The Lord is my Shepherd

Acts 4:5-12             Psalm 23      1 John 3:16-24      John 10:11-18

Every month I visit the local elderly care homes to take communion services. Every month there are women and men in the late stages of dementia who no longer know their own children but can sing the 23^rd Psalm, without missing a beat.

Last week, my family received the devastating news that a close family friend had gone to work, like any other day, but collapsed and died before the ambulance could reach her. She was not yet 50 and left behind 3 children. The day before she died, she posted an image of these words from the 23^rd Psalm on her social media.

Yesterday I received a call from a daughter whose father is very sick and isn’t expected to recover. When I sat beside his bed I began reciting the words I have read at bedsides in the final hours of life, many times before. As I said ‘the Lord is my shepherd’ his eyes open wide and he rushed to say ‘I shall not want’ and he beamed at me and said, ‘I have always been looked after’ as he pointed upwards.

Why do these words run so deep? Why do they stay so long in the heart and mind. What is it they provide that we – the world – must so deeply need? And why does Jesus echo them so clearly in this morning’s gospel reading?

Let’s reflect on what these words promise…

The lord is my shepherd, I shall not want:

that speaks of relationship, intimacy, and provision

He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters…:

that is rest and refreshment

He guides me in the paths of righteousness, for his name’s sake:

that is guidance and purpose

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for you are with me; Your rod and staff they comfort me:

that is a promise of safety, protection, companionship, comfort

You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me:

abundance, a sign that God is our supporter

You have anointed my head with oil and my cup shall be full:

provision, and certain safety

Surely goodness and loving mercy will follow me all the days of my life:

this speaks of blessing

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord, forever:

and we get all this, for ever, as pure gift. Grace.  

And I’ve been wondering why this is so deeply known. Is it because it sums up all that God promises to us and for us and because that fills the deepest need in each of us?

Yes, it is comforting. It gives us hope. But this sermon has been so difficult to pin down because these readings have come this week, when things have felt tough…

This week, in this country, a priest at a church named The Good Shepherd was stabbed whilst preaching to his people and we wonder what would have happened if we didn’t have such tough gun laws.

This week, where I travelled to the high court with Ned, fearful he would be returned to detention. We listened to the most influential legal minds in Australia talk about policies and laws with no reference to the people they affected, nor the impact their decisions would have on them. I heard people justify indefinite detention, like it was a good idea for all concerned; like it wasn’t stealing whole eras of life and like ‘third country options’ were an actual possibility – like people need to be found a place that is safe from Australian policies – that is safer than here – and that that was the solution to our bulging detention centres. I heard arguments that said AZC20 can stay out of detention – but another 200 people must remain in. And statements justifying those hideous places as ‘detention, but not punitive’.

This week, it would have been the perfect time to have a holy shepherd providing a physical block – an actual barrier – between the vulnerability and evil of one human against another, rather than feeling like the wolves are drawing near.

And I know and love these promises from Psalm 23 and John 10. And I have relied on them time after time, and will do again, but the words that ring truest in this week are these from the epistle…

‘How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother and sister in need and yet refuses help? Little children, let us love, not in word or speech but in truth and action.’

Someone has the world’s good…sees a brother and sister in need…and refuses help.

Let us love not in word but action.

When we read that against those deep-seated promises of the Shepherd, we might hear the challenge that there are times we need to be that physical presence – the one that lays down ones own life to bring the comfort, protection, safety, hope and blessing that others are crying out for.

The world needs the promise of the Good Shepherd.

Sometimes that comes in singing and reciting those precious ancient words that spring from the heart and emerge from the lips of the dying. And sometimes those promises need to grow skin and legs and become action.

We have heard and known the promises of our Good Shepherd. We have walked beside the still waters and through the valley of the shadow of death and been anointed and comforted and fed, and known that every step is accompanied by goodness and mercy.  We know it to be true. And we are also living in a world where life doesn’t always show it to be true.

And when we come up against that, it is our job to shepherd, just as we have been shepherded – to remain even when the wolves are drawing near – to count the cost and help anyway – to lay down our lives and to love, not in words or speech but in truth and action. We can’t rely on ancient hymns, or even scripture alone to teach these truths we have given our lives over to. Sometimes we need to be the story as well as tell it.

May we – who have the world’s goods, see a brother or sister in need – never refuse help. And may we love, not in word or speech but in truth and action. Amen.