Read Psalm 23. Now read it again out loud, slowly.
Green pastures, quiet waters, restoration, right paths, darkest valleys, full tables, overflowing cups, forever mercies. One of these things is not like the other and, if I am honest, I wish we could skip right over that darkest valley part, don’t you? Why does the valley of the shadow of death even need to be a part of the experience of walking with the Good Shepherd through life?
And yet, as we read this Psalm, there is no getting away from the darkness. Psalm 23 is written as a circular poem. The first idea goes along with the last idea. The second idea with the second to last idea and so on. In circular poems the middle is the most important — the theme of the entire poem. And guess what is right in the middle of this Psalm?
As I have followed the Shepherd through many seasons, I am finally beginning to see how important those darkest of valleys can be. They are often the sweetest moments of connection with Him. I would not often choose these times, and yet when it is too dark to see, I need to be close to Him. In lighter times, I can let Him walk ahead while I mosey along glancing up every once in a while to see that I am still going in the right direction. But in the dark valley, I need to be so close that I can touch Him. And even then I cannot depend on my shaking hand to grasp Him, instead I need for Him to hold me close.
For those who don’t know me, I work for Cru. It is a worldwide ministry that focuses on college students. For many years I served with Cru in East Asia. But five years ago after living in East Asia for about nine years, the valley went dark. Up until this point, my time overseas had not been without trials, but by and large my ministry there had been a great gift. I had the privilege of doing work that was full of purpose as I saw the Lord open hearts to know Him for the first time. It was a dream to witness these miracles and walk with new believers as they learned the hope, joy and love of life with the Good Shepherd. I also got to walk with new missionaries as they learned how to introduce college students, who had never thought about God before, to their friend Jesus. I even got to coach new believers on how to tell their families about Jesus. My life was full of the faithful provision of the Good Shepherd. I was far from my family and missed them deeply, and at the same time the Lord provided family away from family. We had worked to create deep-rooted communities that shared vulnerably and depended on one another. It was a beautiful life that felt like the “right path for His Name’s sake.”
And then it all went dark. We all knew that the work we were doing was full of risk. The country I served in was closed to the Gospel and did not want missionaries to tell others about Jesus. So when faced with orders to leave the country within three days, I was not surprised but I was devastated. The dream had become a nightmare. And yet in the moments of being accused, threatened and interrogated, the Good Shepherd was with me. As I silently prayed that He would give answers, patience, kindness, courage and steadiness, He continued to answer: I am with you, I am with you, I am with you.
In the coming months and years as I have walked through the deep grief that came as I left a place and a people that had become a home and family, the enemy has thrown lie after lie at me. He has tried to convince me that I am unwanted, alone, purposeless, broken, and unnecessary. Yet as I return to this Psalm, I see that while in the darkest, grief-filled valley with the scheming enemies all around, the Shepherd prepares a feast of honor and anointing. He doesn’t ask us to get it together or have more faith. Rather, in our weakest place He bestows honor and overflows our cups with His love and care. This gift of honor and provision has nothing to do with who I am, but everything to do with who He is: the Good Shepherd.
We each have places in our story where it all “went dark” and the world as we knew it changed. And yet the Good Shepherd always “leads us along the right paths for His name’s sake” (verse 4). While my life in East Asia felt like the right path, it is true that leaving East Asia was a part of the Shepherd’s sovereign plan too. I once thought of this verse as God moving us around so the most people could hear about Him and worship Him more fully. I think that is a part of it, but a friend recently pointed out to me that in this Psalm these are the right paths for His name’s sake as a Shepherd. And a Shepherd’s reputation is reflected in the well-being of His sheep. The right path is as much for my good as His sheep, as it is for His good name as a Shepherd. That is the good, loving, self-sacrificing Shepherd that we know and love.
Isn’t it beautiful that in this Psalm when the darkness comes, the pronouns change. When the pastures are green, the waters quiet and the paths right, He is there guiding. But when the valley gets dark the Shepherd becomes You. You are with me, Your rod and your staff comfort me. He comes closer! He is always a Shepherd we can personally call. He is always the Shepherd who will come near to us. As I read this Psalm, I am challenged to call out to Him when things are light, and when things are dark. May we always be people who hear, know and repeat: You are with me, You are with me, You are with me.