My typical January read-through-last-year's-journal routine brought me to this little meditation on Psalm 23 from last spring.
God, you are my shepherd,
I lack nothing at all.
You give me green pastures for my bed,
fertile and fresh,
sweet-smelling and beautiful.
You lead me beside still waters,
waters of peace,
waters of rest,
waters of life,
life to drink deeply.
You restore my soul,
refresh my life,
revive my strength,
rebuild my hope,
renew my joy.
You lead me on the right path,
although I could so easily stray
to paths of destruction,
paths of death.
You do all this to prove
(to me and to all who see me)
that you are who you say you are.
In the deepest valley,
in the darkest night,
there is absolutely nothing for me to be afraid of,
because you are with me,
never disdaining the needs of my heart.
You guide me with a touch,
you scoop me out of danger,
and this both protects and comforts me
because I know that you are near,
that I will never walk alone.
God, you are my generous host.
You welcome me – me!
to a feast carefully prepared.
Though I should serve you,
you treat me as an honored guest.
And this isn't basic sustenance you're feeding me,
bread and water to get me by –
No, you lavish your goodness on me,
my cup brimming up and spilling over –
and how could it ever run dry when the feast is you,
my infinite, glorious God?
And so I have no doubt that your goodness,
your unfailing love,
will chase me down every day of my life,
reminding me that I'm welcome here,
reminding me that I'm safe here,
reminding me when I search
for crumbs from other tables
that this is where I belong.
I have no doubt,
because that's how you have pursued me so far,
and I know that I will live in your home
and always return to your arms
for as long a life
as you give me.