Hello my friends,
This is Mark Gladman,
Also known as Brother Frederick James,
Your friendly neighbourhood monk in dogs.
Welcome back to the way home.
So far in our journey.
We've gone through stories of wandering,
Being found,
Disappointment and failure.
We watch the particle sun turn towards home.
Allowed ourselves to be found by the shepherd,
We walked the road to Emmaus and discovered Christ beside us when we couldn't even recognise him.
And we've sat with Peter beside the fire,
Discovering that failure doesn't have the final word.
And today we slow down.
Today we won't be going on some sort of journey to a distant country,
No road stretching towards somewhere.
No great moments of restoration.
Instead there's a shepherd.
And sheep and green pastures and still waters.
A dark valley.
A table.
And the Han.
Psalm 23.
It's probably the most familiar passages in all of scripture,
But sometimes familiarity can make it difficult to hear.
We know the words so well that we can't.
.
.
Find ourselves not listening to them anymore,
Not truly hearing them.
Today,
Rather than trying to explain Psalm 23,
We're going to inhabit it.
We're going to walk slowly through it and allow the words to become prayer.
The way home.
Isn't always about finding the right direction.
But learning to trust the one who's leading us.
So as we begin,
Settle yourself,
Take a slow breath in.
And slowly breathe out.
Allow yourself to become still.
And for the next few moments,
Realize that you have a shepherd.
And that's probably all you need,
At least for now.
Let's pray.
Shepherd of our souls,
Slow us down.
Quiet the noise within us.
Teach us to trust your guidance.
When we're restless,
Give us stillness.
When we're afraid,
Give us courage.
When we're lost,
Lead us,
And when we can't see the way home,
Help us trust that you already know the way.
So listen.
To the words of Psalm 23.
See if you can try and hear them again.
For the first time.
The Lord 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 right paths for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil,
For you are with me.
Your rod and your staff.
They comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil,
My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.
And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord.
Forever.
Now the psalm begins.
With a declaration.
The Lord is my shepherd.
Not the Lord gives me a shepherd.
Or sends me a map or gives me a plan.
The Lord is.
My shepherd,
And the difference between those things is subtle but important.
It's easy to get there.
The idea.
That the sort of life Jesus was talking about,
The life in God,
Is a life about receiving some sort of religious instructions.
But it's not.
It's about relationship.
A shepherd knows the sheep.
The shepherd watches.
The shepherd leads.
The shepherd protects.
The shepherd knows where to find food and water,
Knows where the paths are dangerous.
Knows when the sheep need to stop.
And the sheep,
Because of this,
Don't need.
To understand the whole journey,
They simply need to stay close.
To the shepherd.
And that may be a word for you today that you may have been trying to work out.
The whole future.
Carrying decisions that feel too large.
Asking questions like,
Where am I going?
What happens next?
Have I chosen the right path?
And maybe God today is saying to you,
You don't need to know the whole path.
You only need to know who is leading you.
And then comes.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
Now it's easy to miss the nuance that sits here in this phrase.
Because quite frankly,
The way most of us live,
You'd think that this verse says,
He allows me to keep working.
Or gives me more things to accomplish,
But no,
He makes me lie down.
That's very countercultural.
The world we live in.
Rewards movement and productivity and information and achievement and activity But this shepherd knows when you need to stop.
And I wonder whether sometimes we feel lost.
Not because the direction we're going is necessarily wrong,
But because we've forgotten how to stop and we keep walking and working and consuming and producing and scrolling and thinking.
And planning until eventually we no longer recognize or hear the shepherd's voice.
And so maybe the first movement towards home.
Is to stop.
In fact here in Australia.
From very,
Very young,
We're told,
If you ever get lost in the bush.
Stop.
And in the context of the psalm.
We're told to stop and allow ourselves to lie down.
Not everything's necessarily finished,
There might still be things to be done,
But.
.
.
We need to know that we're loved,
Even when we're not producing anything.
So imagine yourself right now.
In a green pasture,
Soft grass,
Fresh still air.
Nowhere you need to go.
Nothing you need to accomplish.
The shepherd is there.
You can rest.
Notice how difficult.
That that can fail.
Maybe in that stillness,
Your mind comes to think about tomorrow and work and family and money and responsibilities and the things you forgot to do.
And when that happens,
Let them come.
But then.
.
.
Also let them go.
Return.
To the stillness,
Return to the grass,
Return to the air,
Your breath,
But mostly return to the shepherd who is watching over you while you rest.
Now the psalm interestingly also points out that the waters that the shepherd will lead you by are still.
There's something about stillness that allows us to see.
When the surface of the water is turbulent,
Nothing reflects clearly,
But still water,
Like a mirror.
And this is why stillness,
I think,
Is so important.
In spiritual practice because when the surface of our life becomes quiet.
We begin to see what's underneath.
Our fears,
Desires,
Wounds,
Hopes.
And eventually,
Maybe the presence of God.
So take a breath.
And imagine the water before you,
Still.
Clear.
And imagine the shepherd beside you.
And just be there.
And right there in the heart of the psalm are the words,
He restores my soul.
Notice who's doing the restoration.
He.
Restores.
There's some things that we can't repair.
There's places in us that need grace and Maybe,
Like many of us,
You've spent many years trying to fix yourself,
To become more disciplined or successful or spiritual or worthy.
But what if,
What if the deepest work?
Is not something that you can do yourself.
What if we need to allow ourselves to be restored?
And so imagine placing your tiredness.
.
.
Into the hands of the shepherd,
Your disappointment,
Your anxiety,
Your regrets,
Your weariness,
Your unanswered questions.
And simply pray,
Restore my soul.
And then suddenly,
The landscape of the Somme changes.
The green pasture disappears,
The still waters are behind us,
And now there's a dark,
Valley.
One that some translations call the Valley of Death.
There's no pretending in this psalm,
And this is quite important.
Faith doesn't mean we'll never enter dark places.
The spiritual life.
Even the Christian spiritual life.
Is not a promise of perpetual green pastures.
There's valleys and grief.
Illnesses,
Disappointment,
Even death.
And those seasons,
You know,
The ones when God seemed silent.
But the psalmist says,
Even though I walk through the valley of death,
Or the darkest valley,
I fear no evil.
Why?
For you are free.
With me.
So the promise isn't an absence of valleys,
But a promise of presence with you in those valleys.
So maybe somewhere along the way.
We've been given the wrong idea about faith.
Sometimes we think of faith.
That it means if we trust God enough,
Life gets easier.
But Psalm 23 actually offers us something very different.
It doesn't promise an easy road or that we'll never walk through dark times,
But it does promise that we'll never walk The road alone.
The shepherd.
Walks through it with us.
And so bring to mind a valley.
That you may be walking through at the moment.
Don't name it,
Just recognise it.
And imagine yourself walking through it.
Maybe the path is narrow and it's dark.
You can't see very far ahead.
But within their all,
The shepherd.
Is beside you.
You don't know what's around the next bend.
You can't see where the.
.
.
Edges of the path are,
But you know who is beside you.
Take another step.
And another.
The shepherd's there.
And while you can't see the whole way,
You don't need to,
Because you only need to take the next step.
And then as we move through the psalm,
Once again,
There's this unexpected change.
Suddenly there's a table.
You prepare a table before me.
A table,
Food,
Abundance,
Welcome.
Communion.
It's almost like this is another image of home,
A home where there's a place for you at the table.
You don't have to earn the seat or compete for the seat.
It's already been prepared for you and your place is waiting.
And then the psalmist says,
My cup overflows.
And that's important.
You know,
It's not just a cup of enough.
Or that's been measured out in some way to make sure you don't get more than you should have.
It's an overflowing cup.
This is a God.
Of generosity,
Of abundance,
Of grace upon grace and we need to remember that when we become.
.
.
Preoccupied with scarcity,
You know,
The things,
Not enough time or money or energy or success or love.
This shepherd's table tells us another story.
There is enough.
You are enough.
And grace.
Is enough.
Just allow that to sit with you in the silence.
For a moment.
And then comes that beautiful line,
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.
But did you notice the verb?
Follow.
Goodness follows you.
Mercy.
Follows you.
Just imagine that.
You're not walking through life alone because behind you,
Goodness is following.
Mercy is following.
Grace is following.
On the days you can't see it,
When you make mistakes,
When you make wrong turns,
When you become distracted,
The mercy of God is still there.
Behind you.
And then the psalm ends with home.
I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long or forever.
The journey ends.
Where the series began,
Home.
But now we understand home differently,
Because home.
.
.
A geographical place in time and space.
Home isn't a place where there's an absence of problems.
Home isn't always the end of the journey either.
Home is the presence of the shepherd,
The one who leads us through green pastures and beside still waters,
The one who restores our soul,
The one who walks with us through the valley and prepares the table,
The one whose goodness follows us and the one who leads us home.
So for these final moments,
Just imagine yourself walking with the shepherd.
Maybe you're in a green pasture,
Besides still water,
In a dark valley,
Sitting at a table.
Wherever you are in the image,
The shepherd is there.
And so ask yourself,
What do I need from the shepherd today?
Do I need rest or guidance or courage?
Maybe healing,
Forgiveness,
Reassurance,
Or maybe,
Maybe just presence.
And as the answer stirs up in you,
Offer it as a prayer.
To God and you might pray.
.
.
Shepard me.
Friend you don't need to know the way.
You don't need to see beyond the next bend.
All you have to do is stay close.
And listen.
And follow.
Good Shepherd.
Laters.
When we're restless,
Give us rest.
When we're thirsty,
Lead us to still waters.
When our souls are tired,
Restore us.
When we enter the valley,
Stay beside us.
When we forget that we belong,
Remind us that there's already a place for us at your table.
And when we can't see the way home,
Help us to trust you enough.
To take the next step.
May your goodness follow us,
And your mercy surround us,
And may we learn that wherever you are,
There,
We are already home.
Thank you for being with me in today's reflection.
Today.
Maybe you just need to stop and breathe and listen.
And remember that the way home isn't always about knowing where you're going.
Sometimes it's just about staying close to the shepherd.
And so may grace,
Peace and love hold you,
Be with you and carry you as you stay close to the shepherd today and always.
Amen.
Until tomorrow.
Bye for now.
