Rev. George Miller
April 1, 2026
Psalm 23
Beloved, for many weeks, we have come
together in person and on-line, confronting and living with an honest,
vulnerable line from Isaiah: “All we like sheep have gone astray.”
Not some of us. Not the folk who
disagree with us. All of us.
We have wandered; we have been
distracted. We have followed wrong paths
with briars and thorns or paths of false promises of an oasis and things we
think we need. Sometimes we have simply
felt tired and lost our way.
But tonight, as we come to our final
Wednesday night, we receive something beautiful- Psalm 23.
It’s as if Psalm 23 answers the
question Isaiah placed before us. If we
are sheep who wander, who is guiding us home???
Psalm 23 begins with words that many
here tonight could recite by heart: The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not
want.
Now notice something. The psalm does not say:
“The Lord is my security system” or “The
Lord is my GPS.”
No. The Lord is my shepherd, a unique
kind of relationship.
A shepherd does not control sheep with
fear. A shepherd walks with them; watches them. A shepherd notices when one starts drifting
toward the edge of the field.
A shepherd learns the personalities of
the flock, and loves them. The
bold ones. The timid ones. The curious ones. And yes…the stubborn ones.
Psalm 23 describes what the shepherd
does- He makes me lie down in green pastures.
I resonate with that line.
Sheep will not lie down unless they
feel safe.
If they are anxious, if they sense
danger, if they feel unsettled, they stay on their feet. But when they trust
the shepherd, they rest.
They rest.
Like the hymn we’ve been singing, “The
Church’s One Foundation” that features
the lyric “And the great Church
victorious shall be the church at rest.”
Which is such a gentle reflection and invitation
of Lent: to stop striving for a moment; to stop carrying the whole world.
To simply allow ourselves to rest in
the presence of God.
Psalm 23 is honest. It does not
pretend life is all green pastures and still waters. The psalmist says “Even
though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”
Notice something important. It’s not an if, but more of a when.
Because valleys happen. Grief happens. Uncertainty happens. Moments come when we can’t see the path
clearly, shadows feel long, we wonder if we’ve wandered too far.
But the psalm gives us this thought: “For
you are with me.”
Not watching from a distance.
Not sending instructions from heaven. But with us.
In the valley.
In the shadows.
In the wandering.
This is where Psalm 23 begins to lean
toward Good Friday.
Because the Christian story tells us that
The Good Shepherd does not remain safely on the hillside.
In Jesus, the shepherd walks into the
valley, into suffering, into injustice, into death itself, so that nothing, not
even the darkest valley, can separate us from God.
Note how the psalm ends at a table. When someone prepares a table for you, it
means something- you are welcomed, you are wanted, you are protected.
Psalm 23 says God does just that.
Even when the world is chaotic, God
prepares a table.
Even when we have wandered, God
prepares a table.
Even when life feels uncertain, God
prepares a table.
And we know that table. It’s
the table of grace. The table of forgiveness. The table where Christ says, “Come
and eat.”
So tonight, as we come toward the end
of Lent, we remember two truths.
Yes, Isaiah was right- “All we like
sheep have gone astray.” And Psalm 23
reminds us of the second truth- We are not wandering alone, because the
shepherd keeps walking, searching, and guiding.
The Good Shepherd keeps setting the
table where Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my
life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
St. Lucas UCC- the story of the sheep
is not just about being lost.
It is about being guided home.
And that is the good news, for
that is where we find rest, and where we find heavenly victory.
For that, let us say “Amen.”
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