A posture that can withstand life's pressures

Cultivated from time in the pastures of Psalm 23

Think of this week as you and I going on a walk. Our path is a familiar one: Psalm 23. Questions of where we’re going and what we’ll need will get answered in the coming days.

But before all that gets answered, we have to choose one of three items the Psalm’s author, David, holds up before us:

  1. A crown

  2. A staff

  3. A tuft of grass

He doesn’t directly make this request. It’s his life that implores us to choose.

A crown

While this psalm of David doesn’t mention a crown, his background does. When we open the Bible to Psalm 23, we’re given some info before verse 1: "a psalm of David." What we don't find (but know to be true) is that David actually wrote many psalms as King David.

With that in mind, we don't have to think hard to imagine the kind of life to which David was accustomed. Kings have armies. Kings are in charge. Kings wield power, control, and authority. When we think of kings, they aren't submitting to others...they're being submitted to.

If we’re going on a walk, it’s tempting to wear a crown, isn’t it? To wear a crown is to say to the world, “I am my own ruler.”

But David didn't write that.

A staff

Long before David ever wore a king’s crown, he held a shepherd’s staff. For David, the shepherding of his younger years would’ve required proficiency in many tasks:

  • Keeping track of every single sheep. And they were certainly prone to wander.

  • Noticing the need for – and then finding – food, water, and spots to rest when needed.

  • Distinguishing the various noises and behaviors of the sheep. Is that pain? Hunger? Griping? Bathroom break?

  • Spotting external threats to the sheep, and maneuvering to protect the flock. Without a shepherd, sheep become lamb chops for the likes of lions and bears.

Carrying out tasks like these over time could certainly bolster one’s sense of proficiency – and sufficiency – to take care of themselves and others. Some might select this for our walk, as if to say, “I am my shepherd.”

But David didn't write that either.

A tuft of grass

Attractive as the first two items are, this one is...well...not so much. To always have grass in our view is to be reminded that we don't see everything. We can't see the weather. We can't see where we're going. We can't even see those around us very clearly, let alone anything beyond that proximity.

In other words, this is the view a sheep has. All a sheep can really see is what's in front of it at the moment. It’s with a tuft of grass in view that David begins the walk through Psalm 23:

“The Lord is my shepherd…”

King David

Why would a man who feasts in a palace, and has diligently watched over the fields, take on the posture of one that grazes in the grass?

Perhaps it’s because always having a tuft of grass in our view is a reminder that we aren’t king, or our own shepherd.

Instead, we depend on a Shepherd. He's a shepherd who goes about his tasks with our well-being in mind, and better than we could ever go about them. To keep a tuft of grass in view is to trust that this shepherd actually cares for us...perhaps even loves us.

So, we're invited to choose our posture as we begin to walk Psalm 23 together.

A crown? A staff? Or a tuft of grass?

Our answer to that has enormous implications for the rest of the walk.

Until tomorrow,

Nathan