The Shepherd in the Valley: What This Changes Between Us

The foyer still has two versions of the same shepherd sentence. Last month this church said we walk with them after a named valley went public between a household that still has to live there and a row that already printed Yahweh is my shepherd. One person received that sentence as cover. The chairs around them received a quieter version by Tuesday: keep the valley indoor, because nobody has to sit next to it.

A neighbor two seats over is deciding whether this church can occupy a valley together without keeping an unofficial private-valley rule between them, or whether one indoor closed hour writes the public life the rest of you have to live under.

This is a sermon about what Psalm 23 changes between you. If you preach it as a map of anyone's private fear, you will lie. If you preach it as a community pep talk that never lets a valley occupy air a second chair can still hear, you will lie in a different direction. Preach it as shepherd poetry that names a God who stays present in the valley, and you give this church a courage that does not wait for the valley to empty.

Text

Hear Psalm 23, from the World English Bible: "Yahweh is my shepherd; I shall lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He guides me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.

Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.

You anoint my head with oil. My cup runs over. Surely goodness and loving kindness shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in Yahweh’s house forever." (Psalm 23:1-6, WEB) This is shepherd poetry. It is not a diagram of your unfinished grief. Application comes after that fact, from the God who is present in the valley.