(Read Psalm 112)
There have been times lately when I’ve been overwhelmed. Not by one singular crisis, but by the sum total weight of ordinary life. Time constraints that leave little room to breathe. Financial shortfalls that linger longer than expected. Being stretched thin by responsibilities that don’t pause simply because I’m tired. Health concerns for people I love that sit quietly in the background of my thoughts. Add to these the everyday worries that follow me from morning to night, and it becomes clear how easily my inner world can grow heavy.
Then, recently, God winked at me.
It wasn’t dramatic or spectacular. There was no booming voice or sudden revelation. It was a simple, steady truth that surfaced in the middle of my anxious thoughts: “You have Me.” That was all. And somehow, it was enough. In that moment, I realized—or perhaps God helped me realize—that I don’t have to do any of this alone. None of it. Not the decisions. Not the pressure. Not the waiting. Not the uncertainty.
For those who believe, there is always hope, comfort, and a divine purpose at work, even when it’s hidden from view. When family members, friends, or we ourselves are walking through difficulty, we are never abandoned. We live under the promises of the great Promise Keeper, and His promises do not expire when life becomes complicated.
That realization led me to a question that has stayed with me: What if I tried living without assuming I have to handle everything myself? What if I stopped treating God as a resource of last resort rather than the steady presence He already is? What if I tried life without the illusion of self-sufficiency?
Psalm 23 gently invites us into that posture.
A psalm of David.
The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,
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 your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.
Psalm 23
David begins the Psalm with a declaration that sets the tone.
“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.” This is not a statement of material abundance. It is a confession of trust. In the ancient world, a shepherd’s responsibility was total. He provided food, water, direction, protection, and rest. Sheep did not evaluate the terrain or plan the route. They followed the shepherd’s voice.
When David says he lacks nothing, he is framing his relationship, not his circumstances. The sufficiency comes from who God is, not from what life provides.
“He makes me lie down in green pastures.” This line suggests something we often overlook. Sheep do not lie down easily. They must feel secure, unthreatened, and provided for. The shepherd creates those conditions. Sometimes rest is not something we choose; it is something God gives, even when we resist it.
“He leads me beside quiet waters.” Still waters were essential for sheep. Fast-moving water frightened them. This image speaks to God’s attentiveness to our limitations. He does not drive us into places where we cannot drink deeply. He leads us where our souls can be replenished.
“He refreshes my soul.” The Hebrew language here implies restoration—bringing something back to its original state. God does not simply patch us up. He restores what has been worn down by fear, pressure, and fatigue.
“He guides me along the right paths for His name’s sake.” God’s guidance is not random. It is rooted in His character. His name—His reputation, His faithfulness—is bound up in how He leads His people.
Then comes the line we often reserve for crisis moments: “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” Notice that the valley is not avoided. Faith does not bypass difficulty. What changes is the experience of it. God’s presence transforms how we walk through darkness. The rod and staff, tools of protection and guidance, become sources of comfort rather than fear.
Psalm 23 reminds us that God is not an accessory to life. He is the Shepherd at the center of it.
That same center holds another promise in Psalm 112.
Blessed are those who fear the Lord, who find great delight in His commands. Their children will be mighty in the land; the generation of the upright will be blessed.
Psalm 112:1-2
The “fear of the Lord” is often misunderstood. It is not terror or dread. It is reverent trust. It is ordering one’s life around the reality of who God is. Those who live with that posture receive His blessing as the natural outcome of alignment with God’s ways.
Psalm 112 expands the vision beyond the individual. Faithfulness has a generational impact. The upright life shapes children, families, and communities. God’s blessing flows outward, touching more than the person who first receives it.
J.D. Greear pointed out that this theme of a God-centered life reappears in the Christmas story through an unexpected group of people.
The wise men were not Jewish believers. They were outsiders—astrologers, scholars, seekers from afar. Yet God revealed Himself to them through providential signs. When they saw the star, Matthew tells us, “they rejoiced with exceeding great joy.” The King James Version captures the moment with remarkable intensity: joy stacked upon joy upon joy.
Their response was immediate and humble. When they arrived at the house and saw the child with Mary, they fell down and worshiped. These were men of status and learning, yet they bowed low. They opened their treasures and gave gifts fit for a king. Their joy was not restrained or polite. It overflowed.
This moment reminds us that recognition of God’s work leads to worship. When we truly see what God is doing, the natural response is humility, generosity, and joy.
All of this brings us to a truth Paul articulates in Romans 8:28:
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.
Romans 8:28
This verse does not claim that all things are good. It proclaims that God is at work in all things. God stands at the center of reality, weaving even broken threads into His redemptive design.
As the objects of His love, we receive goodness, protection, reassurance, confidence, light, direction, and hope—not always immediately, not always visibly, but always faithfully.
So perhaps the invitation is this: Try it without the illusion that you are alone. Try it without assuming the burden is yours to carry. Try it knowing God is neither distant nor disengaged. Try it as though you were not in control—and God is.
Try it with the Shepherd leading.
Try it with reverent trust.
Try it with joy that bows low in worship.
Try it with confidence that God is already at work.
You have Him. And that changes everything.