Easter 4

Mrs. Morgan is on a field trip with 45 third-grade students. They’re in the big city for a “Day in the City” experience. They will walk to the art museum. They will ride the light rail. They will walk on sidewalks and obey traffic signs. They will have a buddy at all times.

But Mrs. Morgan is not happy.

See Mrs. Morgan run. See Mrs. Morgan tapping on her cell phone. See Mrs. Morgan talking to the policeman. See Mrs. Morgan’s vision of losing her job. What’s wrong?

A child is missing. After three head counts, it is confirmed. One kid is AWOL, and now Mrs. Morgan needs to determine the missing child’s name.

            Think of Psalm 23 as a sort of field trip. But instead of a teacher, the leader of this field trip is called “My Shepherd.” The 45 third-graders are sheep. We are sheep. And the shepherd, being a good shepherd, knows that anything and everything might go wrong.

Some of the sheep will get sick. Others will wander off if not monitored carefully. Some will bleat like crazy because they sense a predator nearby. Some will do something foolish and deliberately avoid the shepherd.

Here’s the thing: when a shepherd leads the sheep from the holding pen, or the “fold,” he is officially on a field trip. On this field trip, the shepherd will need to feed the flock, lead them carefully when passing through narrow and dangerous areas, open up the first aid kit as needed, and, finally, lead them home. In other words, the shepherd is provider, protector, healer and host.

The psalmist describes his situation as being without “want” or as lacking nothing. Lacking nothing? Isn’t there something that perhaps the Lord and Shepherd has missed, forgotten or neglected?

Yet David insists that he is lacking nothing when the Lord is his shepherd.

Sometimes, our situation might be analogous to the kids on that field trip. No doubt at times they might feel that they’re bored, suffering, pushed to their limits or deprived. The reality is that Mrs. Morgan is taking care of them perfectly, providing everything the children need, even if they don’t think so.

Notice the verb in verse 2: “He makes me lie down in green pastures.” Sounds like an 8-year-old talking about his trip leader. She made me walk single file. She made me take a rest. She made me stay with my buddy. She made me be quiet.

We’re not children. We understand that it’s hard to take the long view, that only God truly knows what we need for the present moment. That’s why, when we follow Jesus as our Good Shepherd, we do so as an act of faith. We know that we are taken care of and will be provided with everything that we need for our well-being. David says, “He leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths” (vv. 2-3).

The Good Shepherd provides.

            Sheep prefer sun to shadows. But sometimes, the shepherd has to lead the sheep through dark places and deep valleys where the shadows are long and dark.

Often, the way seems dangerous and foreboding. It’s not unusual in some states in the West (like Wyoming and Montana) to come across a shepherd who is leading the flock down a state or county highway in order to get the flock to a different pasture. Cars and trucks have to wait until the shepherd gets them off the road.

Mrs. Morgan certainly had this same task. On more than one occasion, she and her teacher aides had to lead their flock of 45 kids across streets and intersections. Cars waited. Trucks came to a halt. Crossing took place only in designated areas and when the traffic lights were green. The children were perhaps unaware of all that their teacher was doing for them. But she protected them from harm. She stayed alert for potential dangers. She was always thinking, “What can possibly go wrong?” And when she had answered that question, she made the appropriate adjustments.

This kind of attention might evoke love and appreciation. In David’s case, the pronoun changes. He had been referring to the shepherd in the third person — describing what “my” shepherd does. But now, he switches to second person. In other words, he addresses the shepherd directly: “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” (vv. 4-5).

David realizes that something special is happening. So, he turns to the Shepherd and his words reveal a sense of amazement and appreciation. “I know what you’re doing. You’re taking care of me; you’re protecting me, and I’m very grateful.”

Of course, it’s not always green pastures and still waters. It’s not always a rose garden, and the path is not always, if ever, strewn and scented with rose petals. Sometimes, the valleys and dark paths are necessary. And the shepherd cannot make predators go away.

But David recognizes that in the midst of the valley, while walking dark pathways, while surrounded by predators, the Shepherd is right there!

It might seem odd, but sheep stumble. They run into things. One expert, testifying to a Senate sub-committee, called it “ovine ineptitude.”

Kids do that, too. They trip. They run into each other. They bump into brick walls and break their noses. There has never been a field trip in the history of field trips without some incident or accident.

Of course, Mrs. Morgan is prepared. And so is the Good Shepherd. Speaking directly to the Shepherd, David says, “You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows” (v. 5). This is no doubt a reference to the custom of anointing the heads of favored guests at a lavish banquet or dinner with oil. But in the context of a shepherd with his sheep, it makes perfect sense to recall that shepherds were not only guards, dieticians, pathfinders and traffic police officers, but also doctors and nurses. A shepherd had to have a knowledge of medicine. He had to know how to treat the most common sheep injuries. A shepherd knew what to do when the sheep had injured themselves, or had been wounded by a predator.

Our injuries may be of the body, soul or spirit. Our suffering might be physical, or it might be psychological. We could be brokenhearted, or simply broken. We might be at loose ends, or not know which end is up.

The shepherd knows how to heal wounds, where to pour the oil. The shepherd knows where it hurts.

And the shepherd leads the sheep home, where the shepherd acts as a sort of host. The one who is shepherd at the beginning of this psalm is the Lord dwelling in a house at the end of the psalm. David has already alluded to the Shepherd as a host with his references to a table that is prepared and the anointing of oil — a scene that has Eucharistic overtones.

But now, David reminds us that the shepherd is always aware that he must get the flock to a safe place by nightfall. He leads them to the fold. He takes them to a safe place.

David uses this as a metaphor for our eternal home, when we are led at last to the “house of the Lord,” where we shall spend eternity. Whatever perils we may face in this life, we can live confidently, knowing that the Good Shepherd will faithfully lead us to our eternal home.

This, you remember, was Mrs. Morgan’s concern. She was missing a student. Of the many things she was charged with doing, returning the children safely to their home at the end of the day was one of them, perhaps the most important responsibility of all.

After some frantic investigation, she found out what happened. A parent had met the group downtown, and then, inexplicably, the parent left the group, taking his child with him. He and the child returned home without notifying the group leaders. So, Mrs. Morgan was missing a child.

The Good Shepherd, however, will not lose track of us. David writes, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever” (v. 6). David will experience the presence of the Good Shepherd throughout his entire life and on into eternity.

All in all, a rather good field trip for God’s sheep.