“I’ll Do It My Way”

Psalm 23

May 7, 2006

St.  Paul United Methodist Church of Little Rock

Reverend John Andrew Fleming

 

Bryan Gray came prepared for our staff meeting the other morning.  Perhaps I should clarify that.  Bryan comes prepared, I am sure, willing and ready for the things that we do and talk about at our bi-monthly staff meetings.  But the other morning, he brought something to our meeting that no one else thought of bringing.  It happened like this.  Every time that we have a staff meeting, we begin by reading the lesson that will be the basis for our sermon on the following Sunday.  I read it and then we talk about what it might mean for all of us.  So this past Tuesday morning, I read the familiar words of the twenty-third Psalm.  With a glimmer in his eye, Bryan reached into his briefcase and pulled out a book that he had just bought with a gift certificate given to him by one of his favorite pastors.  The book’s title is The Trouble with Poetry and Other Poems.  The author and poet is Billy Collins, the former poet laureate for the United States.

 

I don’t mind admitting to you that I am not a big fan of poetry.  During my junior high and high school days I tried to interpret poems written by some of the great poets, people like Emily Dickinson and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Robert Frost.  I tried to recognize things like iambic pentameter and to find hidden meanings in the words of these poets.  I also spent a good amount of time trying to compose my own poems.  I think that Dr. Seuss discovered something important when he used rhyming in his books.  The poems that I wrote can only be described with the adjective, pathetic!

 

I like Billy Collins’ style.  I have only read a couple of his poems and had a couple read to me, but so far there is no mystery behind what he’s trying to say.  I like that.  Bryan came across one of Billy’s latest poems, saw its’ connection with our scripture lesson for this morning, and read it to the staff.  The poem’s title is Flock.

 

Billy begins by quoting a statistic from a printing company resource.  The statistic is simply, “It has been calculated that each copy of the Gutenberg Bible...required the skins of three hundred sheep.”  That statistic is the motivation for Collins’ poems.  It reads, “I can see them squeezed into the holding pen behind the stone building where the printing press is housed, all of them squirming around to find a little room and looking so much alike.  It would be nearly impossible to count them all, and there is no telling which one will carry the news that the Lord is a shepherd, one of the few things they already know.  That’s it.  That’s the poem.  Maybe you can see why I like his style.

 

Listen to the last line again.  “It would be nearly impossible to count them all, and there is no telling which one will carry the news that the Lord is a shepherd, one of the few things they already know.”  My question for us this morning is whether or not it is something that we know.

 

Unquestionably, this Psalm is one of the world’s greatest gems.  Children learn it, even memorize it, early on, either at their mother’s knee or in the first grade Sunday School class.  It’s strength reassures the bereaved who gather to remember a loved.  Few are the memorial services where the verses are not printed on the worship bulletin.  It’s words are on the lips of those who are preparing to take their last breath.  I have used it, I have quoted the words of this Psalm in homes where someone is near death.  This psalm, though, should not be reserved for the memorial service or the death bed.  It’s words are powerful and can make the difference in our lives.

 

On one of the shelves in my study is Charles Allen’s thoughts on this Psalm.  Before he considers the first line of the Psalm, he tells of a man who once came to him for spiritual help.  The man was in business and had risen to the heights of his company.  He was not happy.  He was nervous and tense and worried.  He had many health problems.  As a last resort, the man’s doctor suggested that he see his pastor.  The two talked for a few minutes.  Charles Allen then did something that might not be a bad idea for us.  He prescribed the twenty-third Psalm.  The man  was to read it five times a day for seven days.  He was to read it carefully and slowly and deliberately, giving thought to each line of it.  Charles Allen was hopeful that after seven days of that, the man’s life would be better.  And it was.  It worked.  It may work for us, too.

 

Easily we could do a series of sermons with the words of this Psalm.  We could think about what it means to lie down in green pastures and to think about the power of rest.  We could think about being guided by still waters and think about the times when we have walked by an ocean or a stream and the comfort it brought.  We could think about the dark valleys and hear a sermon on the power of being comforted in those times.  We could think about a table being prepared in front of our enemies.  Today would be a good day for a sermon about a table.  Being anointed, cups running over, mercy and goodness following us all of our lives, any of these would be good sermons.

 

This morning, for some reason, I feel compelled to talk about being led down the right path.  I like the way that the Message, Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of the Bible puts the verse, “...and send me in the right direction.”  And send me in the right direction?  Hum.  That will preach.

 

The problem is that we often go in the wrong direction.  The right direction was clear.  All we had to do was to apologize, but instead we argued.  The right direction was easy.  All we had to do was to listen but we opened our mouths.  The right direction was right in front of us.  All that was involved was being patient.  We were not patient.  Instead we took control of the situation that now controls us.  The right way was easy.  All we had to do was to give God the situation.  Instead we took it ourselves and what we ended up with was a mess.  We say, “I don’t need advice!”  We shout out, “I can handle this myself!”  We exclaim, “I don’t need a shepherd, thank you very much!”  Really?

 

I’ll turn back to the staff meeting the other morning for something else.  Bryan was helpful again when he said, “If I need a shepherd, it means that the shepherd will lead me  place that I would not go on my own.”  I think that we prefer the advice of the great theologian, Frank Sinatra, who sang his theology, “I’ve lived a life that’s full.  I’ve traveled each and every highway; and more, much more than this, I did it my way!”

 

We tend to do the same.  Forget the easy way.  Forget the common way.  Forget the best way.  Forsake God’s way.  Let’s do it our way!

 

According to the Bible, that is precisely our problem.  Isaiah properly prophesies, “We have all wandered away like sheep; each of us has gone his own way.”  (Isaiah 53:6).

 

I know that we have a wonderful image of sheep.  Perhaps we ooh and aah when we see them.  They are not as great as they appear.  They aren’t the smartest of animals.  I am told that without the aid of a shepherd, a sheep will literally nibble his way lost.  A sheep will eat grass and look up and see that the flock is somewhere else.  So if given the chance, I would plea with David, “Couldn’t you, sir, have come up with a stronger image of the Lord?”  David, after all, had killed a giant with a small stone.  He had outrun Saul.  He had ruled a kingdom.  But when it came time to describe what God is like, he remembered his shepherding days.  He remembered how he lavished attention on the sheep day and night; he recalled how he slept by them and watched over them.  The way that he cared for the sheep reminded him of the way that God cares for us.  He rejoiced when he said the words, “The Lord is MY shepherd.  I am one of His sheep.”

 

I ran across a quiz for self-reliance the other day.  I wonder how you would do?  If you can control your moods, then you are self-reliant.  If you are never grumpy and if you are always upbeat, then you are self-reliant.  That doesn’t describe you?  Oh, okay.  How about this one?  Are you at peace with everyone?  Are all of your relationships as sweet as fudge?  No, how about this one?  Do you have any fears?  If you discovered a heart condition, would you say, “No problem!”  If the stock market crashed, would you say, “What’s for dinner?”  No, you say that that is not you?  How about this one?  There is no need for forgiveness in your life?  You have never cheated and you have never lied and you have never lied about cheating.  No?  So you have a few problems with your moods, with a few of your relationships; you have fears and faults.  Don’t you think that you could use a shepherd to help you down the right path?

 

When I was in seminary, one of my professors taught us to look at scripture in unusual ways.  He said that it would help us understand the lessons.  I ran across a strange version of the 23rd Psalm.  What would happen if it read like this?  “I am my own shepherd.  I am always in need I stumble from mall to mall seeking relief but not finding it I creep through the valley of the shadows and fall apart.  I fear everything from pesticides to power lines and I’m starting to act like my mother.  I go down to the weekly staff meeting and am surrounded by enemies.  I anoint my headache with extra-strength Tylenol My Jack Daniels runneth over.  Surely misfortune will follow me and I will struggle all the days of my life.”  Is that version reassuring?  Would it bring you comfort?  Would it be beloved like the version that we’ve memorized?  Of course not!

 

If we’re not careful we, too, will nibble ourselves lost.  We have the  tendency to separate ourselves from things of deep value.  Following this trail means that we’re busy and over worked and tired and by the time we look up, no one is there.  And though we have nibbled, we are starving for spiritual sustenance!

Sheep aren’t smart.  But they know the shepherd.  Billy Collins is right, “There is no telling which one will carry the news that the Lord is a shepherd, one of the few things they already know.”  Is it something that we know.  Max Lucado puts it well when he writes, “Why is it that we who need a shepherd resist him so?”  Let us pray.

 

(I would like to thank three persons for the inspiration and ideas and words for this sermon.  First, thanks to Bryan Gray for his bringing Billy Collins’ poem to our staff meeting and for his idea of what is required if we need a shepherd.  Second, I would like to thank Max Lucado for several ideas and some words in this sermon.  The self-reliance quiz and the version of the 23rd Psalm are from his writing on the 23rd Psalm.  Finally, let me thank Helen Stegall, on our staff.  Her ideas on focusing on things that are not of deep value and hungering for things that are was her idea.  I often talk with Helen about sermon possibilities.   Thanks Helen).