Rest

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters."

Psalm 23: 1-2

I've been contemplating verse 2 of Psalm 23 for a while now.  It's easy to focus on the promise of the passage.  Still waters, green pastures.  The bounty of his provision.

But what has caught my focus is the imperative in the first stanza.  "He maketh me to lie down."  It's not "He lets me to lie down."  It's "He makes me..."  There isn't a choice.  The Lord makes us rest.  He knows what it best for us, He knows when we need rest, and He makes sure we get it.

In looking over this part of the Psalm, I’ve come across some mythology built around it. In particular, one erroneous sermon illustration regarding how a shepherd could control a continually wayward sheep. How the shepherd would force the sheep to rest and stay in the green pasture. According to this false illustration, the shepherd would hobble the lamb, carefully breaking its leg.

The earliest version of this illustration seems to date back to What Jesus Said, a book written by Robert Boyd Munger in 1955. As it appears in the book, Munger wrote of a version heard from Syria.

“A Foreigner traveling in Syria who became acquainted with a shepherd. Each morning, he noticed the shepherd taking food to a sheep that had a broken leg. As he looked at the animal, he asked the shepherd, ‘How did the sheep break its leg? Did it meet with an accident, fall into a hole, or did some animal break its leg?’

‘No,’ said the shepherd, ‘I broke this sheep’s leg myself.’

‘You broke it yourself?’ queried the surprised traveler.

‘Yes, you see, this is a wayward sheep; it would not stay with the flock, but would lead the sheep astray. Then it would not let me near it so I had to break the sheep’s leg so that it would allow me, day by day to feed it. In doing this it will know me as its shepherd, trust me as its guide, and keep with the flock.’”

This story is the only evidence we have for this kind of activity. Instead, what we know from historical shepherds is that this type of practice did not occur. Breaking an animal’s leg is potentially very risky. The trauma of the injury could kill the lamb, or infection could set in. The lamb could be crippled for life, or the injury could heal in a deformed manner. It’s far too risky to chance.

This erroneous illustration could be the result of mishearing a homophone. While shepherds would not break a lamb’s leg, they may “brake” it. That is, they would attach a heavy weight to the lamb’s leg to slow it down, essentially leashing the animal. A less dangerous version of forcing the animal to rest. Forcing the animal to stay within the green pasture.

As adults, it can often seem silly that we would need to be forced to rest. We’re all so tired and worn, rest becomes something we greatly desire and appreciate. Nap time might not be appreciated in children, but I think if you instituted a federally mandated nap time for all adults, there would be a great rejoicing.

Parents can definitely have experience with having to force someone to rest. Particularly parents of toddlers. Those little dictators are convinced that they know themselves best. “I’m not tired.” “I don’t want to take a nap.” “I don’t need to sleep.”

This is a daily fight with our children. The five year old is convinced she does not need naps, despite her getting really cranky in the evenings without one. It was the source of trouble for her at pre-school. She would talk during nap time. First she talked to the other students and would get in trouble for keeping them up. Then got in trouble for talking to herself. When she would be still, she would just lay there, at least not talking or disturbing anyone else, but still not going to sleep. She fights Jamie everyday, to the point where we have sometime resorted to tricking her to sleep.

The two year old is a little easier to get to sleep. If we can just get him to lie down. Though he is getting a lot more fussy about it.

Again, we know they need sleep. We know how cranky they get in the evenings if they don’t get it. How it can get them in trouble for fighting each other. How it brings their emotions to the surface.

We know the benefit of sleep. We know how it helps them. How much more peaceful they are. How much more fun they have in the evenings.

That’s why we have to make them get sleep. Make them take a nap. Make them rest.

We’re not that different as adults.

Sure, when it comes to physical rest, we may appreciate it and desire it. That doesn’t mean we don’t fill our lives with a lot of stuff.

We throw ourselves into work to the point of becoming workaholics. Forging our identities in our work. Making it an idol. Telling ourselves we have to because it is what is expected.

We even overwork ourselves in church. Feeling the more we are doing for the church, the more we are “doing” for God, the holier we are. This current generation is filled with people who resent church because their parents were good at church, but not good at life. Who saw church consuming so much of their parents time, but not transforming their private lives.

We busy ourselves, convincing ourselves that it is for the best. Often in things that are taking our focus off our Good Shepherd. Taking our focus off the provision of the green pasture and deep water.

We seem to want to throw off the Lord’s yoke. Jesus promised his burden was easy and his yoke was light. We want to trade that in for doing things in our own strength.   "I can handle this."  "I know what I'm doing."  "I know my body."  "I know what I can handle."

Just like toddlers, we refuse to take the rest provided to us.

This need for rest goes well beyond physical exhaustion. It covers mental exhaustion.  The point where your mind is so consumed, it cannot shut off.  The exhaustion of the checklist.  Of needing to be on top of a hundred different things.  Of trying to absorb too much.

I think of the all night study sessions.  Trying to retain so much information that you reach a point where the brain just says "no more."  Where you can feel in a fog.

This also covers emotional exhaustion.  Are you the one that takes other's burdens on yourself?  Who empathizes too much?  Or are you carrying a high burden of the emotional weight of your current circumstances?  Are you grieving, are you hurting, are you on edge to the point where the burden is too much to bear?

Finally, this covers spiritual exhaustion.  O soul are you weary and troubled?  Are you consumed with worry?  Do you feel like you have been emptied and not refilled?  Have you reached spiritual burnout? 

Or from the complete opposite end, has the conviction of your sin caught up with you?  Has the Lord's discipline brought you to a place of unrest, where you realize you cannot stay where you are?

The good news, the gospel is, just like a good parent, the Lord makes us rest. For our own good. For His sake.

He loves and corrects His children.  He slows us down when we need it.  He teaches us through it all.

And in the coming promise, He restores our soul.

I know in this season of my life, God has been making me rest.  He has given me physical rest, in moving me from a position where I often felt stressed and overworked, to an interim forced sabbatical and now a temporary position where I cannot overwork given the structure.

He has given me spiritual rest, working through and removing hidden and unconfessed sin.  Helping me move from worry to trust in His provision.  Reminding me of His faithfulness when needed.

I'm learning to rest.

It's a process.

Where are you in it?

Are you in a place where He needs to make you rest?

What prevents you from trusting in His rest?

Want

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want."

Psalm 23:1

This started as a homily on the first verse of the twenty-third Psalm.  And it's still that, sort of, but it's morphed into something different.

As we are walking through the Psalm, the focus on this first verse has been on how as sheep of the Great Shepherd, we should be free from want.  He fulfills all our needs.  When we want more, we are either doubting the sufficiency of the Shepherd, or we are acting as foolish sheep.

This applies to every scenario, even when it is difficult, even when it is trying.  Even in the valley of the shadow of death.

Even in a change of employment.  Even in through a fire.

And it's the fire, that I will be discussing, after a reminder from Jamie.

Because it's a fire that brought us together.

I realize I've never told that story here, and thought it was past time.

Jamie and I actually met for the first time in a small group Bible study in central Austin.  She came in to the Bible study that I had been attending and sat down directly across from me.  Our small talk quickly turned to a love of old movies and TCM.

We would later learn that we would have my sister to thank for our meeting at all.  I was attending the small group that my sister had joined when she started with the Austin Stone.  Jamie had attended a welcome/more information session at the church, where she met my sister, who recommended that same small group.

Despite similar interests, we never dated in Austin.  Jamie hung out with more of the rest of my family than me.  She played frisbee golf with Taylor.  She continued to go to the small group with Brooke.  My dad even sat in on that small group and met her there.

In a group setting, I went to one of the frisbee golf sessions and ate with them afterward.  While we all got P. Terry's hamburgers, I remember Jamie heading over to a crepe stand.  I drove her home from group one night.  I helped her move out of her apartment in December to start her time with Missoula Children's Theater.  I was the first one there that night and met her mom and dad.  Jamie and I moved a lot out of the apartment before anyone else got there.  (Her mom would later tell us that she told her sister that night that she met Jamie's future husband).

But in all of that, no one on one dates, no group dates, nothing.

We wouldn't date until we were both in Tyler, in March, over three months later.  I was working in Tyler with the group that I would be associated with for over ten years.  Jamie was home on spring break from Missoula Children's Theater.  We were both getting an email prayer list from the small group, and Jamie read the prayer request I had, indicating I was in Tyler, lonely, and ready to come back to Austin.  So she called me up and asked if I'd like to hang out.

One date turned into the rest of the week, seeing her through the end of her spring break home.  That experience led her to choose not to re-up with Missoula once the semester was finished, but to come back home in June.  From that point on, we were inseparable.

The real story, though, is why Jamie was in Tyler.  It was not where her family typically lived.  It was not where she lived prior to Missoula.  Under normal circumstances, she would not have been in Tyler.

If not for the fire at her parent's house over Christmas.

Christmas Eve, 2007, Jamie's family gathered as they typically would for Christmas.  The family decided to have Christmas in Texas this year instead of Alabama, so there were a lot of people in their house that particular year.  Twelve in this house, thirteen in the relative's across the street.

That night, they lit a fire in the fireplace and had turned in to go to sleep.  What they could not know is that cracks in the fireplace would allow the fire to spread into surrounding walls behind the brick.  Shortly after midnight, that defect would make itself known.

Thankfully, no one was hurt during the fire.  The gifts and stockings were saved. Pictures were saved.  There was damage, but it was repaired.  The fire was contained to two rooms.  In terms of a fire, it was inconveniencing more than anything.

The fire did require the family stay out of the house until it was repaired.  Insurance put them up in an apartment in Tyler.  This worked out for Jamie's parents.  They both worked in Tyler.  It was a tight fit, but it worked.

This meant Jamie was with her family in Tyler when she came home for spring break.

For the want of a house fire, who knows where Jamie and I would be.

"For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the message was lost.
For want of a message the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail."

It's an important reminder.  Our circumstances may lead us to unexpected places.  We may not see the value of the unemployment period.  The fire.  The setback.  The struggle.  The suffering.  That's not what anyone prays for.

But it may be what is needed to put us in the place to get to the next blessing.  To go through the fire to get to the relationship.

To get through this period to see whatever comes next.

So while I may be ready to move through this period, to rush through to get to what is next, I'm going to strive to learn, to remember, that I shall not want for the Lord is my shepherd.  He has this.  He will purpose this.

He will.

When Change is Forced Upon You

The fear of change seems to be a universal part of the human experience.  I think it's largely because of the lack of control that it represents.  Even in situations where we arguably choose the change that is coming, we still often face it with some level of fear.  Fear of making the wrong choice, fear of failure, fear of the future.  Fear of the unknown.

All these fears are exacerbated when the change is forced upon you.  When the agent of change is out of your control.  By the actions of other people.  By the government.  By nature.  By God.   These are often the biggest changes.  Illness, death, crisis.

Please note, in all the above, I've made no distinction between whether the change is negative or positive.  It often makes no difference.  A positive change can often be as scary as a negative one, simply because we cannot see the outcome at the outset.  Likewise, often the most necessary changes, the most beneficial changes to our lives can be often those feared the most, because they have the most on the line.  They require us to take a step of faith.  To take a step into the unknown, to roll the dice, and take a chance.  And that often requires leaving a place of comfort and stability, to move on to something greater.

I was fired Wednesday evening from a job that I have held for over ten years now.  In truth, it's probably a company and a position I should have left some time ago, but I kept at it because of comfort, stability, grit, and a sense of loyalty.  I believed in what the company could and should be, and I still do.  And there are people there that I would still fight to the end for and beside.

I don't really want to take up any space here with writing about the firing or the events/reasons given surrounding it.  There's nothing good that would come of it.  There's no change that would be affected.  I would rather focus on the point that I've come to.

After dealing with the initial shock, I've come to realize that this is a change that has been forced on me because I didn't leave earlier and probably when I should have.  It's a clearing of the deck and a preparation for a new adventure.  A new opportunity.  And hopefully, potentially, something big.

Jamie and I had already been preparing to move.  We were looking to move closer to the office in Richardson to cut down on the 110 miles that I put on the car every day and the 2-3 hour commute roundtrip that I made.  Jamie was looking for a transition after 11 years at Wills Point High School and we wanted to be closer together with the kids at such a great developmental time.

Jamie was also looking for a break.  Something different than teaching for a little bit for a refreshing. A sabbatical.  She initially thought of taking it a year or two after we moved, but about March, we had come to realize that it would make the most sense for her to take it now.  For us to have a transition year or so, where she took the sabbatical, we moved closer and then had a lot of time to find the right place in the DFW area for us to put down roots and then for her to look for her next theater position.   Accordingly, she had put in her resignation back in early April and has been prepping for her sabbatical year with the kids.

With my change now, we're both free and untethered.  We don't own property.  We've been renting a great loft apartment in town.  We're nearly completely out of debt.  We're open to new adventure.

In fact, if we could make it work financially, we'd love nothing more than just to start off now and start traveling.  Teaching the kids history and geography as we make our way across the country/world.  Writing and videoing our travels.  Investing in our family and exploring this great creation.

And we're still planning for that to happen, perhaps a little later when Jude's a little older, but we're going to figure out how to make it work for a season.

Right now, I'm applying and looking for new opportunities.  And in the process, while I started with DFW and Austin, I've come to realize that there's no reason not to cast a broader net.  With where we've been brought to, I have to believe we may be being prepared for a bigger change.  And I'm okay with that.

I think of David and his path to the throne.  He's told he will be king of Israel when he is a child, but there is someone else seated on that throne.  David would spend fifteen years between his anointing and finally being crowned king of Judah, and another seven to become king of all Israel.  He would spend that time being persecuted and hunted by Saul, often living in caves and on the run.

And yet, through that experience, he could still pen:

"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 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 annoint 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 forever."

Not to tempt fate, but for a dose of perspective, if last week is the worst thing that happens to me, I'm truly blessed.  And should something worse occur, the Lord is still my Shepherd.

He is leading me into pastures that I know not.  New pastures, new paths, new opportunities.  There may even be new valleys.  But he is with me.  And he restores my soul.

I still have that pinch of fear about me.  Will anyone respond to the resume?  I haven't had to interview in over eleven years, will I present a good application?  Is there an opportunity out there for me that is full-time and stable?  Or am I going back to temporary contract/project based work?

Those kind of fears are always there if we give into them.  The questions just change.

Instead, I'm choosing to focus on the wide open possibility.

I'm ready for the new adventure.

When change is forced upon you, trust the Shepherd.