Psalm 23

Written at 11:14 on February 11, 2023, in Jeffrey’s Baai, South Africa.

On the twenty-first of January, a foggy Saturday morning. I found my patience with the Lord slowly waning. A spiritual discipline that once came easy to me, meeting the Lord in silence and solitude, all the sudden failed to bring fruit. The voice of the Lord was silent, his presence seemed far off and my soul was searching for relief in a barren desert. Where are you? I cried out. It was as if I went home only to find out that all of the rooms were empty, and that no one was in the house to cure this present homesickness.

The next evening, guitar in hand, I walked to the same place by the pond and sat on the soft grass overlooking the pasture. I strummed chords, crying out the name “Yahweh.” Simply breathing his name is worship alone. I laid on my back in the grass watching the sparrows drift across the sky, when Psalm 23 came to mind:

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He Leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.”

As I laid in the meadow by the water, I realized that even if I don’t hear the Lord’s voice quickly and clearly in a moment, I continue to be in his presence, forever and always.

Then, I heard a voice shouting: “Have you seen this?”

Startled, I sat up and turned around, to be met by a man standing in the midst of the garden a dozen yards behind me. “I’m sorry?” I replied. “Have you seen this,” he repeated. I stood from my place in the grass and cautiously walked towards him, my feet bare. “Watch your step and mind the thorns, come this way,” he spoke as he guided me to the gate. We walked through the rows of flowers and vegetation in the garden all the way to the end, to a column of soil dedicated to several small sprouts of plants. The Gardener called me over to show me the beginning stages of his maize crop, his face beaming with pride. He planted it himself and told me by the time I leave Jeffreys Bay, it will stand quite taller than the both of us and provide a bountiful harvest. Then, The Gardener left, and I stood there barefoot in the garden, gazing at those small sprouts before me.

How beautiful it was that he invited me into something the Lord gave him to steward and that I got to share his joy and excitement for things yet to come. Even though I couldn’t understand how that small plant would grow so big in such a short amount of time, I was so very expectant. I laid back in my spot in the grass, and the Lord gifted me with the following revelation:

“In Cambodia, I told you this season would be defined by the word ‘growth.’ Winter has passed, and spring is coming. With growth comes growing pains, and I will stretch you in new ways, I will speak to you in new ways, and you will hear from me in new ways. I will use you in new ways, and it will be painful, yet you will adjust, you will grow, and the harvest will be plentiful. Your growth stems from your dependence on me.”

The Lord has spoken to me in new ways over the past week and a half. He has used me in ways I couldn’t have drawn up for myself and I have yet to understand. I can’t wait to see how I continue to grow, what he will do, and how he will move!

A Reflection, here and now as I post this draft:

As the time in South Africa came to a close, I would frequently return to the garden and monitor the progress of the maize crop. Sure enough by the end, the maize stood taller than I. It was the fruit and gifts from my time in Eastern Cape that would serve to be used in Central America in the coming months.