Lie Down

A Reflection on the Psalm for Sunday, April 26th, 2026:
Fourth Sunday of Easter

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Psalm 23

R. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
or 
R. Alleluia!

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. 

R. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
or 
R. Alleluia!

He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff — they comfort me. 

R. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
or 
R. Alleluia!

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 

R. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
or 
R. Alleluia!

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long. 

R. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
or 
R. Alleluia!

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

Years ago, I took a trip to Gros Morne National Park in Newfoundland. My favourite and most memorable hike there was along the Green Gardens trail. This trail progresses from the orange, rugged, and barren tablelands to the contrasting green, soft, and lush headlands. From atop the headlands is a panoramic view of the palisades that guard the soft pastures from the harsh winds and waves of the Gulf of St. Lawrence. As I cleared the wooded portion of the trail, breaking into the sharp, cool winds of the clifftop pasture, there were a dozen or more plump, fluffy sheep quietly grazing to their hearts’ content. Right there. Randomly. In the middle of nowhere. I remember this moment distinctly, because in the instant when my eyes caught this view, my heart burst open with joy. I took a deep breath in, gazed in awe and wonder at the sight before me, and then found myself an untouched tuft of wheatgrass, took off my pack, and lay down – soaking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the peace-drenched beauty surrounding me. I wanted to stay there forever.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures…

This is the disposition Psalm 23 calls me to. It is the effect a relationship with God can have on my heart if I am faithful to Him. And faithfulness asks me to lie down in order to fully absorb the peace-drenched, restorative beauty I have ready access to when my heart lies next to His. 

Lying down is an act of submission. If you have a dog or have observed their behaviour, you know that they will lie down on their backs or “submit” when they don’t want to compete for alpha status with an approaching animal. 

Lying down is an act of vulnerability. In the lying posture, I am unable to quickly escape. All of my life-sustaining members are exposed; those that control my mind, my breath, my blood, my life. 

Lying down is an act of rest. I can release myself from the responsibilities of the moment, allowing them to float into my Father’s capable hands.

When I lie down at the Lord’s command, what I am saying is that I profess Him as the Alpha. The Omega. I submit to Him as the one who sustains my life. And in doing this, I can breathe more deeply, connect more fully, see more clearly, and regulate more swiftly.

Why, then, is this such a foreign and fearful posture for me? He does not make me lie down in a rubbish heap or under military fire. The place where He invites me to is lush, peaceful, and green. A pasture is a place of provision, of bounty. It is where grazing sheep go for safety and nourishment – boundless nourishment. 

When I feel fearful, Lord, make me lie down.
When I am lonely, Lord, make me lie down.
When it seems this life is drenched in darkness, Lord, make me lie down.

Let my heart confidently cry out:
Jehovah Jireh! You, Lord, will provide.




Lori MacDonald

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