Our beautiful baptismal font at Cameron Presbyterian Church. |
April 17, 2016 - Fourth Sunday of Easter
Psalm 23
The
Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to
lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my
soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 Yea, though I
walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou
art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a
table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with
oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness
and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the
house of the Lord for ever.
Sermon: “A Watering Place”
Psalm 23 is probably the most
memorized and beloved passage in all of scripture. Because of this, we need to shake the cobwebs
off of our reading and studying of it, and hear it with fresh ears. To do this, I’ve made my own rough
translation from the original Hebrew.
See if you don’t hear something new or surprising!
Psalm
23 (my rough translation)
Yahweh
shepherds me, I shall not be lacking.
He
stretches me out in grassy meadows;
he
leads me to a watering place near resting waters;
he
returns my living
being, life, self, person, desire, passion, appetite and emotions to me.
He
leads me in right tracks
for his name’s intent.
Yea
though I go through the death-like, shadowed valley,
I
fear no evil,
distress, misery, injury or calamity;
for
you are with me;
your
rod and your staff, they console me.
You
set a table facing those hostile to me.
you
anoint my head with oil;
my
cup is abundant and saturated.
Surely
goodness, happiness and loving kindness shall pursue and chase me
all the
days of my life,
and
I shall sit and remain in the house of Yahweh forever.
It’s even more beautiful in
the original language, isn’t it?
We’re not just led by still
waters; we’re led to a watering place, where waters and we ourselves rest. That’s why we baptize Easton today – not
because his parents decided upon it, or because his grandparents and other
family are connected here – but because God is leading him, before he even
needs to understand why, to a watering place.
God doesn’t just restore our
soul, in our sometimes-narrow Western idea of the soul. God returns the appetite to one for whom food
holds no joy. God returns personhood to
one who feels worthless. God returns
passion and desire to people who don’t even make eye contact anymore. God returns emotions to a teenager who feels
their emotions are uncontrollable and wild.
When we find ourselves in a
death-dark valley of shadows, where every tiny thing seems like a threat, we do
not have to fear distress, misery, injury, calamity or any other kind of
evil. This is not because there is nothing
to fear, oh goodness, there is an awful lot to fear. This is because even in that death-dark
valley, our Shepherd never, ever, leaves our side.
A table is set for us, with
red-checkered napkins and azaleas in the center, and sweet tea to last for
days. But our dinner companions are not
who we’d expect. God intentionally
places us facing those who are hostile to us (probably because God knows that
eating together might just be the most healing act there is).
Just as we start to get
squirmy and uncomfortable at that reconciling table, God anoints us with oil,
blessing us with ridiculous extravagance.
It’s hard not to laugh with oil dripping down into your lap!
The cup of our life is
completely saturated with the goodness of God, and just when we think there
can’t possibly be any more left, our Shepherd’s loving-kindness chases us. Not follows, chases, pursues us, every single day of our life. I love this persistence. Because you don’t need me to tell you that
sometimes kindness and happiness seem like fleeting things.
Sometimes, tragedy happens,
illness happens, violence happens. But
even that does not stop the loving kindness of God. It doggedly chases us, with the determination
of a child playing catch, and does not relent until our load is a little
lighter to bear, until the world seems a more joyful place.
And then, we go to the most
joyful place of all, the house of God. Revelation gives us a sneak preview of
what that heavenly home will look like.
The most honored guests will be joy, music and worship. Some things will
be intentionally left off the guest list: hunger, thirst, scorching heat,
tears. These won’t be invited. And you know what? We won’t even miss them. We will be sheltered by the Lamb who is also
the Good Shepherd, and it will be one
heaven of a party.
It’s no wonder Psalm 23
sounds like such good news to us. It’s
no wonder it’s our favorite passage.
It’s no wonder we read it today, on this day when we welcome Easton into
the family of the Church universal, where all the things that divide us wash
away in waters of grace. Here, we tell
Easton and the world that there is a Good Shepherd who cares for him. We tell him that this Shepherd chooses him
first, starting his journey of faith at resting waters, and sustaining him when
that journey means facing bullies or going through shadowed valleys of
self-doubt.
We tell him that he will live
every moment of his life in God’s care, a care made evident in Christian
community, and then he will live every moment of the life to come in the
presence of the God who has known him all along.
Of course, Easton won’t be
told these things until much later, and he will not understand what happens to
him today. But that doesn’t matter one
bit – for we don’t understand our parents’ love as infants, we just know we
need it. And, if we’re really honest
with ourselves, we grown-ups don’t understand the gracious love of God, a love
that chooses us first, any better now than we did as children. Some
things can’t be explained – they can only be experienced.
So, let us all bear witness
to that experience today, as we gather with Easton and his family at a watering
place of resting waters. And maybe, just
maybe, something of our own baptism so very long ago will well up within us, gushing
forth, overflowing, as we realize that we belong to a community we did not
create, we belong to a God who chose us first, and we belong to a life that
will never end.
Thanks be to God! Amen.