He Maketh Me to Lie Down

He Maketh Me to Lie Down

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;

He leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul.

The soothing words of the 23^rd Psalm come to my mind often, especially in times of difficulty.   As I reflected on these timeless words this week, the word “maketh” jumped out at me.  The shepherd has to make his sheep lie down.  They won’t do this on their own.  As much as they need green pastures and still waters, they depend on the shepherd to make them stop and rest. 

There is an old saying that God has to put us on our back before we look up.  Yes, we are stubborn and we get so busy with the demands of life that we have to be made to stop and rest and find nourishment for our souls.

I am not suggesting that God created this COVID crisis to teach us a lesson.  But it is true that the greatest lessons of life are learned when we are forced to stop, slow down, and lie down in the green pastures. 

I’m reading an excellent book by one of my favorite authors and esteemed Presidential historian, Doris Kearns Goodwin, titled: Leadership in Turbulent Times.  The book is focused on four great American Presidents who exhibited strong and exceptional leadership in turbulent times:  Abraham Lincoln, Theodore Roosevelt, Franklin Roosevelt, and Lyndon Johnson.  

She highlights the common traits of leadership that they all shared and traces the development of these characteristics in their lives.  All four of these great leaders went through a traumatic time of personal crisis that prepared them for the later national crises they would each face.  

Abraham Lincoln went through a time of depression so severe that his friends had to hide knives and weapons from him because they were afraid he would hurt himself.  Theodore Roosevelt experienced the tragic death of his wife after the birth of their first child, Alice, and his mother died the same day in the same house.  He spiraled into a profound grief.  Franklin Roosevelt was crippled with Polio in the prime of his life and his family and friends felt that his public life was over.  He worked for years to overcome his personal depression and strengthen his diseased body.  Lyndon Johnson, the hyperactive and powerful majority leader of the Senate, suffered a near-fatal heart attack that resulted in months of convalescence and a personal and spiritual transformation.       

       

You can say that that the greatest characteristics of leadership that guided our nation through some of its most perilous times were formed when these future Presidents were made to “lie down.”  

       

There is no question that the COVID crisis has forced all of us to pause, to “lie down,” and reflect.  I know we are all anxious for life to get back to normal. We want to come back to church, to sing, to fellowship, to worship together.  But the good shepherd is making us “to lie down in the green pastures.”

       

I pray we will use this time to listen, to look up, to be renewed in mind and spirit.  I went back almost two decades to another time we were all forced to stop as a nation.  The week after 9/11, I wrote these words:

Have you noticed how the world has changed since September 11?  The haze has lifted and we see the world in a different light.  Now we see clearly the important things of life—the value of relationships, the priority of family, the significance of devoting our time and energy to lasting endeavors.

 I listen as the birds call out to one another.  Most of the time, I just hear birds.  Today, however, I listen closely and realize that each bird has a distinctive sound.  Every human is unique, individual and distinctive—like the birds. 

I listen and watch the birds as they sing their individual songs.  Yet, they have found a way to live together in peace.  They do not fight and destroy each other.  There is room in God’s forest for all of the birds.  Is there not enough room in God’s world for all of us?  Listen to the birds and learn from them. 

          

Defining the Defining Event

I stood before our high school graduates on June 7 at our annual Baccalaureate Service.  Our church is normally filled for this celebratory Sunday with teary-eyed parents, doting grandparents, smiling friends, and a proud church family.  The graduates are beaming as they march into the sanctuary while cameras and phones record the happy scene.  But last Sunday all of the graduates wore masks and the sanctuary was empty, except for immediate families who were social distanced. 

I shared with the graduates that every generation has a defining event.  The question is whether we allow the event to define us, or do we define it.  I talked about the Great Depression being the defining event for my grandparents, the Second World War for my parents, and the Civil Rights movement for my generation.  The masked graduates left no doubt as the defining event of their generation.

These young graduates actually have more than one life-defining issue on their shiny new plates.  They are not only graduating in the midst of a health pandemic, but also in the midst of a moral and ethical pandemic.  Over half a century after my generation wrestled with Civil Rights, we are still waiting for the day when people will be judged by the content of their character, rather than by the color of their skin.  

As people of faith we are grounded in the Judeo-Christian tradition that believes in the dignity and worth of every human being.   Genesis announces that God made humanity in his own image, after his likeness.  The Psalmist proclaims that humanity has been created a little lower than the angels and crowned with glory and honor.  The Apostle Paul wrote that before the foundation of the world we were destined in love to be the children of God.   

Scripture also teaches us that we have distorted God’s magnificent creative order.  We have all sinned and fallen short of his glory.  One of the greatest sins is to disparage others and claim a false superiority over other human beings, denying them the dignity and respect they deserve as children of God.  

Slavery was justified by a horrible perversion of Scripture with ludicrous claims that the “Mark of Cain” and the “Curse of Ham” resulted in the servitude of the black race.  

Racism is grounded in the belief that all human beings are not created equal.  The theme of the last protest march led by Dr. Martin Luther King in 1968 was simply, “I Am a Man.”  The words plead for equality and respect.   Fifty-two years later the words, “I Can’t Breathe,” echo the same plea.  

The ancient prophet Micah condensed all of life and religion into three beautiful mantras:  Do Justice, Love Kindness, and Walk Humbly with your God. 

But what does walking humbly with God look like?   It’s doing justice and loving kindness.  Justice is founded on the equality of every human being.  Kindness is when we make it so.  

We can begin by treating others with dignity and respect, especially those who are different or with whom we disagree.  Hurling insults at others has become status quo in our society and that in itself creates an atmosphere for racism to thrive.

I told the graduates last Sunday that the greatness of America will never be found in “Trash Talking.”  But the greatness of America will be found in compassion, understanding, reconciliation, forgiveness and mercy.  America becomes great when we lift up the weak and bridge the gaps of inequality.  America becomes great when we welcome the stranger and share in the goodness of our land.  America becomes great when we treat everyone with kindness and respect and when we love one another as Christ has loved us.  

The defining event of a generation usually defines that generation.  My hope is that these young people who are embarking on their life’s journey, will not be defined by these perilous times, but they will define the times by transforming the darkness of our world into the light of hope and the promise of a new day.