I am a sheep, defenseless and clueless.
I need a shepherd, a good shepherd to guide and protect me.
I do not always choose the best pastures, the right paths,
or the safest waters from which to drink.
Without Him I will follow other sheep even if they are walking a path that leads to death.
I tend to wander off, distracted by other places.
My Good Shepherd uses his rod to discipline me that I will learn to stay with Him.
He uses his staff to rescue me when I have fallen into a pit or gotten in over my head.
When I am injured or sick he is my healer, anointing me with oil.
Though my enemy is near, the Shepherd stands guard to defend me while I eat, sleep or drink.
The Shepherd gives me purpose; He harvests my wool.
Because of my Shepherd I have a happy, long life and am content basking in His loving presence.
Psalm 23
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside the still water.
He restores my soul;
he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yes, 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 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 will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
Green pastures of lush grass, often decorated with bright flowers of yellow, red and blue are a place of bounty, play and rest. Few creatures can resist the urge to leap and play, then roll onto their backs to look up at bright blue sky. When sheep are scattered across the rolling hills or flat meadows, they appear like fluffy clouds hovering over the green, often mirrored by the fluffy clouds of white above.
When I think of green pastures, I remember my horse Angel and the hours she spent munching through them and the times I rode her across them. I think of green meadows filled with violets, daisies, and dandelions as my mom and dad flew paper kites with my brother Doug and me. I think of black and white dairy cows lumbering across the fields or huddled around a lone tree in the midst of a sea of green grass. I think of the smell of spring and summer, freshly mowed fields and lawns. Green pastures are simple contentment in the provision of the Almighty.
I love green pastures.
Lori Vidak 7-01-14
