility.
Then in verses four and five the idyllic scene is interrupted with
something that is much more ominous. The
flock is not always safe. There
are dangerous, threatening places to be traversed, dangerous paths to wind
down, and lurking enemies to avoid. There
is the valley of the shadow of death. In
this darkest valley is terrain with lots of hiding places, suitable for
attack and ambush. There are
turns in the road where green pastures can no longer be seen, where the
pathway is foreboding, the streambed dry, the soul empty. Life inevitably presents not only green pastures and still waters when life is good, it sometimes delivers us to the valley of the shadow of death. When the shadows fall, when the skies darken, then in whom shall we place our trust? Now remember, I told you from my own
experience as a shepherd that sheep are smart. They aren’t dumb, stupid or witless. Sheep are smart. They
can be very smart. They’re
smart because they place their utter trust and complete confidence in the
shepherd. The sheep are
un-frightened in the darkest valley because the sheep know that with the
shepherd they are never alone. They
are not autonomous beings, alone in the world.
They do not have to fend for themselves.
They trust the shepherd. We
can be smart as well. “For
thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” Both species, sheep and humans, because we can be so smart also know about the dangers. We’re realistic. We are realistic about the dangers. We are realistic about the shadows, the hidden places, the places of temptation where we can be pulled away from the Shepherd. We are even realistic about the dark valley of death itself. As realists, we know that life will get hard. But the message is the same for both sheep and people; the message is even simple for people as well as sheep: even in the darkest valley, particularly in the deepest, darkest valley, trust the Shepherd. Trust in the Lord. Other biblical writers, in addition to the
Psalmist, convey similar messages about trusting in God. The Apostle Paul
writes, “I am convinced that neither
death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to
come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation,
will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord”
(Romans 8:38-39). Job, in his hour of need, declares, “I know my redeemer lives” (Job 19:25). And Jesus when he breathes his last says
to God, “Father, into thy hands I
commit my spirit” (Luke 23:46). How do we find such trust which ultimately
is a gift of faith? Prayer.
Only prayer works. Prayer
is that courageous act of vulnerability where we place our lives utterly and
completely into the hands of our loving God, and in Jesus, the Good
Shepherd—utter and complete trust. So let us pray, “Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend ourselves and our lives, our fears and our dreams, our failings and our joy. Acknowledge, we humbly pray, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive each one of us, our loved ones, and the lost and the lonely, across this whole world of yours. Receive all of us into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, into the glorious company of the saints in light. In the strong and gentle name of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, we pray. Amen. (c)
Copyright 2008 by Mark K. Smutny.
All rights reserved. Permission
granted for non-profit use with attribution. |
