A Day in the Life
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters.” — Psalm 23:1–2
When I read Psalm 23, I do not merely see poetic comfort; I see a portrait of how Jesus lived and how He invites me to live. David’s confession, “The Lord is my shepherd,” uses the covenant name of God—YHWH. This is not distant deity language; it is relational, personal, committed. The Hebrew verb ḥāsēr in “I shall not want” means “to lack” or “to be deficient.” David is not claiming abundance of possessions but sufficiency of care. In the life of Jesus, that sufficiency is embodied. In John 10:11, Jesus declares, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” He does not simply guide; He gives Himself.
As I walk with you through this day, I find myself asking the same questions raised in our study. Do I truly trust my Shepherd? Trust is easy to affirm in worship but harder to practice in uncertainty. Sheep, by nature, are dependent creatures. They do not navigate terrain alone; they rely entirely on the shepherd’s awareness of danger, nourishment, and timing. The biblical shepherd knew the grasses that would nourish and the weeds that would poison. He understood water sources that refreshed and those that carried disease. In the same way, Jesus knows what feeds my soul and what drains it. Yet how often do I wander toward what looks appealing but proves empty?
Charles Spurgeon once wrote, “It is the sheep’s safety that the shepherd is near.” That simple sentence reshapes my anxiety. The promise of green pastures and still waters is not primarily about scenery but about proximity. The Hebrew phrase mei menuchot—“waters of rest”—suggests not merely calm water but restorative quiet. Jesus often withdrew to solitary places to pray (Luke 5:16). Even in His earthly ministry, the Shepherd modeled the rhythm of being led by the Father. If the Son of God rested in divine guidance, how much more should I?
There is also a subtle warning in Psalm 23. If I find myself “wanting,” if dissatisfaction marks my spirit, perhaps my focus has drifted from the Shepherd to what the Shepherd provides. I have learned that discontent often reveals misplaced expectation. I may believe that God is withholding something necessary for my joy. Yet Scripture consistently portrays Him as generous. James 1:17 reminds me, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above.” The issue is rarely His provision; it is my perception. Am I craving what the world markets, or am I cultivating gratitude for what my Shepherd knows is best?
In the life of Jesus, we see absolute trust. He faced hunger in the wilderness yet refused to turn stones into bread at the enemy’s suggestion. He entrusted His needs to the Father’s timing. He faced rejection and sorrow yet remained anchored in obedience. Living like a sheep under His care means surrendering the illusion of self-sufficiency. It means acknowledging that my Shepherd’s path, though sometimes narrow, leads to life. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer insightfully observed, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” That dying includes relinquishing control over what I believe I must have to be content.
So today, I ask myself—and I gently ask you—where has your gaze shifted? Are you more attentive to the pasture than to the Shepherd? Have you allowed worry to whisper that God is late or indifferent? The psalmist’s confidence was not naïve optimism; it was covenant conviction. The Shepherd’s nature is to care, to guide, to protect, and even to lay down His life. In Jesus, that promise reaches its fullest expression. The cross is the ultimate green pasture—proof that our deepest need has already been met.
If you long to deepen your trust in Christ as Shepherd, this article from The Gospel Coalition offers thoughtful reflection: https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/psalm-23-jesus-good-shepherd/
As we continue in this day, perhaps during this Lenten season or any sacred time of reflection, let us practice the discipline of returning. When anxiety rises, return to Him. When dissatisfaction stirs, return to Him. When temptation entices, return to Him. The joy of discipleship is not found in controlling the terrain but in following the One who knows it completely. Living like a sheep under His watchful care may seem countercultural, but it brings an insightful peace that the world cannot manufacture.
The Shepherd is not withholding from you. He is leading you.
FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE, AND REPOST, SO OTHERS MAY KNOW