Psalm 23 and the Apocalypse
Of all the terms being thrown around to describe this time, one of the most common has been “apocalyptic.” The Guardian newspaper recently carried a list of post-apocalyptic novels including one of my favorite pandemic reads: Station Eleven. And some of the most streamed movies of recent days have titles such as Contagion.
In the ways it is used in the popular culture and media, apocalyptic means the end of the world or at least of civilization, but that is far from the biblical sense.
Apocalypse, in scripture, means an unveiling or uncovering. It is a way of moving into a different perspective—a heavenly view. Apocalypse isn’t the time when the world ends suddenly, but instead is the moment when the reality of what is lasting, what is really good and valuable, is set in stark contrast to all of the illusions of the moment.
Our scriptures for today might not be considered “apocalyptic” in the proper sense, but on a closer look all of them are working in the apocalyptic mode. In each we are offered a heavenly view of the realities among people. In each we are invited into a shift of perspective from the earthly to the heavenly. But of all the scriptures this morning, the one whose apocalyptic message is most critical for us today is the 23rd Psalm.
Most of us wouldn’t think of the 23rd Psalm as an apocalyptic passage. It is our most familiar psalm, one of the most known and cherished parts of scripture, and for good reason. Its words are deeply comforting, its images deep and life giving. But at the Psalm’s heart is a message meant to bring perspective, God’s revelation, to a people in crisis. This ancient song is meant to bring a message so profound and powerful that when fully encountered it will change the very way we live.
Of course, too often people do not accept the psalm in all of its radical implications. Like much of scripture, we are glad to take the comfort it offers but unwilling to embrace the change it calls for. As the philosopher Dallas Willard once quipped, “’The Lord is my shepherd,’ is a sentiment carved on tombstones more often than a reality written in lives.” And yet it is in times like these, times of great uncertainty and danger, that we are invited to see with the Psalmist that God is with us, that God is our abiding caretaker in the midst of our trouble and we should live as though that is true. Our task is to let God be our shepherd, to move our wills into alignment with God’s will. The whole of psalm 23 is a working out of what a life lived in submission to the care of the Good Shepherd looks like.
There is much to say about this Psalm and many books have been written exploring its depths. It is one of those texts to memorize and recite and ponder with time. But today I would like to offer you a way of living into the reality of the Good Shepherd that I learned from my wife Emily.
As we were having our morning coffee recently, we talked about the scriptures for this Sunday and Emily shared a prayer that she offers for our family daily. She calls it the three Ps. The first is for God’s perspective. She prays that we would come to see from God’s perspective rather than the fleeting concerns of this moment. This is what it means to say the “Lord is my shepherd.” The Shepherd is the one who sees the whole, who understands the right paths, and how to best navigate the dangers of the world. It is important, as we live as his sheep, that we learn to see as he sees, value as he values, live as he would live if he were us.
The second P of Emily’s prayer is for God’s presence. It is not only important to see as the Shepherd sees, but also to experience the Shepherd’s presence. As we know from our own experience, it is possible to feel that someone is with us even if we do not see them. It is critical for us as people of faith to be present to God and to learn to recognize his abiding presence with us, even in the darkest valleys we travel through—the uncertain places where the future looks dangerous, where suffering and loss seem inevitable. God our Good Shepherd is with us no matter what.
The third and final P is peace. This is the reality we experience when we live with God’s perspective and presence. To lie down in green pastures means, as the poet Wendell Berry has put it, that we can “be joyful though [we] have considered all the facts.” In God’s peace, we can lie down and sleep well because we trust that God will take care of us. This does not mean that we won’t suffer, that we won’t experience loss. As finite creatures, this is part of our reality. What God’s abiding goodness means is that whatever comes our way God will be there to wrap us in his peace and love—a love that can transcend any fear, a love that can reach even into the depths of the grave.
Perspective, presence, and peace--this should become our prayer in this time. May we enter this apocalyptic moment, learning to see as God sees with the perspective of the Good Shepherd who is full of love and mercy. So seeing, let us experience God’s presence and embrace this time of stillness, silence, and solitude, so that we can be with God in return. From all of this, may we experience God’s full and abiding shalom—the peace that surpasses all understanding. This peace is the fullness of abundance and wellbeing, not the sort that comes from knowing what tomorrow holds and the assurance of full bank accounts, but instead an abiding trust in a person full of goodness and power in whose loving care we put our faith.
We are now in a time of unveiling. All of our illusions of control have been brought up short. The institutions we thought were so solid have suddenly proven shaky. The future we imagined for ourselves has become a long wait and see. This is an opportunity to see that nothing was ever certain, none of it would last forever. The end of our civilization may not be now, but it will be someday, sometime. So what will last, what is the truth that is eternal beneath the noise of our worry and distraction, the frenetic news that cannot answer the questions that really burn in our hearts?
“Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever,” says the Psalmist.
God’s goodness and mercy, God’s presence and peace and all the abundant life that spills from them--that is what lasts, that is what is eternal. So why waste our time in worry? Why spend our hours reading the prognostications of a future no one can know? We have the chance right now to begin to live with God as our shepherd. We have the chance right now to discover what it means to not be in want. That, to me, sounds like an adventure worth having, an apocalypse to embrace. Amen.