Green Pastures and Still Waters (Psalm 23)

 Sermon: “Green Pastures & Still Waters”

Psalm 23 is one of the lectionary scriptures for today; and since today is also the Sunday before Earth Day, my attention was drawn to the reference in the psalm to green pastures and still waters. It’s an image of peace and calm and assurance, and it comes from the beauty of creation.

There is so much beauty in creation, and so much that is awe-inspiring…

➤Two weeks ago, when Camp Walter Scott invited Disciples in our region to go down there and view the total solar eclipse, a small group of us from First Christian Church did just that. We joined with about 100 others, most of us on the meadow, and watched as the moon passed in front of the sun, completely blocking its light and warmth. At that moment, we couldn’t help but feel a particular connection to God’s created universe.

I was watching the eclipse, but I was also watching the amazement on the faces of those around me. Even though we all knew exactly what to expect, actually experiencing the moon’s shadow passing over us, plunging us into complete darkness for a few minutes, touched many of us on an emotional, spiritual level that no description can adequately convey. 

It reminded me of the middle school boy I mentioned in a previous sermon, who went to church camp for the first time and couldn’t believe how many stars he could see, away from the city lights. All he could say was, “Man! Think of all those kids back home in the city who have never seen this!”

➤And I remember last year at science camp at Catalina Island, watching the kids stand on the rock jetty, exploring tide pools, utterly fascinated by the crabs and eels and squid and anemones and other creatures they were able to see there. 

There was this one kid who, after everyone had left, stayed out on the rocks, just watching the crabs, watching how they move, how they hide and emerge out of the rocky crevasses; He took such great delight in watching these crabs, and he would have stayed there all afternoon, I think, except that the tide was coming in, and the waves would soon be crashing over him if he didn’t retreat back to higher ground.

It all makes even a ten or eleven year old child philosophical, pondering our role in the universe. What part do humans play in all this? 

We are not separate from creation. We are part of it. Like every other part of creation, we are all connected. The same God who made the stars and the planets and the creatures of the sea, also made you and me. The same God who set in motion the sun and moon, and the tides, breathes life into you and me.

In Psalm 8, there is a verse in which someone is praying to God, and is blown away by all this. That person says to God: “When I look up at your skies, at what your fingers made—the moon and the stars that you set firmly in place—what are human beings that you think about them; what are human beings that you pay attention to them?”

Many writers of scripture are aware of this connection to creation… like the one who wrote Psalm 23, who presented that image of  green pastures and still waters, gently flowing waters, good for drinking, for quenching the thirst of all God’s creatures.

And in Psalm 23, with its reference to God as our shepherd, we have an image of humanity and nature working together: caring for sheep, animals of God’s creation, in a way that benefits both humans and animals.

It reminds me of the many ways different species of plants and animals do, in fact, work together for their mutual benefit. 

I know that the science of evolution emphasizes the competition and the survival of the fittest, and that is a part of what is true about God’s creation. But often overlooked are the ways that different species actually cooperate rather than compete.

➤Not long ago I was listening to a podcast that talked about traditional knowledge of the Tlingit people in the Pacific Northwest. The Tlingit were aware that, as salmon migrate up the rivers, bears and wolves would grab salmon out of the river and carry them into the forest to eat them… The thing is, bears and wolves aren’t always tidy when they eat; they don’t dab their mouths with a napkin; they’re kind of messy… And some of the bones and some little pieces of the fish fall into the soil…

And those salmon remains decay; and as they do, nutrients from the salmon make their way into the soil; they become fertilizer for the trees… 

As a result, those trees grow bigger, and they provide more shade. That shade, in turn, keeps the sun off of the stream, and helps keep the water in the streams colder and more habitable for the salmon, helping the salmon to thrive. 

In this way, the wolves and the bears, and the salmon, and the trees, and the streams, all work together to create a healthier environment, an environment where life can flourish.

And the Tlingit incorporated knowledge like this into their own fishing practices, working to maintain the balance, to preserve the forest, to not overharvest the salmon,... so that the life of the ecosystem would continue to thrive for many generations to come. 

When I first heard this, I was struck by the beauty. You know that feeling you get when you behold true beauty? Your attention becomes captivated, your emotions swell? (It’s like the delight of that kid looking at the crabs.) That’s what I was feeling, listening to this podcast, how the salmon and wolves and  bears and trees and streams all worked together to create and sustain a healthy environment, and how the Tlingit recognized these connections, and incorporated that wisdom into their own practices, for the benefit of all, for the benefit of creation.

It’s humans “joining with all nature in manifold witness to God's great faithfulness, mercy, and love…”

When we work with creation like this, we are able to maintain a world filled with green, healthy pastures, and clear, gently-flowing, life-giving waters.

Unfortunately, that wisdom and beauty are lost on a great many people today. We have not honored the balance that exists, and must be maintained, between humans, plants, and animals, and the earth. We have taken for granted the pastures and the streams; we’ve tried to profit off of them, exploiting natural resources for our own selfish gain; and, as a result, all of creation is suffering.

Everything we have comes from the earth. These wooden pews and wooden pulpit were once part of a forest of trees. I, for one, am grateful for these pews, this pulpit, this building with these magnificent wooden beams and trusses…I’m not saying we shouldn’t ever use natural resources like wood…

But I once heard someone say that if you’re going to cut down a tree, what you use that tree for should be just as magnificent as the tree itself. 

That’s a hard thing to achieve, for what could be more magnificent than a tree? Scientists don’t even understand all the mysteries and wonders of a tree or a forest, how trees communicate with each other, how parent trees nurture younger offspring, how trees work together in masting their fruit, all of them holding back on fruit or nut production for a year or several years, then all, somehow, agreeing that this is the year that they will all produce an abundance of fruit…how trees create oxygen, and clean the water, and prevent floods, and so much more…

I don’t know that we can ever produce anything as magnificent as that.

But we can take a moment to be grateful for the wood, the paper, the oxygen, the clean water, and for everything else we get from trees. 

Is it any wonder that trees feature prominently in several scripture passages, like the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in the garden of Eden; or the sacred oaks at Mamre; or the mighty Cedars of Lebanon…

We can be grateful, and not take such things for granted; and in that gratitude, we can vow to not waste, to not use more than we need, and to honor the incredible wonder and glory of God’s creation.

And this is true not only for trees, but for everything else; every precious resource of God’s creation.

Unfortunately, the wisdom of indigenous peoples like the Tlingit is all but lost today. In our shortsightedness, we take what we want, what can bring us the most profit, today, without concerning ourselves about what will be left for future generations. Our practices do not honor creation; our way of living does not honor the Creator.

➤But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my study of scripture, it’s that God is always calling us to a new way. A “right path,” to use the language of Psalm 23. The opportunity is always present to break free from the cycle of overconsumption, exploitation, and destruction. 

I took this picture at our southern California Disciples camp some years ago… At church camp, youth and adults learn to break free from destructive ways of living, and experience that new, right way… At Camp Walter Scott in particular, Creation Care is an important part of what goes on there.

And we learn about following that new, right path here at church, as well… In our Wednesday small group, we recently read about Abraham and Moses, who both broke from the destructive systemic patterns of their day to follow a right path, a new way. 

It’s the way envisioned by Isaiah: a way of cooperation among all creatures. The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.

…They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.

It’s the way of living Jesus calls us to; that radical new way of living based on love, a way of living exemplified with compassion for all people and all of creation.

Because if we exploit, destroy, or use up creation for our own selfish gain, that hurts other people. And love does no harm to a fellow human being.

That’s why Isaiah pronounces doom on those who join house to house, who add field to field, until there is room for no one but you…

And it’s why Ezekiel says: “Is it not enough for you to feed on the good pasture, but you must tread down with your feet the rest of your pasture? When you drink of clear water, must you foul the rest with your feet? And must my sheep eat what you have trodden with your feet, and drink what you have fouled with your feet?”

Green pastures and clean, gently flowing streams of water are issues of justice, issues that God calls us to take seriously and care about very much. 

The good news is that we have all the technology we need, we have the ability. There are plenty of resources for all, if we care for them and are wise about their use.

However, we are stuck in a scarcity mindset when it comes to creation. We think there won’t be enough, that there isn’t enough, so we have to accumulate more than we need before it all runs out.

But if we understand that our God is a God of abundance, and that if we take just what we need, then we’ll never run out.

It’s like the manna in the wilderness—God told Moses to have the people gather just enough for each day. If they gathered more than they needed, the extra that they gathered would spoil. But if they took just what they needed, they would never run out. 

It’s also like how the sap in the maple trees started to run at the end of winter, when all other food sources have been depleted. For squirrels, when their cache of nuts is depleted, they can go up a maple tree, gnaw on a branch, and get enough nourishment from the now-flowing sap to last until other forms of food start appearing. 

Some indigenous people also relied on the maple trees to provide for them when all other food sources were gone, until spring brought the return of God’s abundance. In this way, nature always provides for us, but we have to honor nature in return. 

We have all the abundance we need. We just need to tap into that holy wisdom about how to use it. 

And it begins with awe and wonder. That’s why I get so happy when someone takes delight in the moon passing in front of the sun, or in seeing the colors of the flowers and blossoms change from day to day, or how a crab moves across the rock, or how a thunderstorm moves across the prairie, or really, anything else that captures your attention and makes you marvel at the magnificence of God’s creation.

Take some time to notice each little flower that opens, each little bird that sings; their glowing colors, their tiny wings; all things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things wise and wonderful; in love, God made them all.

Green Pastures and Still Waters (Psalm 23)

 The other day was Earth Day. The first Earth Day was in 1970; Democratic Senator Gaylord Nelson saw the devastation caused by a massive oil spill in the ocean near Santa Barbara, and he convinced Republican Congressman Peter McCloskey to join him in chairing an event that would teach and inspire people throughout the United States to care for the earth.

Earth Day has been teaching & inspiring us ever since.

We’ve gotten better at keeping the Earth’s waters clean; but we still have a long way to go.

About two weeks ago I was substitute teaching a high school science class, and part of the lesson plan included me showing the students a video about how important water is to life. At one point, the person in the video said that water is so essential to any form of life, that when scientists search other planets in our galaxy for signs of life, the first thing they look for is water. Because if the planet has no water, then the assumption is that it cannot have life.

And I thought, Wow! We sure do take water for granted. Don’t we? We forget how precious water is. How essential. 

Water is life. Without water, there would be no life. And life is the most precious gift we have. 

How fortunate we are that we live in a place where the infrastructure is such that safe, clean drinking water is brought directly into our homes, and all we have to do is turn on the faucet.

Not everyone is so fortunate. In that same video, it talked about how scientists are constantly at work, trying to devise efficient, inexpensive ways to treat water in parts of the world where clean drinking water is hard to come by; because in many places, the water is not safe to drink. In many places, the water is polluted. In many places, the supply of fresh, clean water is unreliable, or disappearing due to climate change.

In the Bible, we get a glimpse at the importance of water. Wells were important, and feature prominently in a number of Bible stories. And water - because it is so essential to life - is also an important metaphorical symbol in scripture.

Jesus once said that what he has to offer is “living water” for those who are thirsty. The metaphor works, because those to whom Jesus spoke understood how precious and miraculous and life-giving water is.

And in Psalm 23, the shepherd leads the sheep to green pastures and still waters - water that is good to drink; water that provides life, water that even those green pastures depend on. Without water, those pastures wouldn’t be green.

A few days after I showed that science video, I accepted two substitute teaching assignments in Avalon, on Catalina Island. The first was a week and a half ago, and the most recent was just this past Friday.

These were my first trips to Catalina to teach in-person since the start of the pandemic. 

On the boat ride over, I always try to get a seat by the window. You never know what you might see. On Friday, as the boat was leaving Catalina and starting the journey back to Long Beach, I saw a sea lion relaxing on the surface of the water. Other times I've seen dolphins swimming alongside the boat.

The sea lions and dolphins are reminders that the oceans themselves are full of life. And there’s so much more, below the surface, that I can’t see...

The giant exhibit that greets you at the end of the main hall of the Aquarium of the Pacific is meant to simulate the Blue Cavern State Marine Conservation Area, just off Catalina’s northern shore. For people like me who aren’t really into scuba diving, that exhibit is a great way to glimpse the incredible display of life in the ocean.

However, on these two most recent trips to Catalina, I wasn’t just thinking about the video I had shown my students, about the importance of water to life; and I wasn’t just thinking about the incredible diversity of life in the ocean over which I was, at that moment, traveling. 

I was also thinking about a news report I had read, a news report about something that was, at that moment, fouling the water beneath me.

On April 12, news media reported about the existence of a massive toxic dump site in the ocean between Long Beach and Catalina Island. Scientists discovered that there are literally hundreds of thousands of barrels of toxic industrial waste lying at the bottom of the ocean.

For a long time, scientists had an idea it was there. There were rumors. 

Also, scientists knew that an astonishing 25% of sea lions in the region have developed cancer. 25%! That doesn’t just “happen.” 

Now, they have found it, that toxic dump, and they have confirmed the existence of this incredible source of pollution.

It was all there, literally right below me, as I travelled between Long Beach and Catalina. And it made me so sad, the way we have treated something so precious, so valuable, so necessary to life as water. 

The Bible doesn’t talk much about pollution, environmental destruction, or climate change. I don’t think it was even imaginable to Biblical authors that we humans could so drastically affect our world on such a large scale, or that our actions could have such devastating consequences. Those biblical authors just assumed that the pastures would be green, and the gently flowing water would always be clean.

But if those Biblical authors could see what we humans are doing to the earth today, I’m sure they would have some words to say. 

After all, scripture repeatedly emphasizes how the earth belongs to God, the one who created it and pronounced it good.

And scripture writers often marvel at the beauty and wonder of creation, from the winds that allow a boat to sail across the sea, to the lilies of the field, to the mighty cypress trees of Lebanon, to the stars in the sky, to animals as diverse as birds and snakes and hyenas and fish.

Our psalm today - one of the most familiar passages in the entire Bible - Psalm 23 - mentions green pastures and still waters. (Those are waters that are gently flowing; waters that are restful; waters that are clean and good for health.)

Clean pastures, and still waters.

The prophet Ezekiel also talks about pastures and water...

In Ezekiel, the prophet says:

“Is feeding in good pasture or drinking clear water such a trivial thing that you should trample and muddy what is left with your feet?  But now my flock must feed on what your feet have trampled and drink water that your feet have muddied” [Ezekiel 34:18-19].

And because of this passage, I know that, if Ezekiel were around today, Ezekiel would be an environmentalist. 

Ezekiel is upset by inconsiderate neighbors who have muddied the water that his flock drinks from. I can only imagine how much more upset Ezekiel would be if Ezekiel were around today, and if Ezekiel could see what we have done to the earth.

And I have no doubt that Ezekiel would be striking for climate every Friday, or that Ezekiel would join a march through the wetlands to demonstrate to our leaders how important it is to protect the earth, or that Ezekiel would pronounce God’s judgment on governments and corporations who allow toxic waste to be dumped into the middle of the ocean.

And because climate issues and justice issues are so closely connected, I know that Ezekiel is not the only one from the Bible who would be fighting for the climate today. In fact, Jesus himself would be. I’m sure of it! Because climate destruction disproportionately affects those who are poor and those who are most vulnerable. 

They are the ones who will suffer the consequences of climate change and environmental pollution first, and indeed, in many places, they already are. Climate change is making them even poorer, even more vulnerable. They truly are “the least of these,” the ones most near and dear to Jesus’ heart.

In other words, justice and healing for the earth is directly tied to justice and healing for all those who are oppressed and vulnerable in our world today. This is why organizations like the Poor People’s Campaign have not ignored climate issues, but have made them an important part of their message.

Justice and healing for the earth is directly tied to justice and healing for the oppressed and vulnerable.

I know one of the challenges we face is figuring out what we can do. Can one person, or a small group of people, really make a difference?

I believe we can.

We can vote for politicians who are serious about tackling our biggest climate challenges. Politicians who understand that creating a new, green economy will not only help the earth, but it will help create jobs and provide long-term economic stability and sustainability.

Politicians who refuse to do so because they are worried about losing jobs in coal, jobs in fossil fuels, etc., are short-sighted. Long-term economic prosperity depends on green, sustainable solutions.

There are also countless other things we can do on an individual level. You know the saying, “reduce, reuse, recycle.” But you may not realize that the order is important. 

Reduce comes first, because reducing the amount we consume is the best thing we can do. Buying less. Buying things that last, so they don’t have to be replaced as often. 

The next best thing we can do is reuse. If you do have to buy something, buy something that can be used and reused over and over. Try to avoid buying anything that is disposable, especially if it is made of plastic.

Then, finally: recycle. Some people think recycling is the best solution, but it’s really not. Long Beach recycling says that they can’t even accept many types of plastics. It’s just not feasible to recycle them. Anything soft, like ziploc bags, produce bags, or a lot of the soft packaging that frozen foods come in, they say we should place in the trash, not the recycling bin. Only large, hard plastics, like milk jugs and beverage bottles and liquid laundry detergent bottles.

So, we should still recycle what we can, but far better is to reduce what we buy and get rid of in the first place.

So: what’s one thing you are going to do? What is one change you can make?

Can you stop buying bottled beverages? Can you request that drinks you get at a restaurant not come with a straw? Can you avoid fast-food places that serve their food in a bunch of disposable plastic packaging?

These are all little things you can do. Things I’ve done at home is switch to using toothbrushes made out of bamboo instead of plastic, and placing a bar of soap on the sink counter for handwashing instead of buying liquid soap that comes in plastic bottles. (Just like the old days!) These are little things, but they’re good things.

If you want to take things to the next level, though, you’ll want to figure out how to reduce the amount of fossil fuel you use, and you’ll want to reduce the amount of meat in your diet. Those are the two most significant things you can do to help fight climate change: use less fossil fuel, and eat less meat. 

And I admit: making these changes is not easy. We’re addicted to fossil fuels, and most of us can’t imagine going a day without meat. But just like everything else, the way of Jesus requires repentance. The way of Jesus requires radical transformation. 

And even if we can’t make the change all at once, we can move in that direction. We can do it one step at a time. We can do it, because we love our neighbor, and we know God calls on us to bring healing and justice to the world. We can do it, because the green pastures and clean, still waters are a gift from God that we should preserve and protect.

A Sermon for the First Week of the Pandemic (Psalm 23, Ephesians 5)

I give thanks to God for our ability to gather this way. And I give thanks for this wonderful moment. This is a time of anxiety for many of us, myself included, but as I sit here right now, I know that I am in worship with each of you who are God’s church. And that makes me happy.

Also, I notice that the sun is shining. It’s a beautiful day where I am, right on the border between Long Beach and Signal Hill. And I give thanks for that.

The present moment is all we have. It’s the only thing that’s real right now. And in this moment, I know I am blessed… WE are blessed.

Today, we are worshiping God, each of us in our own homes, yet united by God’s spirit. 

Last week, a few of us gathered in the sanctuary, and some of us worshipped online. We all knew that worship was going to be very different for awhile; that life was going to be very different for awhile. 

And as we came to the end of our service last week, emotion overwhelmed me.

And I realized that I hadn't made room in my life for lament. And that I needed to. 

And probably, you do too.

We need to make room in our lives for lament. 

We need to make space for sadness.

The psalmists certainly did. There are dozens of psalms of lament, expressing sadness over all sorts of situations. One of the most well known is Psalm 139, in which the people of Israel lament being forced out of their homeland:

By the rivers of Babylon—

   there we sat down and there we wept

   when we remembered Zion.

On the willows there

   we hung up our harps.

For there our captors

   asked us for songs,

and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying,

   ‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion!’

How could we sing the Lord’s song

   in a foreign land?

Reading our Bibles, we also discover that there was a time when even Jesus wept, after his friend Lazarus passed away. Even though Jesus knew that resurrection would come, and that Lazarus would rise again, Jesus still made room for lament.

So if you haven’t yet made room for lament in your life - maybe you need to. We are grieving. We are grieving all sorts of loss right now. Let me name just a few:

We grieve not being able to worship together, in person.

We grieve the interruption to our daily routines.

Even schoolchildren, though they may not realize it, are grieving the loss of the routines and schedules around which their lives were structured.

We grieve the cancellation of so many events. Graduations and proms. Vacations. Big family milestones and parties - birthday celebrations and anniversaries...

We grieve so many little things - like a daily or weekly meetup with a friend for coffee or a meal.

So acknowledge that grief, that sadness, within you, whenever it comes. Tell God about your sadness, just like the psalmists did.

And if you are feeling anxious or afraid, acknowledge that as well. Tell God about that. Tell God how you feel... 

Then listen for God’s response.

It just so happens that one of the lectionary readings for today - the fourth Sunday in Lent - is Psalm 23. Perhaps this is God’s response to our present state of sadness, fear, and anxiety.

Psalm 23

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. 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.

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

 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.

Someone posted on facebook that maybe we should just unplug 2020, wait a few minutes, and plug it back in. Because sometimes, if the computer isn’t working, that’s what you do, to reset everything: you unplug it, you wait, then you plug it back in.

So maybe we should try doing that with the year 2020.

But then I realized: that IS what we’re doing, isn’t it? We’ve pulled the plug on 2020. Some are calling it “The Great Pause.” 

And we’re not sure when we’ll be able to plug 2020 back in and get things going again. Some are hoping for a couple of weeks; more likely, it’s going to be a bit longer than that.

But at some point, we will plug 2020 back in. And then what? How will our lives have changed? What will we have learned?

When you unplug the computer and plug it back in, the hope is that it will start up without any of the glitches that prevent the programs from running smoothly.

Maybe this is a time in which we can get rid of some of the glitches in our lives that have kept our lives from running smoothly… so that, when we plug 2020 back in, everything will run just a little better.

Another one of today’s lectionary readings comes from Ephesians chapter 5. Verses 8 & 9 say: “For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light - for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true.

In this difficult time, look for the light. Perhaps you couldn’t see it before, because of all of life’s distractions and glitches, but maybe in this time of unplugging, you CAN see it. 

In this challenging time, BE the light. Be the light in someone else’s darkness, as so many of you have already been doing. You’ve been the light to each other. You’ve been checking up on each other, making phone calls, offering help and assistance, and providing encouragement...

And of course, you’ve been maintaining that social distancing that will help keep us healthy. Please: stay home. Usually, we show our love to one another by coming together, but right now we are called to show how much we love one another by staying apart, at least physically. 

You can step outside. In fact, I recommend it. Step onto your porch and enjoy the wonderful sunshine God has blessed us with today. Sit there for awhile, if the temperature is right. Let the light shine on you as you ponder how you can be the light in these times.

I promise, it will make you feel better.

And tomorrow, if it rains, sit in front of your window and watch the rain. Turn off the news - you don’t need to get a news update every 20 minutes. Once or twice a day is enough. 

Just sit in the sun. Just watch the rain. Maybe listen to some music. 

These things help.

And one day, this difficult time will come to an end. We will come together. 

But even now, you can welcome the light into your life... and you can be the light in the lives of others.

Through the Darkest Valley (Psalm 23)

The 23^rd Psalm.  If you’ve been part of the church for any length of time – and I use the word church in its biggest, widest sense – then you are familiar with this bit of scripture.  And if you haven’t, if you’re new to the church, if you’ve never cracked open a Bible and read its words with your own eyes, there was still probably a recognition of familiarity in the back of your brain:

You’ve heard these words before.

Where was it that you heard them?  Perhaps at a funeral you once attended.  Or maybe, they were spoken by a character in a movie or TV show.  Or maybe an acquaintance quoted a portion of this psalm, and you didn’t even know at the time that it was the 23^rd Psalm, but the words stuck in your memory.

Sometimes the words of this psalm appear in the most interesting places.  I was searching online for images related to Psalm 23; I became intrigued that so many of the images of Psalm 23 that came up were of tattoos.

I am not a tattoo person.  Some of you are, and I have no problem with that; but that’s not who I am, mainly because I don’t think I could ever be confident enough that something I’d want tattooed on my body today, I’d still want to wake up and look at every day of my life,  tomorrow, the next day, ten, twenty, and thirty years from now.  What words or images are so important to me that I could be 100% certain that they would remain just as important to me, no matter what stage of life I’m in?  The prospect of making a decision like that is overwhelming.  It’s easier to just say no.

But even though I am not about to tattoo Psalm 23 on my body, it is one of those scriptures that I have tattooed on my heart.  So it was easy for me to understand why so many have chosen to get tattoos of Psalm 23 on their bodies: on their arms and their shoulders and their chests and their sides and their legs…

…and across the inside of their wrists.

Now maybe it’s because I have skinny, bony wrists, with a very thin, almost translucent layer of skin on the inside of my wrist, barely concealing the bone and cartilage and blood vessels that lie just underneath; or maybe I’m just extra sensitive about my wrists, having broken the bones in my left wrist when I was in 7^th grade… but the inside of the wrist doesn’t seem like the most, uh, comfortable place to get a tattoo.

Why would anyone do that?

Then I remembered the stories of some young people I’ve met, counseled at camp, or been a pastor to, and the stories they told me about times when they’ve been depressed, anxious, or under so much stress that they would intentionally cut themselves – often on the wrist – as a way of seeking relief, and of experiencing, for a moment at least, control over their bodies and their lives, in contrast to most every other moment of their lives when it seems that all control and all power belong not to them, but to the depression, anxiety, and stress .

Cutting oneself and other forms of self-harm – because they give the feeling of being in control – provide some people with a momentary relief from intense emotional stress.  Thus it actually feels good to the person doing it. 

But the good feeling doesn’t last.  It is often replaced by guilt and shame, leading to isolation and a breakdown in relationships.  This loneliness is then added to the depression, anxiety, and stress, which, of course, are still there.

It’s not a pretty place in which to find yourself:  a place of depression and anxiety, guilt and shame, loneliness and isolation; a place where cutting oneself feels good compared to the tribulations of the real world which must be endured.

Welcome, my friends, to the darkest valley.  Welcome to the valley of the shadow of death.

For someone who is there, it makes perfect sense to place on the inside of the wrist, in ink that cannot be removed, the words of Psalm 23; and in particular, Psalm 23 verse 4:

“Even though I walk through the darkest valley – even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death –

I will not fear…

For you are with me…

You protect me … You comfort me.”

Here’s another story of a person’s trip through the darkest valley…

On March 26, NPR’s afternoon news program All Things Considered featured an interview with a woman from Minnesota named Mary Johnson.

Nineteen years ago, according to program host Laura Sullivan, Mary Johnson “was at work when her sister-in-law called to tell her [that] her 20 year-old son Laramiun was dead.  He had been shot to death.  There was a fight at a party with a gun.”

Mary Johnson said:  “I don’t remember doing down eight flights on the elevator.  I don’t remember the short walk to the car.  I don’t even remember the short walk to my sister’s home.”

A few days later, Mary Johnson got a call from the detective, who told her that he had picked up a sixteen year-old boy; his name was Oshea Israel.

Mary Johnson thought Oshea Israel was an animal.  She said:  “I wanted him charged as an adult with first-degree murder, imprisoned for the rest of his life.”

She was there, in the courtroom, every time something was going on.  She was there when he was sentenced.  She wanted to see him punished.  She said:  “I hated Oshea.”

Laura Sullivan reports that “Mary Johnson struggled with her grief for more than a decade.”  (That’s a long time to spend in the darkest valley.)  “But one day, she read a passage from a book about two mothers who had lost sons.  The mothers were in heaven.”

The way Mary Johnson tells the story, “one mother said, ‘I would have taken my child’s place on the cross if I could have.’  And the other mother fell on one knee and she said, ‘Oh! You are she, the mother of Christ!’

“And the mother of Christ lifted her up, kissed the tear from her cheek and said, ‘tell me of your son, so that I may grieve with you.’ And she said, ‘My son is Judas Iscariot.’”

After reading that story, Mary Johnson knew that she had to meet Oshea Israel.

“And so, early one morning in 2005, Mary Johnson went to the prison in Stillwater, Minnesota, where Oshea Israel was incarcerated.”

Mary Johnson said: “Halfway up, I just broke down and I said, ‘God, I cannot do this.  I’m not ready to do this.’”

But she made it to the conference room and took a seat.  And then she spoke to the man who had killed her son.  She said:

“Look, I don’t know you.  You don’t know me.  You didn’t know my son.  My son didn’t know you… We need to lay our foundation.  We need to get to know one another.”

Laura Sullivan reports that “they talked about Mary Johnson’s son, about her pain, about Israel’s remorse.  And then they talked about their lives.  They talked for two hours.  Mary Johnson had only planned to visit Israel once.  But a moment at the end of the meeting seemed to bind them together, when Oshea Israel asked Mary Johnson if he could hug her.

He later said: “I felt like, you know, she just offered me her forgiveness.  I don’t have anything to offer her.  At least I can show her some compassion.”

They embraced.

Mary Johnson said:  “I tell you I had something going on in my feet physically, moving, stirring in my feet, and it just moved up and up and up.  And I felt this ‘whatever’ leave me.  And I knew that … all that hatred and the animosity and anger – the bitterness – I knew that all that stuff I had inside me for twelve years, I just knew it was over.  It was over with.”

Early in his ministry, Jesus announced his mission: his mission was to bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, sight to the blind, and freedom to the oppressed.

For twelve years, Mary Johnson had been living without good news.  For twelve years she had been captive to anger oppressed by her own bitterness.  For twelve years, she had been living in that darkest valley.

One of the things Jesus taught was the power of forgiveness.  “Rabbi, if someone keeps on sinning against me, how many times should I forgive?  As many as seven times?”

“No, not seven times, but 77 times!”

Forgiveness is a tool that we have been given; it is a gift that has been given to us, to help us move beyond our anger and bitterness, and make our way out of the darkest valley.

As Mary Johnson found out, it may be very difficult to take those steps on the path to forgiveness; but only by taking those steps can brokenness give way to healing, wholeness, and salvation.

The darkest valley is different for each one of us.  For some, it’s the depression, anxiety, and stress that leads them to inflict self-harm by cutting.  For Mary Johnson, it’s the pain and anger that were left after her son was murdered.  For you, it may be something else entirely.

I know a lot of people who get so caught up in life, going to work everyday, earning money with which they buy a nice house and fill it with nice things… and then they look around and they think, “Is this all there is to life?”

And all of a sudden, everything becomes – to quote Ecclesiastes – vanity of vanities, a chasing after the wind.  Life becomes like a stream that flows to the sea, always flowing, day after day after day, and yet the sea never fills up; nothing ever changes.

And they enter their own depression, their own dark valley, because it seems that nothing they do makes any difference. 

Nothing matters.

But even in that darkest valley, God is present.  God is with you, protecting you, showing you the way out, giving you the tools you need to cope.

And then we remember what God has taught us:  that in fact, there is so much more to live for; that joy doesn’t come from an abundance of nice things. 

This we’ve heard so many times, but we never really believed it … not until we entered the darkest valley, and realized that none of our nice things could save us, protect us, or comfort us.

And maybe Jesus was right:  maybe we need to lose this life of nice things… just let go of it completely and die to it… in order to find what’s really worth living for … in order to find our way out of the darkest valley … in order to find life itself, in all its abundance … in order to find the Love that was right there with us all along.