The Lord is my shepherd

 

“He Is My Shepherd and I Shall Not Want”

I didn’t always understand

what it meant to be a sheep.

Fragile.

Wandering.

Prone to losing the path

in broad daylight.

Prone to walking straight into danger

with no idea

it was coming.

But He knew.

He always knew

exactly what I was —

and He chose

to be my Shepherd

anyway.

⸻

The Lord is my shepherd.

Not a distant overseer.

Not a God who points the way

and leaves you

to find it alone.

A shepherd.

One who walks the same ground.

One who knows each one by name.

One who leaves the ninety-nine

without a second thought

to find the one —

and that one

has been me

more times than I can count.

⸻

I have wandered.

Oh, how I have wandered.

Into fields that looked like freedom

but were full of thorns.

Into paths that promised everything

and left me lost and torn.

Into valleys so dark and so deep

I forgot there was ever

such a thing as light —

and every single time,

I heard it.

A voice.

His voice.

Not angry.

Not tired of finding me again.

Just calling.

Just steady.

Just relentless in its love —

come back.

I’m here.

I’ve got you.

⸻

He makes me lie down

in green pastures.

There are seasons in this life

when everything in me is exhausted —

when I have run so hard

and carried so much

and given everything I had

until I had nothing left to give —

and He doesn’t hand me a list

of everything I still need to do.

He makes me lie down.

Right there in the green.

In the quiet.

In the rest I didn’t know

I was allowed to have.

He says —

be still.

Let Me be enough

for just this moment.

⸻

He leads me beside still waters.

Not raging.

Not rushing.

Still.

Because He knows

I am afraid of the raging water.

He knows how loud life gets.

He knows the noise that never stops —

the worry, the grief,

the questions with no answers,

the night that goes on too long.

And so He leads me

somewhere quiet.

Somewhere I can hear Him again.

Somewhere my soul remembers

it was made for peace

and not for panic.

⸻

He restores my soul.

This is the line

that undoes me

every single time.

He restores.

Not replaces.

Not gives up on.

Not starts over with someone

more worthy, less broken,

less likely to wander again.

He restores.

The same soul.

My soul.

With all its cracks

and wandering history —

He takes it gently

and He breathes life back in.

Over and over

and over again.

As many times

as it takes.

⸻

Yea, though I walk

through the valley

of the shadow of death —

and I have walked that valley.

Some of you reading this

are walking it right now.

The valley where the grief

has no bottom.

The valley where the sickness

has no easy answer.

The valley where you buried someone

you were not ready to let go.

The valley where you lost yourself

and couldn’t find the way back.

⸻

I will fear no evil.

Not because the valley isn’t dark.

Not because the shadow isn’t real.

But because —

You are with me.

You are with me.

Right here.

In the darkest part of the road.

Not waiting at the end of it.

Not watching from a safe distance.

With me.

⸻

Your rod and Your staff —

the protection and the guidance,

the correction and the comfort —

they hold me

when I cannot hold myself.

⸻

You prepare a table before me

in the presence of my enemies.

Even here.

Even when the battle is still raging.

Even when the enemy is close

and the outcome feels uncertain —

You set a table.

You say —

sit down.

Let Me serve you.

Let Me show the darkness

who you belong to.

⸻

You anoint my head with oil.

You mark me as Your own.

You say to everything

that tries to claim me —

this one is Mine.

⸻

Surely goodness and mercy

shall follow me

all the days of my life.

Not someday.

All the days.

The hard ones.

The confusing ones.

The ones I wanted to skip.

The ones I didn’t think

I’d survive.

Goodness was there.

Mercy was there.

Following me

like a faithful shadow.

Closer than I knew.

More present than I felt.

⸻

And at the end of every road,

at the end of every valley,

at the end of this life

and everything it held —

I will dwell

in the house of the Lord

forever.

Forever.

Not for a season.

Not until I fail Him one more time.

Forever.

⸻

This is my Shepherd.

This is the One who found me

when I was lost

and carried me home

on His shoulders —

not with frustration,

but with joy.

⸻

The Lord is my Shepherd.

I shall not want.

I shall not want for love —

He has given it endlessly.

I shall not want for peace —

He leads me there gently.

I shall not want for purpose —

He goes before me faithfully.

I shall not want for presence —

He never leaves.

Not ever.

Not once.

⸻

He is the Shepherd

and I am His —

and that

is more than enough

for every day I have left

to live. 🕊️

⸻

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”

— Psalm 23:1 💛