"Beyond the Shepherd" (Psalm 23)

“…and then I remembered this basic religious principle that God isn’t there to take away our suffering or our pain but to fill it with his or her presence…”

(Annie Lamott, Traveling Mercies:  Some Thoughts on Faith)

In her book Claiming Ground, Laura Bell describes the three years she spent herding sheep in Wyoming’s Big Horn basin—how she lived in a sheep wagon—how she followed the herd all over northwest Wyoming, from the suspended top of the Big Horns in the summer to the lower range in the winter where there was more dirt than grass, but where the slanting sun would give the sheep a brief reprieve from the bitter air.

Laura writes, “I’ve been watching the storm simmer in the western sky; gray closing in over Heart Mountain.  The sheep are loud with complaint now and moving off the water and out into the hills, away, as if there is shelter within reach.  I call the dogs into to the wagon and feed them each a big finger of peanut butter from the jar.  When the storm hits us, the temperature plummets and sheets of rain and hair blast the wagon.  Within moments the gullies are running water.  The sheep are running.  The storm’s moving fast, and when it passes, I saddle up and slog through the mud to look for the sheep (1000 of them) and bring them home.  From the cliff, I can see the sheep below and one dead ewe, struck by lightning.  Out of this silence I give a whoop to turn back the lead sheep.  I’d never been so scared, and wondered if herders get killed by lightening…”   

Laura Bell is the only shepherd I’ve ever known (a Kentucky girl turned Wyoming shepherd, the daughter of Disciple pastor and former LTS President Wayne Bell), and I only get a glimpse of what a shepherd is like through her telling of her story: bold, generous, loyal, and vulnerable.  They know where the best pastures are.  They know their sheep and stick by them come rain or come shine.  They confront the sheep’s enemies.  They have enemies of their own—outside and inside.

We have sheep farms in Carbon County, only the shepherds have an interesting profile.  They tower above the sheep and hold their own with the horses.  What I am talking about are llamas, GUARD llamas.

In the Andes and plains of southern South America llamas are better known as a pack animal and a source of meat.  In Montana, they are the sheep’s fleecy shepherd.  If a coyote approaches the herd the llama stand straight up, lets out a cry of alarm and charges the threat, legs kicking—inserting itself between the sheep and the predator.

Were the author of Psalm 23 writing from Carbon County, Montana, the beginning two lines might have just as easily read, “The LORD is my llama, I have everything I need.”

I took the opportunity to rewrite Psalm 23.  Even though I live in Carbon County instead of Yellowstone County, I refrained from agricultural metaphors for God because I am not real familiar with the ins and outs of ranching. 

What I am familiar with is life with God, like you are familiar with life with God—God’s mercy, God’s leniency though guilty.  And God’s generosity—I am amazed by the gifts from the grandchildren to the ability to discern the divine in the world to the wisdom.  Not to mention God’s loyalty.  My heart says horrible things to God some days—to my knowledge, God has never quit on me.

When it comes to the 23^rd Psalm, some of the best stuff is in the middle.  Here’s my version:

Psalm 23:The Divine Shepherd A Psalm of David (and Dana).

The Source of my life guides me, I am content.

She surprises me with an oasis of opportunities in which to discover Her;

She introduces me to contemplation (inner stillness);

She helps me see the unity of all things—people, places, things.

She surprises me with mentors in the spiritual journey

Being true to Her I-Am-Ness.

Even though I discover the limitations of my personal power

and parts of my personality that trouble me,

I experience no anxiety.

For you are within me;

Your steady arms of support and correction

Envelope me like sweater.

You offer me the gift of divine life

In spite of my inner turmoil;

You support my mind with scripture and my heart with love;

My soul is consumed with your generosity.
I am certain that acts of kindness and forgiveness

will flow from You to me

As long as I live,

And I will be aware of your eternal presence all of my days.

Did you

Did you notice how I named the

green pastures,

the still waters,

the meal prepared for us in the presence of enemies,

what’s following me in my life,

the hope God’s presence brings?

Did you know that in verse 6 where the NRSV version of the Psalm writes “surely your goodness and mercy will follow me” that the word for follow is hesed, which means pursue?  God is coming after the psalmist?  This makes us wonder if the ending of the psalm is about all of the reasons the psalmist would like to be caught?

If you were to take the time to rewrite the 23^rd Psalm, how would you describe the green pastures, the still waters, the enemies, the overflowing cup, and the hope?  How is God loyal to you, generous to you…how has God not only led you but also pursued you?  Do you trust God?

Here’s another version.  It’s written by Norman Fischer in the style of Zen (Zen (Buddhism) is very simple… What are you?  In this whole world everyone searches for happiness outside, but nobody understands their true self inside.)  Fischer writes: 

You ARE MY SHEPHERD, I am content

You lead me to rest in the sweet grasses

To lie down by the quiet waters

And I am refreshed

You lead me down the right path

The path that unwinds in the pattern of your name

And even if I walk through the valley of the shadow of

death

I will not fear

For you are with me

Comforting me with your rod and your staff

Showing me each step

You prepare a table for me

In the midst of my adversity

And moisten my head with oil

Surely my cup is overflowing

And goodness and kindness will follow me

All the days of my life

And in the long days beyond

I will always live within your house.

Here’s a version with a bit more humor:

Psalm 23 for Today

Chris Gnanakan

Psalm 23 (For the Work Place)
The Lord is my real boss, and I shall not want.
He gives me peace, when chaos is all around me.
He gently reminds me to pray and do all things without
murmuring and complaining.
He reminds me that He is my source and not my job.
He restores my sanity everyday and guides my decisions
that I might honor Him in all that I do.
Even though I face absurd amounts of e-mails, system
crashes, unrealistic deadlines, budget cutbacks, gossiping
co-workers, discriminating supervisors and an aging body
that doesn’t cooperate every morning, I still will not stop—
for He is with me! His presence, His peace, and His power
will see me through.
He raises me up, even when they fail to promote me.
He claims me as His own, even when the company threatens
to let me go. His Faithfulness and love is better than any bonus check.
His retirement plan beats any 401k there is!
When it’s all said and done, I’ll be working for Him
a whole lot longer and for that, I bless His name!

The 23^rd Psalm is most often read at funerals, but it is so much bigger than that—the author is communicating that God is concerned about how we live---connected to the Spirit, confident even when threatened, hopeful; trusting!!! 

The 23^rd Psalm asks us if God’s presence makes a difference in how we live.  What do we make of God’s trustworthiness?
Some years ago a delightful man attended a Bible study I lead on a regular basis. He quoted the first couple of sentences of the 23^rd Psalm quite frequently.   “The LORD is my shepherd, what more do I need?” he’d say with a smile and a twinkle in his eye before he’d add, “Isn’t that great?” 

I met this man towards the end of his life when he resided in a little apartment in his sister’s home.  This man had spent most of his life as a medical doctor, but he was most excited about the opportunity he had to build a medical school in Thailand—and the son he adopted there, and then the son’s family. “That’s why I don’t have any money,” he told me one day, “I gave it all away.  It’s been a wonderful life!  The LORD is my shepherd, what more do I need?” 

Prayer:  May you be enough for us, Loving God, may you be enough.  Amen.

(This sermon was preached by Reverend Dana Keener at Central Christian Church in Billings, Montana.)

“God Knows . . . New Life” (Ezekiel 37:1-14)

God was at work. 

Ezekiel was about to be taught.

Plopped in the middle of an arid valley . . . dry bones spread out as far as the eye could see . . . the conversation began with a simple question to the prophet: “Son of man, can these bones live?”

Isn’t that the question on everyone’s mind?

The recent information that was shared from the Pew Research Center should not have come as a shock to those of us sitting in the actual pews . . . research shows that Christianity is losing ground in our society.  The research indicates that our society—as a whole—is becoming more secular.  Research indicates that the fastest growing religious group in society is not the conservative Christian movement . . . not some fancy fangled new age group . . . or even those other religions out there like the Muslims.  No, the fastest growing religious group in society is those who have become known as the “Nones”.

The “Nones” are those who respond—“none of the above”—when asked about their religious affiliation or preference.  The “Nones” include those who consider themselves to be “spiritual but not religious”.  This shift has been well documented inside and outside of the church for years, and the Pew Center’s research just confirms that the gap is widening.  The response of a lot of religious leaders who were overlooking the valley of dry bones that once was the church was, “Tell us something that we don’t know.”

And, they want to know, “Can these bones live?”

It has been a tough year in the lives of many of you sitting in the pews this morning.  There have been major changes in your personal lives that have changed the way that you go about your daily lives.  There have been drastic changes in the lives of your family that have rippled across your lives.  There have been days when it seemed as if the darkness of the night would never end . . . days when it was a struggle to get up and do it again.  Days that felt as if you were standing in the midst of the dry bones . . . wondering and praying . . . “Can these bones live?”

Isn’t that what everyone wants to know?

Ezekiel was a prophet in exile.  Living in Babylon he was called upon by God to deliver the Lord’s word to the people.  As part of the Judean side of the family, he was taken in captivity to Babylon after an unsuccessful rebellion.  There he was called upon by God to prophesy about the eventful fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple; to tell of God’s judgment against those who held God’s people—Judah and Israel—in captivity; and, to give them hope . . . that there would be a brighter future.  This was not an easy job when one considers the ravaging destruction that Babylon put upon the people of God . . . wiped them out and left nothing standing . . . took away their land, their temple, and their identity . . . leaving nothing behind but a symbolic valley of dry bones.  To this scenario God calls Ezekiel to bring a message of hope.  As he is looking out over the waste that was once a proud nation . . . that once believed themselves to be the “chosen ones”, the “children of God” . . . he wondered whether or not there would ever be life in those dry bones.

Thus it was that God threw the question back at Ezekiel: “Son of man, can these bones live?”

Ezekiel did not know: “O Sovereign Lord, you alone know.”

Not quite the answer God was hoping for.  What follows next is a demonstration of God as the Spirit moves to bring those dry bones to life.  God breathes upon them.  As the children’s song goes . . . the toe bone connects to the foot bone, foot bone connects to the leg bone, and on up until life is totally restored.  In this vision Ezekiel sees the power of God through the Spirit to bring life to what seems dried and wasted . . . he sees that through the Spirit the people of God will find life . . . he sees that there is hope in new beginnings.  God knows . . . God knows new life.

And, so it would come to be . . . at least for a while until the people of God screwed up again; but, that is another story for another time.  The fact is the Spirit of God brings new life even out of the driest of bones.

Now flash back to the story we have been hearing over the past few weeks about that time shortly after the crucifixion of Jesus.  Jesus had led a revival of the Jewish faith.  It was a revival that changed the world and brought hope to an oppressed people . . . that brought a promise of new day.  It was a revival that brought hope to all those who followed him.  With his arrest, trial, and eventual crucifixion that was all changed in the wink of an eye.  The followers of Jesus were at a loss as to what would happen next.  Their dynamic and charismatic leader was gone.  All the momentum they had built was gone.  They were a scattered group . . . hiding . . . hiding for their lives.  The devastation was total . . . the valley was scattered with dry bones in all the directions that they looked.

How were these dry bones ever going to live?

Well, we know the Easter story . . . Jesus lives.  Easter is filled with the stories of the living Jesus coming to the disciples while they are in hiding . . . teaching and showing them that there was hope . . . that there still was a way.  Over and over again he tells them that the time is coming when God will breathe on them and that breath will bring to them new beginnings . . . new life.  The Spirit will be upon them.  And, then he was gone.

Bewildered, the disciples were still wondering: “Can these bones live?”

Yes!

While together on the Feast of Pentecost God breathe upon them . . . the Spirit moved among them.  “Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting.  They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest upon each of them.  All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them.” (Acts 2:1-3, NIV)  Others in Jerusalem for the celebration heard  the ruckus and came running . . . Jews from every nation . . . a large crowd gathered.  They looked . . . they listened . . . and, they understood.  They understood because they too had the breath of God in them; they, too, had the Spirit.  It was new life in dry bones.

With Ezekiel, God showed the power of the Spirit . . . the power of God’s breath . . . and its ability to bring new life even to a pile of dry bones.  God showed Ezekiel that with the Spirit there was new life . . . that there was hope.

Jesus’ followers—his disciples—learn too of the power of God’s breath . . . of the Spirit.  Out of the darkness of hopelessness a spark kindles a fire of promise and hope.  It pulls the bones together.  It gives them life.  Though the people come from all walks of life . . . come from different nations . . . speak different languages . . . live differently . . . the Spirit brings them together.  They understand one another.  There is hope.  There is new life.

On this Day of Pentecost there is always hope for new life.  As we look around the world we live in, it is true that we wonder if “these bones can live?”  As we pause and consider our own lives with their struggles, we have to admit that there are moments when we wonder if “these bones can live?”  We wonder . . . and, we know.  We know that God knows. 

And, what is it that God knows?

God knows that there can be new life.

God knows that through God’s breath even dry bones can live again.

God knows that through the breath of God . . . through the Spirit . . . new life is born.

God knows new beginnings . . . new life.  God’s breath is upon us all.  There is hope in new beginnings . . . where shall the Spirit lead us?  Amen.