Monday, March 23, 2020

Cross Roads: The Shepherd's Road



Our Text is: 
Psalm 23  

When Mike made the choice to move our Sunday morning worship online last week, I believed him to be doing it out of an overabundance of caution. Between the two of us Mike is the more cautious one. Little did we know that by the day, the governor would make this sort of worship basically mandatory for congregations across the state. As the week progressed, state by state similar regulations have gone into effect until basically the whole US has been included.
This year, toilet paper shortages, social distancing, working from home, schooling from home, trying to figure out the best, least crowded time to go to the grocery store; all of this is a part of our Lenten journey. As we continue to journey down this road through Lent we find our path has taken us into a dark valley. Perhaps saying we find ourselves in a valley of the “shadow of death” would be a bit melodramatic, but I have to confess, as I worked through this passage this week, I could not help but think, “Lord, here we are in the valley and the shadow which has come over us sure does feel like one of death.” Now don’t get me wrong I have not been sitting at my house this week thinking, “We’re all gonna die”, but the shadow, which has passed over us is, is not so much the shadow of death, but it is most definitely the shadow that is the fear of death.
All this staying home and waiting reminds me of how it feels when we have all hunkered down waiting for a hurricane making its way toward us. Those of in the North East did that a fair few years ago, those, farther South of us have done it more recently. When a hurricane is coming, we can track its path. We can predict where it might go next, whether it might turn inland or go out to sea. We know, when it finally runs its course, some will be hit, and others will be fine. If it follows the worst case scenario things might not go back to normal for a really long time. And that is where are right now, hunkered down waiting so see what will come, praying for the best, preparing for the worst. Perhaps this is not the shadow of death per-se, but it is a big, dark, scary shadow, looming, surrounding, and threatening to engulf, none-the-less.
While living in a place that is most definitely a valley enshadowed, we gather in this strange ungathering, united in worship yet separate, coming together, while remaining apart. In our fear, in our separation, in our loneliness, we come to this familiar passage and can find comfort in saying together, “The Lord is my shepherd,” and know God takes care of us, provides for us, and tends to our needs.
Here in the US our culture has made all of us into consumers. And consumer, we know anything we want can be gotten. But not everything can be gotten right now. So there is so much want, which goes unfulfilled. We walk away unsatisfied.  For the first time in most of our memories store shelves are routinely void of the things we want. We cannot have them, they are not there to buy and that makes us nervous and worried. What are consumers when the things we consume are gone?
I may not need flour now, but last time I was at the store, there were NO bags of flour on the store shelf.  Today there are just a few. Should I buy some, even if I do not need it right now, just in case there is none when do need some? How much should I buy when I do buy some? We want, flour, hand sanitizer, surface disinfectants, and toilet paper. And right now most of us leave the stores wanting. But with the Lord as our shepherd there is no need to want, to desire what we do not have, cannot have, is not available to be had.
We belong to the shepherd God who provides for our needs, who fills us with all good things. Remember the Israelites in the dessert who found bread in the morning and meat in the evening, just waiting to be prepared and eaten. And when they were thirsty there was a rock ready to flow with water. God lead by day and by night, going with them we ever they went. This is the God who is with us now. Here in our valley, guiding us in the light of day, and continues to be with us in the darkness and the fear, providing for us, sheltering us and keeping us. There is no need to fear, God is with us, in it all, through it all, no matter where we are. God is with us.
The one who provided food in the desert, water from a rock this is the one who gives to us, who fills us and who satisfies us, who will give us rest, peace, calm. Our shepherd calls to us, invites us to breathe deeply and to be still. Not “be still” like too many of us have been still this past week; still in our houses, with our insides abuzz with fear, vibrating with anxiety, pacing within ourselves, with desire to do something. Anything. We are called to be still within ourselves, to give up our anxiousness, fast from our fear, to sit down within ourselves and trust God.
Our shepherd comes to us at us and says rest here, be still, relax. I will keep watch. Do not fear, do not worry. Take a break from all that worries you. Step away from the news. Turn it off, listen to my voice instead, to the gentle sound of the waters. There is enough here for you. Be still, be calm. Rest. Let the waters restore you, refresh you. Let the gentle sound calm you. Listen to my voice, follow me and together we will find the green pastures, the quiet stream, the place of rest. The place where our worries are stilled and our anxieties are calmed.
This Lent I have asked you to envision that we are traveling along a road which is taking us to Christ’s cross, his suffering, his death and ultimately the resurrection. Along this road we have come to several cross roads. These cross roads are the Psalms we have encountered each Sunday as we have journeyed through Lent. This week the road which crosses ours is the Shepherd’s Road; a road that is more of an invitation to journey in community with God than an actual road itself.
In the 23rd Psalm we encounter our Shepherd God, calling to us, come let us journey together. Life is better together. Are you lonely? Come let us walk together, let us go together. Is the road rough, is the journey difficult? Let me put my arm around you, we can do this together. Are you anxious or frightened, I am here.
The fact of the matter is our God is really awful, at Social Distancing. In this world of social distancing where to many are alone in their homes, unable to spend time with others, their only encounter with others being the clerk at the grocery store, not only does our shepherd walk hand in hand with us, and support us with strong comforting arms, but God says, “Come dwell with me.” “Come stay in my house, eat at my table, be full, be satisfied.” “We can face anything that comes against us together, with a full stomach and joy in our hearts.”
As we journey together with God, as our guide and our support there are two travelers behind us. Goodness and mercy, who are following along the way. Perhaps it is time to stop for moment, let them catch up. Bring them along for the journey. Make it a road trip, Goodness, Mercy, God and you. Together you will make it through.
And that is the message of this Psalm for us today. Let us journey together, even as we are apart. Let us travel this lonely journey together, staying at least six feet apart, in our own homes. We know God is with us, but let us give voice to the presence of God. Be goodness and mercy traveling with others along this new road. Give people a call. Call someone you have not talked to in a while catchup with them. Check up on others from within our congregation, see how they are doing. Check in on your neighbors. Take someone a meal. You can even do a sort of ding-dong-dash, where you drop the food at the door, ring and run. Offer to do a grocery run for someone who might otherwise be finding it difficult. Be goodness and mercy, traveling this lonely road, down which we are all journeying together.
Today God calls for us to journey together, reminds us we are not on this road alone. God is traveling with us, walking with us, is our guide, our help and our strength all along the way. We are encouraged to journey not only with God, but to journey with one another (sepearately). We are in this together, you, me, us together with God. We can do this.


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