Don’t Fence Me In

Okay, I’m going to let you all in on one of my little embarrassing secrets.

You know, one of those moments where you find out that something you said or believed has been completely wrong for a very long time….and you end up playing it off as if you meant to be funny…..and not a complete idiot?

I realized something about one of the most famous scripture passages known to man. Well, let me be clear. I realized that I had misunderstood it ever since childhood.

Discovering this well into adulthood was, honestly, pretty humiliating. I mean, I didn’t catch my faulty beliefs until I already had three degrees from a seminary, which led me to feel pretty silly.

It felt a lot like the realization that you have been misunderstanding song lyrics for many years.

You know, songs where you know SOME of the words, but you also realize there are sections that just can’t be correct, even though you think you hear certain things?

For instance, here are some commonly misunderstood lyrics:

·       The Beatles song, “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” has a line that goes like this, “the girl with kaleidoscope eyes” that many people hear as, “the girl with colitis goes by.”

·       CCR’s “Bad Moon Rising” proclaims, “there’s a bad moon on the rise” that many hear as “there’s a bathroom on the right.” (which is useful information to have if one has to “go”).

And don’t even get me started on what I always thought that Manfred Mann was saying in, “Blinded by the Light!”

The point is……we can misunderstand things. It’s human, right?? C’mon…..stick with me here.

But my misunderstanding was not one where I mixed up the words, as much as that I misunderstood the meaning of the text. And not just any text, but one of the most famous. One that is read often. A chapter that has brought comfort to many in the midst of trials and sorrows.

I was confused about part of the 23rd Psalm.

Many of you know this Psalm and might even be able to quote it by heart. “The Lord is my Shepherd….I shall not want…..and you know the rest.”

And for many years…..and I mean this literally…..I completely misunderstood the message of that first line, and I believe the reason I got it wrong reflected my own fleshly mindset.

Okay, here is my confession.

For the longest time, when I heard the verse “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want” I honestly believed that it meant that God was a Shepherd that the writer did not want to have. That the writer of the Psalm recognized God wanted to shepherd him, but he didn’t want that. It was a reality the writer preferred to avoid. In my thinking, the writer wanted his freedom, and so God (as a Shepherd) interfered with that. He was the Shepherd that David did not WANT. He didn’t want the shepherd. He wanted to roam freely. To do his own sheep things. To wander the pastures without the shepherd reigning him in, controlling him, or restricting him.

And there were many years that this is how I viewed God; as the Shepherd that I did not WANT.

It wasn’t that I hated God or that I was angry with God. Neither were true. I knew about God. Believed in God. Respected God (in theory). And even, in some way, had a love for God.

But……He was the Shepherd I did not WANT.

I didn’t want Him to interfere with my freedom. I didn’t want Him to tell me where I could go or what I could do. I mean, I liked the idea of Him watching over me, but only if He didn’t pry. Only if He observed from a distance and only intervened if I was in trouble. Other than those times, I didn’t WANT the Shepherd. I wanted to roam! To be free! To frolic through the pastures of life, exploring and pushing the limits.

All of this is true. I REALLY believed that was what the scripture meant.

Recently, I admitted this to a friend of mine, believing that it was a common misconception. She looked at me as if I were kidding and then, when she realized I wasn’t, she broke out into a disbelieving laugh…….more of a chortle really. She could not believe that I thought that. (Needless to say, empathy may not be her strong suit)

Of course, at a certain point, I had a light bulb moment where my denseness was revealed and I suddenly realized that the writer of the Psalm meant that the Lord was a Shepherd and, therefore, he had everything he needed. That the Shepherd took care of him as a sheep. That he didn’t need to worry. That he didn’t lack anything he needed.

And when this revelation became clear to me, I felt both very stupid and deeply relieved.

The Shepherd doesn’t want to ruin our fun. He is not a Shepherd who restricts us in order to quench the joy out of living. No…..He is a Shepherd who loves us and wants to take care of us. He provides for us physically, emotionally, spiritually. He is there when we are sick or hurting. He protects the flock from predators and is there to comfort them if they stray and are injured.

The Shepherd is not a cosmic “killjoy.”

He is a lover of the flock.

But in my younger years, I viewed Him as more of a dictator, or a judge. A Shepherd who was always looking for a sheep to stray so He could whack it on the head and get it back in line. Or….if a sheep drifted, the Shepherd would really “rub it in” if the sheep were injured because of drifting. Part of me saw the Shepherd as someone who “thwarted” my desire to be free, rather than a loving Father who wanted me safe in His care.

And in those years where I drifted from the flock, I learned the hard way that this kind of “freedom” isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Sure, straying from the flock leads to many discoveries that tickle the senses. There is much beauty when a sheep strays. But there’s a catch to wandering. First, the beauty one finds “out there” is no more beautiful than it was when he was with the flock. Not really. And the beauty one does find is often fleeting, as all earthly beauty is.

But one doesn’t really expect how much danger comes from wandering. Predators……steep cliffs…….disease……..the loneliness of wandering alone in an unpredictable world. The sheep that doesn’t “want” the Shepherd always gets hurt in some way. Always. Maybe not at first, but eventually. A sheep that doesn’t “want” the Shepherd wanders alone and is always at risk.

I learned that lesson repeatedly.

Ironically, it was after all that wandering that I not only learned to “want” the Shepherd, but it dawned on me what “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want” really means.

It doesn’t mean the sheep will never stumble, will never be injured. It doesn’t mean the sheep aren’t exposed to disease or that predators won’t attack. It doesn’t even mean that the sheep isn’t at risk. It just means that he can count on a Shepherd who cares, and who will be there through it all.

It means there is a Shepherd who offers to walk every journey with that sheep, and who will provide for the sheep in every way.

Most of all, the sheep can feel loved and secure.

Maybe the misunderstanding was never really about grammar at all. Maybe it was about the condition of my heart. Because there really was a season where I did not WANT the Shepherd. I wanted the gifts without the guidance. Protection without surrender. Comfort without trust. I wanted someone to rescue me when I fell into the ditch, but I didn’t want anyone telling me not to wander near the edge in the first place.

But time has a way of exposing the illusion of wandering alone. Eventually, the open fields don’t feel as freeing as they once did. The cliffs get steeper. The nights get colder. The predators feel closer. And somewhere along the journey, the soul begins to realize that what it once called “freedom” often looked a lot more like loneliness.

These days, when I hear “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want,” I no longer hear restriction. I hear relief. I hear rest. I hear the voice of a Shepherd who does not delight in controlling the sheep, but in caring for them. A Shepherd who walks with wounded wanderers and gently leads them home.

And perhaps the greatest miracle of all is this:
that over time, the sheep who once did not WANT the Shepherd slowly begins to realize…that the Shepherd is exactly what he has wanted all along.