Telling the Shepherds Story

Acts 2 presents an almost utopian view of life in the early church. The people lived together and shared everything. They worshipped together, they ate together, they lived simply. No one lacked for anything, and everybody got along. It sounds a lot like the first week of college dorm life. But check back in again around sports finals time, and you might hear a very different story! This passage lends itself to some thoughtful critique of culture: our fierce individualism, rampant consumerism, and era of (often self-imposed) isolation.

The church really needs to be asking hard questions about the ways in which Christians support and enable these systems. The Twenty-Third Psalm can seem almost rote. It might be the only passage that many have memorised as children, and you can almost bet on it being part of any funeral. I think it’s been in 90% of funerals I have taken. What if we were to reframe this popular verse in a way that would allow people to hear it in a fresh way? Now I found a very good and challenging rewrite which follows.

This rewrite, “Psalm 23-and-a-half” includes the original text, but draws it out to place the “What is” alongside the “what could be.” It could be used as a prayer, a transitional text, or part of your own reflection:

The Lord is my shepherd,

whether I like it or not.

I shall not want.

Except for a bigger house, a nicer car, a slimmer waistline;

a newer device, a little more power;

and to always, always, every day, be right about everything.

He makes me lie down in green pastures

as the world greys with concrete

and browns with toxic fumes and bleeds with violence and rage.

He leads me beside still waters

even though I pull away, and make a run for the choppy sea

of my own thoughts, complaints, and addictions.

He restores my soul, from its own self-inflicted wounds.

He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake . . .

For his name’s sake, even as I celebrate with my own signature.

 Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil;

even as I log on, tune in,

and worship at the altar of fearful story that we call news.

For you are with me; even as the world spins into chaos,

crippled by the hatred of other, your rod and your staff— they comfort me.

They tell me a better story, and call me back to your side.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies

And ask only that I sit and dine with them.

You anoint my head with oil;

And call me to live a life worthy of this benediction.

My cup overflows with sorrow, with remorse, with gratitude.

Because for all my selfish, wandering, fearful, and faithless ways,

I know that Goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,

Even now. Even on the worst day, the worst week, the worst moment

Of the created, human world.

And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long,

Singing a new song,

And telling the Shepherd’s story into the darkness.