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
my whole life long.

The lilt of the music which accompanies this most-famous of psalms, can mislead us. We can easily be captured by the movement of the tune, as we lift our eyes to glimpse the conclusion, wrapped in hope.

The heart of the psalm is concerned with the troubles with which many of us are beset in the world around us. The struggles of our life, the dangers which cause fear, and those who seek our harm; all of these are present as the psalmist asserts their faith in God.  

Which is precisely why the psalms have been essential to faith and life for three millennia.

These are not the self-focused and simplistic words of someone who is dealing saccharine to those in need of substance; neither are they “Jesus is my boyfriend” theology which never pierces the surface of our lives, let alone people’s suffering.

The psalmist asserts that faith has us confronted by our enemies, walking in dark places, but then, equally asserts the reality of the presence of God in all these circumstances. Unlike so many modern worship songs, the centre of this psalm is not me, and how I feel, but God, and God’s accompaniment of me at every step.

The psalmist – and thus, we – finds their place because God is with us. This is each of us as sheep being shepherded, as disciples being led to life, throughout our life.

There’s a depleted version of faith, which indicates that this life is only valuable because eternity awaits us. What happens here does not carry any real weight. This is such an insubstantial understanding of our lives, of those we love, of those we serve.

Throughout history we have watched those who are called to be shepherds failing in their task, often deliberately.  At this moment we can see wolves, not even pretending at camouflage, rending those who are most vulnerable and disregarding those who cry out on their behalf. These are shepherds who betray their calling.

What will it mean for us to emulate the One who has shepherded us, and continues to do so? If we are truly disciples of this God, we will lift our voices (our rod and staff?) and risk ourselves to protect and comfort those who are most threatened, who spend their lives in dark valleys.

A trusted colleague reminds me that God’s goodness and mercy not only follow me, but the text has its origin in the word “pursue”; this is a God whose goodness and mercy seek us out consistently and for eternity.

Hope is the faith to assert that God is with us, even in the worst season, not watching from the ridge of the valley, but walking every step beside us, perhaps half a pace ahead.

In Christ, our hope is realised; this God, this hope, this life. God with us.