BESIDE GREEN PASTURES!

BESIDE GREEN PASTURES!

Ps 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.

         Adam Clarke, in his commentary, says that the green pastures actually may refer to cottages made of sod. These were places along the way where the shepherd would lodge and there would be pens; safe enclosures for the sheep. The idea here is that of safety and security. We need margins in our life; barriers that both restrict our wandering and protect us from intrusion for in these we feel safe. When our thoughts are troubled we remember that the shepherd himself is near in his own turf lodge. Rest comes easy.

         Mr. Barnes, in his notes, informs us that the word for “tender grass” indicates the new shoots which are sweet and not to mature grass ready for mowing. The idea is grass that is soft and cool where the flock can lie down fully satisfied. This speaks of full supply!

         This winter is acting more like spring with unseasonably warm temperatures. In the evening one can hear the tree frogs, awakened from winter’s hibernation, calling to each other. It carries me back to my mid-western childhood where we would run barefooted through the green grass and feel the tender shoots between our toes. We were too busy playing to know just how refreshing it was. Now I know that God is faithful to gently lead us through the rocky crags into pastures of soft green turf. My spirit cries out for a barefooted romp chasing fireflies.

He leadeth me, He leadeth me,
By His own hand He leadeth me;
His faithful follower I would be,
For by His hand He leadeth me.

Sometimes mid scenes of deepest gloom,
Sometimes where Eden's bowers bloom,
By waters still, over troubled sea,
Still 'tis His hand that leadeth me.

Dear Lord, my soul cries out for a brief rest. Lead me gently along today. AMEN