Midweek Musing- September 24, 2025

Midweek Musings Series: The 23^rd Psalm

Introduction to the Series

Over the next few weeks for our Midweek Musings, I will be doing a series that was born from a request someone made as a group of us were standing outside the church one Sunday after worship.

On this particular Sunday one of our readings in the service was the 23^rd Psalm. The individual noted they had heard and read that beloved Psalm many, many times yet realized that there were parts of it that they weren’t sure they fully understood. From there they wondered if I might do a series on it like I had done on other things like the Creeds and Confessions in the Book of Order and The Lord’s Prayer.

I appreciated this person’s honesty in saying that they are a person who continues to wrestle with the biblical texts. To me this is one of the most powerful statements of faith anyone can make. It is an admission that all of us should be continually seeking to grow in truth and spirit, and it mirrors the confession of the father who cried out to Jesus to heal his son in Mark’s gospel saying, “Lord I believe, help my unbelief.”

From that brief interaction this series was born.

So, for the next few weeks, we’ll take one section of the Psalm, linger with it, and discover how these ancient words continue to guide us.

And this excited me, and it seemed like a good idea, but I soon discovered a problem.

And the problem was this - as I began to spend time walking slowly through the beloved 23^rd Psalm, I realized there is so much that I didn’t know about this Psalm in particular and the Psalms in general. Yes, I’ve taken classes and read marvelous books, and maybe I once knew more than I recall—but memory is limited, and with each new 35-character password all of which must include letters, numbers, and hieroglyphics, some former knowledge slips away.

However, thank goodness to combat some of this, I have lots of bookshelves and numerous flash drives with articles and papers and documents saved on them that I can turn to when my brain fails.

Now, regarding this the 23^rd Psalm, I quickly realized it is one I have heard and said so often I often that I now rush through it —hearing the words but not truly dwelling in them, not deeply considering what they are saying.

Thus, looking back, I am very thankful for that simple request made on the porch of the church because it has invited me to return, linger, and listen anew to these powerful words of faith that continue to speak fresh hope to us even today.

To begin with I think it is important to share a few words about the Psalms themselves. The collection we call the Psalter comes from the Greek word psaltērion, meaning a stringed instrument like a harp or lyre.

However, over time the term came to mean “the book of songs.” It was basically the Hebrew people’s hymnbook and prayerbook. Of course, tradition attributes many psalms to David, the shepherd-king, but scholarship shows the Psalter as a rich compilation: yes, some psalms were written during David’s time (around 1000 BCE) though linguistic scholarship doubts many were written by him, suggesting instead that they came from those in his court.– think of them as being composed by his speech writing staff.

That said a great many of the Psalms were written during Israel’s exile in Babylon (6th century BCE), and then another large set crafted in the centuries that followed or the post-captivity period.

As Dr. Walter Brueggemann, whose book The Message of the Psalms resides on one of my bookshelves reminds us:

“The Psalms as a whole are a virtual anthology of expression addressed to God. Nothing is censored or suppressed. Everything properly belongs in this speech with God, which is a fundamental insight of faith.”

That means Psalm 23 is not just a comforting poem — it is part of a chorus of raw, unfiltered prayer echoed across generations.

Now with all that information in our minds, let us turn to verse one.

Part 1: The Lord is My Shepherd (Psalm 23:1)

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”

I don’t know about you, but I often live as though I don’t have enough—enough time, enough energy, enough knowledge, enough money, enough resources, and sometimes even enough faith. Sometimes the truth is I also wonder if I am enough.

And these fears lead to anxiety.

And I don’t believe I am alone in such fears, such anxiety. Indeed, these fears of everything being a scarce commodity and of not measuring up to other’s expectations are found among all socio-economic classes, races, education levels, and ages in our society.

However, such fear and anxiety are not new for our world. It is clear that even in Old Testament times such worries existed.

And it is into that anxiety; the psalmist speaks boldly: “I shall not want.” This is not denial of real needs but a confession of trust—that with God as shepherd, life is secure.

But why did the writer choose a shepherd? Shepherds were generally dirty, smelly, and certainly were not wealthy.

However, the shepherd image carried enormous weight for ancient hearers. As I mentioned, in Israel’s world, shepherds were not romantic figures but rugged ones—those who spent long days and nights in the wilderness, fending off wild animals, searching for water, guiding flocks to safety.

Thus, to call God a shepherd was to say: God does the hard, unglamorous work of watching over us.

This image also carried political resonance. Ancient kings were often called “shepherds of their people.” But Israel’s kings frequently failed at that task—exploiting rather than protecting. To call the Lord “my shepherd” was to declare that ultimate care and governance come not from earthly rulers but from God alone.

Old Testament Scholar Dr. James L. Mays highlights this when he writes in his book on the Psalms:

“The psalm begins with the bold metaphor of God as shepherd. This is no mere pastoral image but one of governance, protection, and provision. To confess ‘I shall not want’ is to say that life is secure, not because of circumstances, but because of the Shepherd’s care.”

Considering this I tried to come up with some modern analogies. I wondered if the psalmist were writing today, what image might they choose?

Perhaps if Psalm 23 were written today, it would be, “The Lord is my first responder.” Think of firefighters rushing toward danger, or paramedics stabilizing someone in crisis.

Or maybe it would be, “The Lord is my teacher,” patiently guiding, encouraging, and shaping a student’s growth.

What modern image you might think of?

It would certainly need to be both intimate and powerful—someone who shows up in the everyday and in emergencies, who protects, guides, and provides.

And yet, perhaps Eugene Peterson captures it best in his interpretation from The Message:

“God, my shepherd! I don’t need a thing.”

His version is simple, even startling. It takes the ancient metaphor and translates it into plain speech: life with God means sufficiency, safety, and rest.

Friends, when I read verse one, I hear a call to let go of my relentless striving and learn to trust that I am cared for. Scarcity will always shout loudly in our world, but sufficiency whispers: You already have enough. You are already enough. The Shepherd is with you.

And so, each time we come upon these words— “The Lord is my shepherd”—may they not only comfort us in moments of fear but also challenge us to live with deeper trust in God’s promises. May they invite us to release the grip of anxiety and rest in the truth that our Shepherd always provides what we truly need.

In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Alleluia Amen.

To conclude each musing in this series I am going to leave you with a question for you to consider and a prayer for you to use so we all continue to wrestle with the text even in the midst of our belief in the promises of God.

Reflection Question: Where do you feel most driven by scarcity—time, resources, relationships—and how might God’s shepherding presence reframe that place with sufficiency?

Prayer:

Shepherding God, thank you for walking beside me, guiding and protecting even when I am unaware. Teach me to rest in your provision. Quiet the voice of scarcity within me, and help me trust that in you, I lack nothing essential. Amen.