I can remember sitting on a rooftop at a restaurant one evening when I lived in Mexico, and looking out at the mountains. The sense of the majesty of the mountains and how small and insignificant I was in comparison to their greatness. The experience of standing on a mountain which leads me to worship is unlike anything else.
However there is something about water that constantly draws me to it. The rushing feeling you get when you look at the rapids and waterfalls, when you stare out at the waves crashing on a beach. The force of water which creates fear and awe as you watch it strike the rocks with nothing to stop its power. And yet, there is something indescribable about the moments when you sit beside the still waters. Unlike even the mountains and the oceans, the still waters create a sense of pondering and stillness. Silence and reflection. Something so foreign in our culture that many times I don’t even know what to do with it.
In Psalm 23, one of the most well known passages in all of Scripture, David writes for us a beautiful promise in verses 2-3 when he pens, “He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside the still waters, He restores my soul.” David uses his knowledge of sheep to paint us a beautiful picture of the Great Shepherd (Jesus Christ) and His perfect care of the flock. I totally get why we are compared to sheep in the Bible. Only sheep need someone to look out for them and to make sure they don’t get into any danger. (If you don’t believe me-just think about. What do you call a person who watches the chickens? Or the horses?) We’re stupid. We’re stubborn. We are constantly trying to do things our own way-thinking we can get to greener pastures than what the Shepherd has led us to. So prone to wolves coming into the flock and devouring us. In need of constant care and protection from someone much wiser than ourselves. David writes here “he makes me lie down.” This idea of loving force. A picture of a little lamb who keeps trying to run away and find their own methods and time after time the shepherd goes and gets them and brings them back and finally says, “Ok, because I love you so much and know the danger out there…I’m going to have to break your little legs and make you lie down here by me.”
Breaking my legs? That doesn’t sound very peaceful. Or easy. Or very much fun at all. That sounds really hard and really painful. Keep reading. Keep reading.
He makes me lie down in the green pastures. The shepherd goes BEFORE the sheep. His feet have walked every aspect of the trail he asks them to travel. He has gone before marking the course, charting it out for them. Knowing exactly what they can handle and where to lead them. He takes them to green pastures. The places which hold the best grass possible for the sheep. A place where He can restore our souls. Where He communes with us and meets with us in intimacy.
“Well, this grass doesn’t look very green to me. Mine looks pretty brown and chewed up and spit out these days. Heck, I think mine has cow poop in it.”
“And you know what child? I SEE THE GREEN. And I know what will be the absolute best for you! And what will be for your GREATEST good and bring me the most glory. Just trust me with this pasture. Trust me.”
He leads me beside the still waters. HE LEADS. He takes me there. It’s going to take awhile. We’re not going to get there today by reading a verse and drinking a cup of coffee. This is going to be a daily thing. Day after day after day. Still waters. A place of great depth unlike anything else. Deep waters that are very still. We aren’t going through these waters. We aren’t going around them. We are walking BESIDE them. Me and Jesus.
The Shepherd loves restoration. He loves to bring us to this place of great depth and commune with Him. A place of silence where everything else is put away and turned off, and He alone has our heart and our attention. A place where His Word and His presence meets us in indescribable ways. That bring us prostrate on our faces before Him in humility in worship. When the King of the Universe, the One seated on His throne holding all things together, meets and communes with us! Not a “Hey I’ve got 5 minutes here lets make this quick,” but an “OHHHHH DAUGHTER, Come and meet with me! Come and walk with me! Commune with me! Be intimate with me! Let me restore your tired and weary soul! Let me speak truth and life into you! Let me heal your broken legs! Let me give you a fresh view of my greatness and majesty that leads you to greater depths of worship!”
This next month will be the celebration of the Cross. The greatest moment to alter the course of human history forever. The greatest picture of restoration in all of Scripture. And Isaiah 53 says that there in that moment- in that agony, in those cries and screams coming from Golgotha, in those torturous moments of the most horrendous pain, the Son of God Himself, this Great Shepherd took the iniquity for us all.
As I look to celebrate Easter this year, there has been a growing conviction in my life from Isaiah 53 and Psalm 23 to walk beside the still waters with my Shepherd. To put aside the business, the schedules, even all of the good things, and take some serious time to reflect in silence on all the Lord has done for us through Jesus Christ. To truly let Him restore our souls.
Will you join me in making more than the weekend of Easter, but the whole month, a celebration of the Cross and the resurrection and the Lamb who was slaughtered for my sins and yours? Will you join me in taking significant chunks of time these next few weeks to reflect and worship and be led to places of restoration? To get serious about sin and revel in the majesty of the gospel? To commune with our Savior in ways we never have before?
Restoration. The picture found again in Isaiah 51:3-4
3For the LORD comforts Zion;
he comforts all her waste places
and makes her wilderness like Eden,
her desert like the garden of the LORD;
joy and gladness will be found in her,
thanksgiving and the voice of song.
May this month be a joyous celebration of ALL the Lamb has done.
