The Labouring Shepherd

A Reflection on the Psalm for March 22nd, 2020:
Fourth Sunday of Lent

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Psalm 23

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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Pause. Pray.

And then read more...

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I was born in Newfoundland. Livestock farming is not a big thing in Newfoundland. Even if it were, I still wouldn’t know much about it, given that I grew up right in the heart of the capital city. My grandfather’s family raised horses, but they were for racing, not farming. I must have been five years old before I saw my first goat, and nearly thirty years old before I had much occasion to see sheep. At that time my husband and I were living in Scotland, where we encountered many sheep—obstructing hiking paths, blocking up roadways, bleating loudly in through our car windows. I have to admit I had no idea how dirty a sheep’s wool was until I was offered a close-up view – hay, unidentifiable vegetable matter, and dung tags on all these sheep. Honestly, just remembering it makes me laugh because it was such a contrast to my city-girl view of sheep – and shepherds too.


This Sunday we will pray with Psalm 23, The Lord Is My Shepherd. I don’t really mind admitting that I always imagined the shepherd in this piece serenely strolling along in his long, clean robes, climbing easily up lush mountainsides with the aid of his crook, which he otherwise swung jauntily like a walking stick. My eye-opening experience with Scottish sheep suggested that this idyllic vision was probably way off base as well, so I decided to read up on shepherds. This is how I came to find W. Phillip Keller’s book A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23. Keller himself was a shepherd before becoming a pastor, so he has a uniquely informative view on both sheep and psalms. I have always dearly loved Psalm 23, but Keller’s insight has made me love it even more. I’d like to share with you some of what I learned.


The psalmist David – also a former shepherd – says that because the Lord is his shepherd, he "shall not want". Keller suggests that the word “want” implies utter contentment, not craving or desiring anything other than that which the shepherd provides. Sheep look to the shepherd for everything. When their eyes are on their master they are not on those around them. They don’t butt the younger sheep or abuse the weaker ones.


That made me wonder: if I am unsettled, striving for other things – popularity, more money than I really need, the admiration of others –  I might want to examine my loyalties. Jesus says you cannot serve two masters. In my daily life as a follower of the Shepherd, am I utterly content? Are my eyes on the Shepherd or on some other master?


Keller also says a good shepherd spares no pains for the welfare of the sheep. His labour is hard and constant. In arid countries, a shepherd does not simply stumble upon “green pastures” as spoken of in the psalm. He cultivates them by digging out roots and rocks, ploughing, irrigating and planting legumes and grains that will grow into good forage for the flocks. The “still waters” also require effort. The shepherd will often rise early so the sheep can feed on the dew-covered grass before the sun comes up. Alternatively, he digs a cistern and leads his sheep into it, where he fills trough after trough of clean water for them.

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For me, His sheep, Christ takes the dusty arid soil, the contaminated pools in my life, and transforms them into green pastures and still quiet waters for the sake of me, although I am so very unworthy. Not only do I want for nothing, my cup is full to overflowing. Like the best of shepherds, He spared no pain in caring for me.




Donna Davis

Photo by Biegun Wschodni on Unsplash