“The Lord is my shepherd . . . surely goodness and mercy shall follow me.”

(Psalm 23)

Shepherds  and sheep are rather remote realities for most of us. About as close as we get to either nowadays is an occasional dinner where leg of lamb is the main course. So it might seem that for us “The Lord is my Shepherd” is a passage of scripture almost worn out. Stephen Cole says that the contemporary American conception of God is that of a Cosmic Bellhop, and that His customers, i.e., church members — want God’s gifts rather than God Himself.

And perhaps, it is for this reason, more than the un-pastoral nature of our modern life, that the imagery of the shepherd Psalm seems a mite antiquated and unreal to us today.

In dealing with this Psalm, however, what we need most to remember is that it is a relationship, rather than a single portrait, that the Psalmist is here painting. It is not only God, the tender shepherd, but also man, the dumb and unprotected sheep that he portrays. This gem of a parable celebrates a religious relationship: “The Lord is my shepherd, therefore I shall not want.”

Of course, if faith for a man is nothing more than Eric Fromm’s faith in oneself — “A faith rooted in one’s own experience, in the confidence of one’s own power of thought, observation and judgment,” a faith which Fromm deems so necessary for man and for want of which he thinks contemporary America is perishing psychologically — if a man’s faith is nothing more than this sort of screwed-up self-reliance, then this Psalm can have no meaning. Its metaphor of the shepherd-sheep relationship is just a quaint primitive fable of mankind’s remote childhood.

But, if one shares with Martin Buber the inner spiritual reality of an “I-Thou” relationship; if with Wordsworth one has felt a presence that disturbs him with the sense of elevated thoughts; or known with Tennyson a reality wholly other, “closer than breathing and nearer than hands and feet;” if, as Jesus did, one has met someone when he prayed, then this Psalm, with it’s quaint imagery of the God-man relationship in the metaphor of the shepherd and his sheep, will strike immediately home.

Always for the unreligious or irreligious the shepherd Psalm is pious, sentimental pap, whether in the first or the fortieth century — but for the faithful pilgrim of the spiritual life, whether he is a citizen of pastoral Judea or a denizen of some concrete jungle of the space age, it is an old familiar love song with power to soothe and stabilize and strengthen.

Here is no clever philosophical argument for belief in the existence of God; here no proof, to beleaguer the doubter and dispel his uncertainties. The Psalmist simply sings with joy the spontaneous testimony of his own soul’s experience, as the songbird at dawn oblivious of whether one or ten thousand have wakened to hear his anthem in praise of his creator.

“This is my experience,” he cries. “God has dealt with me as a tender shepherd all the days of my life and I must tell you about it. I never lacked for anything. I have no fear of want in the future.”

First of all, as a wise and faithful shepherd, God has supplied all his needs. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters; he restoreth my soul.”

As sheep need green pastures upon which to feed and still pools of clear, clean water to quench their thirst, and cool shady places in which to rest, and a shepherd proves his worth in supplying his flock with these necessities and regulating their proper rhythm of life, so the Psalmist sings the wondrous goodness of his God who has graciously supplied in season all his needs.

Do we sense a peculiar timeliness for our frantic days in the quaint phrase — “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures? Does the modern shepherd of the space age still know more about what his sheep need than they know about themselves? Are daylight and dark without significance for the life of man anymore, or is the day for labor and the night for rest? Was keeping the Sabbath day holy just a primitive superstition or in very truth a merciful “making one to lie down in green pastures” because man is so constructed as to need a Sabbath?

In the book, The Hell of It, an arch demon remarks on the amazing American habit of equating success with intemperance, and then gleefully tells of how he tempted a promising young contractor to do bigger and bigger things, “until he finally found himself in a level of operation that was simply over his head, beyond the capacity of a human being.” “The faster the pace,” continues the demon, “the more certain is man to become desensitized to all consideration, all subtlety, all kindness, and a host of other gentle arts. Our time studies show that when a human being is making more than 218 major decisions in one day, he has crossed a line that separates him from the human race. Doctors make splendid subjects. I urge you to help doctors to be popular, to have lots of patients, until they finally have more patients than they can attend.” And with what glee the demons must watch churches and ministers expand the size of congregations to the point where there are more members than can be ministered unto and more activities than one can attend.

But the poor sheep that is man needs more than green pastures and still waters to sustain him. Man has a soul which must be sustained. “He restoreth my soul.” “Soul-restoration is the special work of God. He alone knows that wonderful instrument, and He only can keep it in tune. ‘The inward man is renewed from day to day.’”

When I learned of the incurable blindness that was settling down upon my former teacher and dear friend, Lewis Sherrill, I hastily wrote expressing my concern and grief. Promptly he wrote back that though adjustments would have to be made, of course, in his methods of study and preparation, his work would go on essentially the same, and then he added characteristically, including in this tragedy and its triumph his wife who had so completely shared his life, and he hers: “Helen and I have experienced something of what the Psalmist must have meant when he said: ‘The Lord restoreth my soul.’”

The second basic function of the good shepherd is to lead his flock in right paths. “He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.” “Green pastures and still waters afford no permanent dwelling. The restored soul is restored for a purpose. If we become content with sustenance and restoration and want nothing else, God may have to drive us out. The renewed energy has to be used, always under His continued leading along straight paths, the highways, perhaps the dusty highways, of duty.”

“What God does in guiding His people aright is not done primarily to reward them, but it is the inevitable expression of His own character. ‘He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake,’ for the sake of His nature. He could not be true to His own nature and do otherwise. ‘For his name’s sake,’ is accordingly one of the most profoundly significant expressions in the entire Psalter.”

The third and historic characteristic function of the shepherd is to protect his sheep. In John’s parable of the good shepherd, Jesus says: “The good shepherd layeth down his life for the sheep . . . while the hireling fleeth because he is a hireling.” “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.”

What sort of assurance is this? Belief in immunity from all danger? No, rather assurance of deliverance from fear on dangerous missions undertaken in His name, carried out under the guidance of His command.

The Psalmist lists two strange comforters that allay his fears: “Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” As the sheep’s security from wolves and lions and serpents was symbolized by the shepherd’s sturdy stick which struck death quickly to any fierce attacker, so the man of faith finds comfort in the terrible retributive justice and destruction of God on evil doers. “Our God is a consuming fire” — said a New Testament saint with hopeful assurance. “There is terrible comfort in the ancient prophetic doctrine of the plumbline,” says Walter Marshall Horton. “When things are going to pieces in the economic, political, and social order, we can take heart that they are not going chaotically or meaninglessly to pieces. There is method in this destruction. The clearing ground may be for the coming of God’s kingdom.”

The other comforter is the shepherd’s staff. The Psalmist knows himself to be a dumb and rebellious sheep who needs a stern shepherd who will deal promptly with his waywardness. So a harsh or humiliating circumstance may be but the shepherd’s crook put forth to lift the wayward back to the paths of righteousness. “Whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth . . . think it not strange concerning the fiery trial that hath overtaken you.”

Let us not forget that this is a parable of relationships. There is not only God, Shepherd, Provider, Guide, Guard, Defender. There is also man, nothing more than a dumb creature. “Surely, this Psalm could not be a favorite among contemporary humanists. If man is compared to sheep, then he is naturally moved by gregarious and selfish drives, not by control of his instincts, mastery of his greed, and lucidity of reflection. In order to live at all he must rely on the grace of one infinitely greater and wiser than he, completely surrender his discontent to the light and will of God, have a sense of his own weakness, poverty and even destitution. In brief, he must live by trust in God alone, not by calculations or idolatry of self or others. He must consent to be lead in straight paths. That is the hard way. The Psalmist preached no other.”

Then, abruptly, the metaphor is changed. The shepherd fades and in its place God becomes the gracious host for a hunted Bedouin tribesman. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.” Shall one rebuke this man of simple faith for missing his metaphors? No, rather acknowledge with him the inadequacy of any and all figures of speech to catch and portray the manifold glory of God and the power of His immediacy to the man or woman who trusts Him. “God is the infinite name,” says Joseph Parker, “Shepherd, Father, Healer, Deliverer.”

Our Psalmist is an utter realist, though a poet. What is this life like? Why, it is a rough, grim, fierce struggle with quickly changing fortunes under shifting skies. Are joy and happiness possible? Why, yes, but as a feast is possible before the battle; as a banquet is prepared in the presence of one’s enemies. Just because God is there, the enemies do not fade into a mirage. They remain real and fierce, yet His favor spreads the feast; the cup of life’s goodness overflows in one’s hand because our bountiful host pours the flagon.

Christian experience has deepened the meaning of this figure. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies” became a favorite text in London at communion services during World War II when the bombing was at its peak, even in one instance when a part of the church was hit — while the service continued. In normal times it conveys the living thought of strengthening, set for our partaking at times when our private spiritual war is at its most bitter, suggesting that when we find the going hardest, we should at that very time repair to the Lord’s Table, and receive at His hand. Our enemies slink away and become poor things when we resolutely sit down with our host.

Therefore, in such a life, in such a world of conflict and strife and evil, with such a shepherd — Host, a Father-guide, beside us, we face the future with calm, untroubled eyes saying: “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.” Goodness and mercy shall pursue me — these twin angels at His providence shall track me down more relentlessly than my enemies. The hound of heaven is a tireless hunter. As His following people long ago discerned a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night to guide them, so our eyes are opened to behold that those who are for us are more than those that be against us, and the horses and chariots of the armies of the Lord are always encamped round about those that love and serve Him.