Lessons from Psalm 23 - David's Confidence

“Even when I walk through the valley of deep darkness,

I will fear no evil…”

Psalm 23:4

Psalm 23 is what biblical scholars call a song of confidence.

We all need a song of confidence sometimes.  Because we all encounter trials, we all face fears, and we all find ourselves in places and moments where deep darkness seems to drown out every ray of hope.  Those places where plans and dreams fade to black, where everything we thought we knew, both present and future, is up for grabs.

What will you do when your greatest fear looks you in the eye?  When words you never wanted to hear reach your ears, how will you respond?  Will you cope?  Or will you crumble?  Will you have a faith that stands?

Six weeks ago, a diagnosis delivered in the tight confines of a doctor’s office gave birth to my greatest fear.  The possibility of losing my wife looked me in the eye and refused to blink.  On March 15, 2012, my wife Heather was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer in her right eye.  My wife.  My best friend.  My partner in family and life and ministry.  Melanoma.  Cancer. 

For a few lingering, slow-motion moments, I was ok.  I told myself it would be ok.  I gave her a reassuring look.  And then more words came.  Words like “chest scans” and “liver function.”  I knew what they meant.  I’d been down this road before.  My knees went weak.  My head got light.  I needed to sit down.  This couldn’t be happening.  Not her.  Not now.  Not like this.

You see, for my family, cancer has been the bully in the schoolyard for the past 15 years.  Occasionally he moves on and picks on someone else, but not before he has left broken hearts and shattered dreams in his wake, claiming the lives of people we love.  He is heartless and care-less.  He doesn’t limit his territory to dark alleys or the wrong part of town.  His patterns are unpredictable.  He doesn’t give a rip about character or karma.  He finds you in your bed at night, and refuses to relent in spite of the day.  As far as I’m concerned, if Jesus is the image of the invisible God (and He is), then cancer is the image of our invisible enemy – coming only to steal, kill and destroy.

David and I (and likely you) have something in common.  We both know a place called the valley of deep darkness.[1]  That place where looming darkness attempts to drown out hope.  I don’t know what David’s valley was.  My guess is that he had many such valleys.  Cancer is my valley of deep darkness.

Yet David and I have something else in common: a tested and proven confidence in God.  I love David’s declaration of confidence in Psalm 23 verse four. “I will fear no evil.”  David would have tweeted it like this:  “I. Will. Fear. No. Evil. #Confidence #Steadfastness.”  In the face of darkness - the thickest darkness.[2]  In the face of fear – perhaps his greatest fear.  Confidence in God.  Don’t you want that?  Who wouldn’t want that?!? 

We would do well to locate the source of such confidence.  David reveals it in two Hebrew words.  We require three to translate to English, but they are broken up like this: “You.  With me.”  The reason for David’s confidence in the face of evil, in the face of fear and in the midst of darkness:  “You.  With me.”  When he couldn’t see God.  When he couldn’t feel God.  He still knew that God was “with him.”

David’s statement reveals an important spiritual truth:  Past faithfulness builds future confidence.  A good friend of mine[3] shared that in a sermon more than five years ago and I remember it to this day.  Not because the words are profound, but because the truth of it is - as I have witnessed time and time again.

  Past faithfulness builds future confidence.  The past faithfulness of God builds future confidence in us.  By experiencing the loving care of our Shepherd through daily life as well as times of trial, we know that He will care for and sustain us whatever may come our way.  It is a confidence borne out of experience.

Hebrew scholars tell us that David’s verse of confidence – “I will fear no evil, for you are with me” – is the apex or peak of his song of confidence.  That means that everything in the psalm flows up to it or down from it. 

David knew God’s faithfulness – and he makes this clear in the beginning of the psalm.  When he could find no place to rest, God was a pasture of cool green grass where he could lay down in safety.  When the threats of his enemies echoed in his ears, the reassuring voice of God was as the sounds of soothing waters.  And when his soul approached the breaking point, the Good Shepherd was faithful to bring restoration – in Hebrew, to “give life back” to his weary soul.

The psalmist’s words in Psalm 71 are so relevant here.

“For you, O Lord, are my hope,

my trust, O Lord, from my youth…

You who have made me see many troubles 

and calamities will revive me again.”  

 (Psa 71: 5,20)

Past faithfulness built future confidence for David.  And God's past faithfulness builds future confidence for us as well.

The confidence you need today is found in the faithfulness of God in all of your yesterdays.

Author's note:  You can find information and updates regarding Heather's condition on her Caring Bridge site...  http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/heatherhawks

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[1] Many translations have the phrase “valley of the shadow of death,” however the word “death” is not there in the original Hebrew text.  A more literal translation is “valley of deep darkness” or “valley of thick darkness.”  Tradition is the primary reason that “valley of the shadow of death” continues to be a popular reading. The fact that the word for darkness here is the strongest possible Hebrew word for darkness leads some to conclude that David must have had death in mind.

[2] The word for darkness here is the strongest possible Hebrew word for darkness.  In Job 28:3 it is used for the darkness of a mineshaft – the kind of darkness where you can’t see your hand in front of your face.

[3] Credit for this memorable phrase goes to my good friend and faithful brother in Christ, Steven Bronston.

Drilling Deeper: Humility

And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said,“Truly I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” Jesus in Matt 18:2,3

Faith.  Trust.  Peace.  Power.  Compassion.  Many outstanding attributes of character marked the life and ministry of Jesus.  But one stood at the center, serving as the catalyst for the rest: humility.

Humility.  Jesus lived it and modeled it as the one who came not to be served, but to serve.  He preached it to his disciples as a prerequisite for those who would enter the Kingdom.  Paul held it up as the path to glory for Jesus and a key to living within the body of Christ.

So, what is humility?

I have heard many definitions and reminders of humility.  I’ve even taught some of them.  One common saying goes like this: “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, it is thinking of yourself less.”  This is practical and even helpful, but I’m afraid it doesn’t go deep enough. It is a practical reminder of brotherly love – which is the fruit of humility – but it doesn’t drill down to the core of what humility is.  Fortunately, Jesus does.

In Matthew 18, Jesus addresses his disciples.  Interestingly, he chooses to put a child in their midst as a model of humility.  Did I read that right?  Jesus put a child in their midst as a model of what?  Humility? And then he says this: “Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” [Matt 18:4]

  Unless children were different in Jesus’ day, he certainly didn’t have that earlier saying about humility in mind when he chose a child as his architectural blueprint.

I know this because I have four children.  And I have been living with these creatures for almost fourteen years now. “…Thinking of yourself less?”  Is that typical of children?  Not the ones I know and love.  They think of themselves first when it comes to almost everything – where they sit in the car, who gets to play the game, who gets to go first, who gets to go at all.  It’s me, myself and I.  And every “I” for himself.

So what did Jesus have in mind when it came to children and humility?  How can we “turn and become like children?”  I think back to the days after our firstborn – Elizabeth – came into the world.  I remember one moment like it was yesterday.  I was holding this tiny, five-pound baby in my arms, looking into her sweet little face, when a monumental reality hit me: I was the only father she had.  In that moment, two things became sharply apparent: my responsibility and her dependency. 

For the next few years, she would depend on the love, care and compassion of others for her very survival.  She was born with two hands, but they were empty hands. Empty hands that could do nothing – for herself or anyone else.  Empty hands with nothing to offer.  Whether she knew it or not, she was desperate.

Jesus said that turning and becoming like children was a requirement for entering the kingdom.  So how do we become like children?  We stand before God with empty hands.  Empty hands that have let go of everything we thought we had to offer:  pride, self-reliance, performance, good character or anything else.  Realizing that, in and of ourselves, we have nothing to offer; nothing to commend ourselves to God, other than complete dependence upon him.  We stand with empty hands.

The authors of We Would See Jesus describe this key to entering the Kingdom so well:

“Grace permits us to come (nay, demands that we come) as empty sinners to be blessed: empty of right feelings, good character and satisfactory record, with nothing to commend ourselves but our deep need, fully and frankly acknowledged… The struggle, of course, is to believe it and to be willing to be but empty sinners to the end of our days, that grace may continue to match our needs.”

Did you notice that word “struggle”?  The “struggle” to be “willing to be but empty sinners to the end of our days.”  Oh, how true it is – even in the Christian life.  We start out with empty hands before God and then, before we even realize it, we have begun to pick things up and hold them in our hands: good works, good character, changed lives.  We think we have become something.  We think that we have something to offer.  Something to offer God and others.  That’s called pride – the chief nemesis of humility!

Ironic isn’t it?  That the very fruit of God’s work in our lives can become a barrier to true fellowship with him?

It’s time to take a look at our hands.

Young or old.  Rich or poor.  New believer or mature Christian.  All must approach God the same way – every day – with empty hands.