Living Psalm 23

After church today, a man told me he was very impressed that I could recite Psalm 23 without reading it. Being able to say the 23rd Psalm isn’t the fruit of laborious memorization. I’ve read it so many times I can’t help but know it by heart.
I’ve not just read the 23rd Psalm. I’ve lived it. This morning, I shared with the congregation one experience of living Psalm 23:5,6 in one appointment. A man in my congregation was not happy about having a female preacher. It wasn’t personal because he was mad about it before ever meeting me. But he didn’t stop with grousing about having a woman as a preacher. The better things went in the ministry of the church, the madder he got. He did everything he could to stir up criticism and opposition to me. He told lies about me and constantly looked for something to criticize. He sat in worship arms crossed on his chest with a frozen scowl on his face every Sunday. And, just as often, I lived the truth and beauty of the psalmist’s affirmation: “Thou prepares a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over.” Each Sunday, God gave me the gift of a message, the high calling of the ministry and a full cup of love and assurance.
Before I left the lunch after worship today, one man stopped me and asked me if that man in my sermon ever changed his mind. Although my pastoral life is filled with precious experiences where people (male and female) DID change their mind, this isn’t one of them. “No,” I said. “As far as I know, he never did stop opposing me.”
But, quickly, I realized that answer was incomplete. “The important thing is that his hard heart didn’t harden mine.” Was it hard to face the constant undermining, the relentless negative presence? Yes. Only God knows how deeply that hurt me. But God’s provisions were deeper. The ugliness of the other person didn’t turn into ugliness in my own heart. Even though he did not live up to his Christian commitment or his membership vows, I did not fail to extend Christ’s love to him or pray for him. The real danger of evil, as I see it, is that, in their pain, the patient, innocent wounded become like the very evil that hurt them.
This is precisely where the grace of God transforms. “Love your enemies”, Jesus teaches. “Pray for those who despitefully use you.” And, in excruciating pain, Jesus lived what he taught: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Just before He was about to be crucified, Jesus told his disciples, “In the world you will have tribulation, but do not be afraid. I have overcome the world.” When the resurrected Christ found disciples who had deserted and denied him, his first words were “Peace be with you.” Jesus lived out of the great resources of God’s love.
God’s Word doesn’t tell us that we will be exempt from the valley of the shadow of death or the presence of enemies. The consistent witness of Scripture is that the resources of faith are stronger than the harsh realities of the world. Are the disciples in a storm? Yes. But Jesus is with them. Are there enemies? Yes. But God prepares a table. Is there a valley of deepest darkness? Yes. But God’s presence fortifies against all fear. Over and over, God’s people are invited to turn to provisions of faith in the face of painful realities.
If the 9/11 remembrance brings forward any challenge to Christians, it is the teaching of Jesus to love our enemies. If the pain of 9/11 brings a danger, it is to let the hatred of others make us haters, too. If the national tragedy gives us a spiritual challenge, it is to be more compassionate than cynical, to be more faithful than fearful – to live out of the rich resources God offers instead of living out of the shallow responses of wounded hearts. “I will fear no evil…” Ancient words, but a great testimony for ever-new challenges in today’s world.