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The story goes that a little girl thought the first verse of the 23rd Psalm went like this: "The Lord is my shepherd: that's all I want." Her personal translation is not so far off. When we have God, we have all we need. And the psalm celebrates that fact. I shall not want. I won't lack anything. My life will be rich and full, because the Lord is my shepherd. It will be rich in spirit—full of the kinds of things the 23rd Psalm celebrates—green pastures, pure waters, a table full of food, cups running over. But notice, there's also a transition in here. Yes, the Lord provides plenty of the good things of earth—the promised land flows with milk and honey—but there's also the spiritual side. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness. Goodness and mercy shall pursue me all the days of my life. Spiritual things. He's a good one. We might imagine some shepherds were not so good—their sheep were scrawny, mangy, not well fed, not cared for. This shepherd leads in the right direction—knows where the good grass is—watches over me. The Lord's my shepherd—that's all I want.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd. He fits the description. He could have jumped right out of the 23rd Psalm. He said, "I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly." He defines the very purpose of his mission as bringing life, full and joyous and more than enough, to his followers. Now, by "life," we know he meant more than just physical existence. We know we can have a pulse, and blood coursing through our veins, but still not have life in the sense Jesus meant it. He looked at some of his detractors and said, Oh you walk and talk, but you might as well be dead. You're whited sepulchers. You have the law and a lot of rules, but you lack the spirit. You need resurrection life, which comes as free grace.
Many people of faith have found something else, too. Even when they were lacking in the material things, creature comforts, and even basic necessities, they found they were living abundantly because they had an overflowing cup of the Spirit—because God was near, and God was leading, and they listened to the voice of the Lord. Now the question is, are we feeling that sense of plentiful satisfaction Jesus gives, or are we in a state of deprivation?
For many of us, often, the feeling of abundance is not so strong. The Bible urges us to have godly contentment—but we are often restless and unsatisfied. We have a sense of scarcity, of not enough to go around. It's a paradox—possessing more than any generation in history, yet feeling squeezed, deprived, and envious of those who seem to have more. And, instead of truly enjoying what we have ... we worry that we might run out—of clothes, of time, of gasoline, of food, of money. And sometimes we do run out. Some of us also shop to make ourselves feel better. It temporarily soothes the feelings of need that we have. Soon enough, we need another shopping fix.
Underlying the wars of our time is the dreaded feeling of not enough—at some point, perhaps not so far off, we will wake up and find out the oil is gone—or has become so expensive we can't afford it. The coming showdown with Iran has this subtext: oil ... running out. The way we live today often negates the abundance God has woven into the fabric of the universe. When the few have far too much, and the many have far too little, there can be no peace. The Bible calls for justice to roll down like water, but when the playing field is more and more tilted toward those who already have more than can ever need, that's not justice. And in the Bible, nothing gets God madder than when things aren't fair. From the savannas of Darfur, to the cities and suburbs and farmlands of America, there's often a struggle just to get by. Unjust policies can rob people of the abundance and joy God intends to give.
Richard Swenson is a medical doctor who has written a book called Margin. He means room to breathe, to rest easy, to experience the lavish richness of life as God designed it to be, instead of feeling squeezed all the time. The subtitle is, "Restoring Emotional, Physical, Financial, and Time Reserves to Overloaded Lives." He quotes Henry David Thoreau who said, "I love a broad margin to my life." At his famous place on Walden Pond, he said, "Sometimes, on a summer morning, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, rapt in revery." The most striking thing in this book is where Richard Swenson writes of his own approach to life as a follower of Jesus. "I am not wealthy, and I never will be. I am a medical doctor, so I am able to generate wealth, but I am unwilling to be wealthy. Linda and I have no savings. We simply give away all we can. This is not a hardship, but rather true freedom. We arrange our lives so we can do that, driving older cars and wearing the clothes we have. This give us financial margin. What do we do with the extra? We like to plow it back into the kingdom. We believe in John Wesley's dictum, "If when I die I leave $50 for which I have no use, I am a thief and a robber." What if we were to arrange all of our life, our expenditures of every kind, so that we would always have plenty to give to the work of the kingdom?
Clearly, the abundance Christ came to bring is different from overload. His abundance is evident throughout the gospels. The very first miracle he performed in the gospel of John was turning water into wine. The wedding couple were on the verge of a supreme embarrassment: they were about to run our of wine. Not to worry: Jesus was there, and where he is, there's a joyful plenty. Weighty jars of water became voluminous vats of vino. Then, of course, the feeding of the vast crowd of 5,000. All we have is a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish: no problem. With Christ, there is such a thing as a free lunch—and the gospel makes sure we know, there was plenty left over, too. There's no scarcity with the Savior. He was even accused of being a drunkard and a glutton because of his love of people and parties and dinners. He loved life, and he lived large.
In the same passage that he speaks of spiritual plenty, he talks of laying down his life. The abundant life comes at great cost. Christ gives his all for our sakes. In Eastern religion there is the bodhisattva, who has the chance to go to Nirvana because of his or her state of perfection, but decides not to go, in order to return to earth to help others find the way. This is true perfection: taking a pass on our own comfort or blessedness in order to bring blessing to others. Interestingly, those who experience spiritual riches are most often those who are dedicated to seeing that others have simply enough. We rejoice that folks like Bill Gates, Bono, George Clooney, Angelina Jolie are among the many who are using their wealth and influence to make a difference, overcoming poverty, disease and illiteracy. If we think we have neither wealth nor influence, we are mistaken. God can take what we have and multiply it, when we offer it to the service of the Kingdom.
The table set before us today is a sign of God's plenty, God's generosity, God's endless supply of love. Rev. Johnny Ray Youngblood of St Paul's Church in Brooklyn declared recently to worshipers in New Orleans: "A table! God doesn't dig moats, doesn't build fences with barbed wire, doesn't put sentries there with barbed wire. He prepares tables ... everything you need is on the table. If you need some joy for your sorrow, it's on the table. If you need some hope for your tomorrow, it's on the table. If you need some strength for your weakness, it's on the table." This joyful feast is accompanied by the words of sacrifice and death. In that great paradox of faith, abundant life comes to us by way of the cross. Some look at the cross and see only failure and abandonment and lack. In the light of the resurrection, we see the gateway to superabundance of Spirit. The Lord is my shepherd: that's all I want.
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