Without Fear

Apr 22

“Even when the way goes through Death Valley, I’m not afraid when you walk at my side. Your trusty shepherd’s crook makes me feel secure.” — Psalm 23:4 (Message Translation)

One of my favorite memories of my maternal grandfather, Pappy Roy, is the time that we spent picking fruit together. Although I enjoyed picking the strawberries and cherries that were cultivated on farms, my most favorite was picking the black raspberries that we found growing in the wild. There was something exhilarating about them— nature’s bounty, free for the taking. And Pappy knew all of the best places to find them. I vividly remember one year when he found an unbroken hedge of them running nonstop along the edge of a farm field. It was one of the most beatiful things I have ever seen, with more berries than we could possibly pick. I literally had visions of berries dancing through my dreams at night.

Now, I have kids of my own to take berry-hunting. My excitement must be contagious because my kids usually start asking about going picking sometime in May. Luckily, one of my cousins lives in a yet-to-be-developed area and, although there’s never quite the bounty that I remember with Pappy Roy, there are still always enough berries to make a few pies and a couple batches of homemade jam.

But I have noticed that there is one major difference between the berry-picking of my childhood and now; the exhilaration of the hunt is dampened by my fear. As the mom and supposedly responsible adult, my thoughts are continually aware of the potential hazards: ticks, poison ivy, and snakes—and could there even be a bear? Although we can see berries polluting the bushes a little further back into the undergrowth, I insist that the kids only pick along the edges of the fields.

Surely, the woods are no more dangerous than they were when I was a kid. So what has changed?

I no longer have Pappy.

The reason I was never afraid as a child was because I was with him. Having grown up in the mountains, he was perfectly confident blazing a trail through any forest, even if it took us straight through copperhead and rattlesnake territory. Because Pappy was always out in front of me, all I ever had to do was follow.

I think this is what David is saying in Psalm 23, which could also be translated something like: “I am in the care of Another, who is not only perfectly capable of carrying me through anything that life throws at me, but who also longs to be with with me as I go.” We can’t always live in open farm fields, lined with perfectly cultivated raspberry hedges. Sometimes, we walk through dark thickets, with tangly undergrowth that catches at our feet and threatens to trip us up. And we know that there is the ever-present serpent lurking about, waiting to strike.

But we also know that we do not walk alone. Our Shepherd goes ahead of us. And all that we ever have to do is follow.