I’ve been thinking a whole lot recently about Psalm 23. Mostly I’ve been thinking about that famous opening line: “The LORD is my Shepherd.” It’s a great and comforting thought, especially when you are looking into the future and making decisions. It speaks of guidance and care and protection and, even more than all those, the presence of the Shepherd with us. That has been very encouraging.
But in the last day or so I’ve been thinking about another part of it. Sometimes familiar passages don’t have the impact upon us that they should just because they are familiar. I think that has happened with me in this psalm. The line I mean is from verse 6: “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.”
Goodness and mercy? Or, I really should say, Mercy and goodness? In my thinking about God I usually focus most on his mercy extended toward me in Christ. That is: I don’t get the penalty I deserve for all the wicked, evil, despicable, heinous, nasty, vile, selfish things I do and have done. No, Jesus took all that upon himself as my substitute, and he saved me from the wrath that I’ve earned with all my sins. And I praise him for that. It’s simply incredible.
But it doesn’t stop there, and this part is hard for me to think about. God not only promises to spare me from his just wrath, but even more to show me goodness. This is even more incredible. It reminds me of the parable of the prodigal son (another familiar passage) in Luke 15. Not only did the father in the story not punish his son for his sins, but even more, he showed him goodness by throwing a party for him—a celebration, a feast! Sometimes I get to be like that prodigal son. I do humble myself and admit my faults to the Father. But what I really expect is a frown and a place to sleep in the servant’s quarters. I don’t expect the signet ring and robe and sandals. And I surely don’t expect the fatted calf. I don’t expect to be treated like a son in God’s house.
I’m challenged by all these thoughts and spurred to praise God even more for the generous love he has showered down upon me. I realize that my mental image, when I think of him, has to change. I can’t see the frowning face I imagine must be there. No, I must see the exuberant love in shining, smiling eyes and widespread, welcoming arms. I must smell the feast and hear the music. I must learn to rejoice in the goodness of the Lord.
