Sermon Tone Analysis

Scripture: Psalm 23:1-6

Sermon Title: “The LORD is my shepherd…”

           This morning we’re beginning a new series, which I’ve entitled, “Fall in the Psalms.”

I chose that title simply because of what season of the year we are in and what book of the Bible we’re going to spend time in from now through Thanksgiving.

I didn’t intend for it to have some double meaning, that I’m trying to highlight humanity’s fall into sin through the lens of the psalms—though that may show up.

After today, for the next five weeks, we’re going to take up one of the psalms in each of the five book divisions that you may notice as you go through this book.

The book of Psalms is not a disorganized, thrown together list of poems, songs, or prayers, but specific ones are grouped together for a common purpose.

That said, today I’ve picked Psalm 23 really on its own.

As I look back on my almost seven years in ordained ministry, this is likely my most repeatedly read in public passage.

That of course is not unique to me.

For many pastors Psalm 23 is one of the go-to Scriptures that we might share with a person who appears near death or for a funeral service or to continue to comfort those who are mourning.

It is a comforting psalm because it expresses the nearness of the LORD to his people.

In general, it’s also a well-known, well-loved, and like the favorite psalm of most people.

That seems to be true, not just of devoted Christians, but of people who may have nothing to do with Christ or Christianity or the church.

Either their parents or grandparents or someone taught them these words growing up, and they have been imprinted on them and cannot be forgotten.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, perhaps these words bring to mind a person or a memory or a message or remark that was made alongside of them.

I went back through the funerals that I have led and comments I’ve made around this psalm.

I’ve described Psalm 23 as the way God leads each of us—believers—through his life.

He is the provider, the partner, the restorer, the guide, the comforter, the abundant blesser—and the psalm’s ending announces the life that is ahead for the son or daughter of God.

These verses are a journey: as the images move along, you can picture someone lying down in green pastures, walking beside quiet waters, going down the path together, walking even through valleys of darkness.

Then we leave nature and come to the banquet table—maybe even in a great palace—a feast is prepared, the head is anointed, and we take our seats.

Then we remain there—dwelling in the house of the Lord forever.

I’ve highlighted in funerals how the psalm shows not only how God leads, but also the comfort that he is with us!

We are not alone in this life.

The psalm teaches us that death is not the end; rather, by putting our hope and trust in the Lord Jesus, we have so much to look forward to!

The psalm describes a life that is satisfied but also a life abundantly blessed.

I’ve shared how the psalmist reminds us that we do not escape or get to bypass the dark, dreary valleys of pain and sorrow and death here on earth, but our ever-faithful God is present in them.

There are a lot of different angles and experiences which we can come to this psalm from, and that we may see it applying to our lives.

Going forward we’ll look at three.

The first is: why shall we not be in want?

I was reminded of how this year continues to fly by this week in my e-mail inbox with advertisements from both Fleet Farm and Farm and Fleet for their Christmas Toyland coming to their stores and the catalogs have been published.

Admittedly, I enjoy seeing the toys and what my kids want to play with, even though I keep saying we don’t need any more toys.

Yet that’s what the holiday shopping season is aimed at—making us or our children or other people in our lives want things, even thinking that we need things that aren’t necessities.

Advertisers try to convince us, “You won’t be happy without this.”

And especially this year, “You better get it quick because if you don’t, someone else will have it, and you’ll be left wanting.”

Is that kind of wanting what verse 1 is talking about?

The Hebrew word “ḥsar,” which has been translated in the NIV as “in want” can also be translated as lacking, describing something that is gone or empty or deprived.

Back in Exodus 16, when we read of the Israelites picking up manna that God provided for them, we’re told that no one had “too much” and no one had “too little.”

They weren’t lacking or in want.

In Deuteronomy 2, when Moses spoke of really all of life over the 40 years the Israelites spent in the wilderness, he reminded them, “…The LORD your God has been with you, and you have not lacked anything.”

That sentiment, that message, is really what we find at the start of Psalm 23.

Because of the reality that, “The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.”

That’s a more literal translation—I shall not be lacking or deprived or have too little.

The CSB, the Christian Standard Bible, translates it in a more dynamic way, “I have what I need.”

In either case, the reason that is true is because the LORD God is the psalmist’s shepherd.

In Israel’s history, the reason they didn’t lack food or clothes or a homeland or other provisions was because the LORD God was with them.

Again, in the ancient period, the shepherd had many roles, many responsibilities as a provider and caretaker of the sheep.

Another piece historians have observed, though, is kings in this area of the world were often viewed as shepherds—so God’s ruling over all things may also be understood in this.

He does not let his citizens, his servants, his people lack what he knows they need.

This is the believer’s privilege, too.

Because God has loved you, and you have received that love in faith, you and I can be assured that God will not leave us.

We have that hope in the gracious and finished work of Jesus Christ and the gift of the Holy Spirit.

This is what enabled Paul to write to the believers in Rome—Romans 8 verse 31 and then jumping ahead, “…If God is for us, who can be against us?...Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?

Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?...No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

If that is true for us, if we are confident in Jesus as our Savior, there is nothing that should still feel lacking or wanting in you before the Father.

There is nothing that you need that he does not know of and will not provide for you according to his purposes.

It’s because of our God that we should not and need not be in want.

Let’s move on to our next point: how do we respond in the valley of the shadow of death?

As we leave verse 1, verses 2 and 3 paint this beautiful, tranquil picture of life with God.

“He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.

He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.”

Different commentators note just how much there’s this sense of “contented and secure rest,” flourishing life, “refreshment and well-being,” “safe paths free from danger.”

All is well, enjoyable, and seems carefree until verse 4.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…” All of a sudden, the green pastures, the quiet waters, the paths of righteous completely fade away.

I’m not a big Disney fan, but the image of The Black Forest from “Beauty and the Beast” comes to mind.

It’s dark and creepy and it feels like someone is watching you and wild animals are lurking in the shadows ready to chase you down.

That’s fitting with the Hebrew term that is the “shadow of death.”

It’s a poetic term used to describe dark and distressing places, where death is real and present.

As I said before, the psalmist reminds us that God’s people do not escape or get to bypass the dark, dreary valleys of pain and sorrow and death here on earth.

Whether we experience those things frequently or rarely, they are bound to come up in our lives.

We are created for relationships; we are created to live in community.

Because of that, we will encounter death.

Sometimes we can address death with a rather brief time of grief and mourning.

When someone passes away at the age of 90 or 100, and there’s no spouse who’s still alive, and especially if they were in pain or experiencing sickness, we can talk about it being a relief.

There’s still sadness for those who are close, but it’s easy to bear and celebrate.

If they were a believer, we quickly remark about how they no longer have to suffer here and how they were ready to go.

Yet many of us have experienced circumstances where death or the threat of death is particularly agonizing.

If you’ve lost a child during pregnancy or when they were born or growing up; likewise, if you lost a parent when you were young; if you’ve known people who have lost their lives in an accident or to suicide or to some disturbing criminal act—ways that we don’t consider a “natural” death; if you’ve gone through the loss of someone that you saw as “too young,” even when we know that they were secure in their faith and hope—none of these are easy.

Everyone handles death a bit differently, but typically the closer someone is to us, the more real it is that everything peaceful and tranquil can seem to slip away, and life can become and remain dark.

Maybe it happens in a moment, maybe it happens as time goes on and shows up unexpectedly in our lives.

Sometimes it can become so gloomy that we forget what those green pastures, quiet waters, and places of restoration were like, maybe even doubting they’ll ever return.

Yet the psalmist reminds us of what we must not lose sight of or forget.

In that place, “…the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

That word “neham,” translated comfort, does not mean the LORD our shepherd tells us to get over it and move on with our lives.

No, the comfort of the LORD who is with us, is such that he joins us in pity and compassion and grief.

In John 11, we find the account of Lazarus’ sickness and death.

Lazarus was a dear friend of Jesus, and the chapters ends with Jesus resurrecting him back to life.

But when Jesus first showed up, we read in verse 19 how “…Many Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother.”

Then in verses 33 through 35, when Jesus saw Mary and the Jews weeping, “…He was deeply moved in spirit and troubled…” and he wept.

God is most certainly with us through the valleys of the shadow of death we walk through.

He’s not just getting us out of them so we can return to normal life; he mourns the reality of death being part of this world and he comforts us—he is with us.

Our response is to continually to trust in Christ, the one who claimed and promised, “‘I am the resurrection and the life.

He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die…’” Death does not have the final say; it does not have authority over us and we don’t need to face it or to go through it alone.

We enter and go through and come out of the valley with Christ.

That brings us to our final point.

When we look at the title line of this psalm, we see that David wrote it.

Many of us know parts of his life—he defeated Goliath, his life was threatened by Saul, he lost his friend Jonathan, but hey he became king!

Maybe we think, “It’s easy for someone in his position and all that God blessed him with to say such things.”

But how does an average or impoverished person view their life as favored when we feel God’s favor is lacking?