The Lord is My Shepherd, a sermon based on Psalm 23 and Revelation 7: 9-17, preached on May 11, 2025

Mother’s Day is today, and I’m celebrating because our daughters have received the great gift of a wonderful mother. My wife, Sara, is a particularly wonderful mother. Among other things like feeding them, paying attention to their grades, and taking them to the doctor, when our girls need her to hold them, she holds them, and when they need her to let them go, she lets go. Think about that skill with me for just a moment. When we hold onto our children too closely, we call it coddling. When we push them out of the nest too early, we may break them. When we dropped Lily off at Kindergarten, she was ready, and Sara was excited. Sara could see how excited Lily was to go to school, so she celebrated with her little girl. She cheered her on in taking that step of independence into her Kindergarten classroom, while I, soon after dropping Lily off, cried in the car. Likewise, as Lily passed her driver’s test and drove off into the world on her own, Lily was happy. Sara was happy with Lily, while once again, I cried, only this time it wasn’t the car, because now my car is Lily’s car. I cried in the house instead of crying in the car, and I cried because I felt like I was losing our little girl, while Sara was proud and excited, for motherhood is, at its best, the mastery of two movements which are at odds with each other. A mother holds her baby close to her chest and then encourages her to fly. Today, on Mother’s Day, I’m focused on flying and those who have nudged us out of the nest. This movement begins as soon as the umbilical cord is cut. From the moment that cord is cut, babies are learning to move out into the world. They roll over, learn to crawl, stand up, and start to walk. From walking, they run, and the best mothers cheer for them. The best mothers nudge their chicks out into the big scary world, which becomes a little less scary the more we trust the community to watch out for them. How wonderful that there would be a baptism today, for in baptism, mothers are reminded that they are not their children’s lone caregiver. In the Presbyterian church, the baptism is a public event. It takes place during the worship service so that the parents can hear the congregation promise to help them raise their child. In every Presbyterian baptism, the congregation is asked two questions: “Do we, the people of this congregation, receive this child into the life of the church?” and “Will we promise, through prayer and example, to support and encourage her to be faithful in Christian discipleship?” We Presbyterians can’t have private baptisms because the parents must hear the congregation say: “We do,” and “We will.” Parents need to know that their baptized child has this incredible advantage of community. Not only is there mom, but there is also a congregation, so faith, for us, is not the promise of an easy life without trial. Faith, for us, is instead the promise that amid all the trial and tribulation, we are not alone. There is a community, both human and divine, for our fellowship includes the Good Shepherd, who promises, not to watch from a distance from the clouds up in Heaven, but to walk with us, leading us beside the still waters from green pasture to green pasture. The Presbyterian church continues in this celebration of relationships with the wedding liturgy. I’ve had the honor of officiating many weddings, maybe 200 weddings. The most memorable include one with a medieval theme held at a botanical garden that started one hour late because the mother of the groom was making all the dresses but hadn’t finished in time, so the groomsmen were killing time, just wandering around the botanical garden with swords on their belts. They scared a few people with those swords, although the most terrified of all was the father of the bride. I thought he was going to have a heart attack. He didn’t. Still, I’ll never forget that wedding. Another wedding I’ll always remember is the wedding of my wife’s sister. Sara’s sister Ami married a Methodist minister, so my wife, Sara, and her sister Ami both married protestant ministers, which is ironic because they were raised Roman Catholic. The Rev. Lyn Pace, my brother in-law, is a chaplain at Duke University. The two of us arm wrestle over who will pray at Thanksgiving. My daughters, Lily and Cece, will have the option of their uncle or their father to officiate at their weddings. I’m thankful for the honor of officiating their Uncle Lyn’s wedding, both the first and the second time he married Sara’s sister Ami. Upon their engagement, Lyn and Ami set their wedding date and put the invitations in the mail. Then Lyn’s father got sick. When his father’s death seemed eminent, Lyn and Ami asked me to officiate a small wedding service, just family, so that, should Lyn’s father die before the publicized wedding date, he wouldn’t miss the chance to see his son marry the love of his life. The small, family wedding was beautiful. A picture of Lyn’s father giving his blessing to his son on that day is etched in my memory, but the invitations had gone out. The original date had not been canceled. On the day their guests showed up, I asked them, “If they’re already married, what are we doing here?” “We are here because they need your love and support,” I said. Then I asked the congregation: “Do all of you promise to uphold this couple in their marriage and strengthen them in their life together?” This is an important question that is asked at every Presbyterian wedding, for like the congregation at the baptism, the guests at the wedding are not there just for the open bar at the reception, but are a group of people who create a community of love to support and encourage newlyweds as they step out into the world together, making our big scary world just a little less scary. In addition to the people is a Shepherd who promises, not to watch from a distance from the clouds up in Heaven, but to walk with us, leading us beside the still waters from green pasture and even through the valley of the shadow of death. Do not fear for He is with you. Think with me this morning about what it means that our Bible would again and again use this image of a shepherd to describe who Jesus is, for what does a shepherd do? If we are His flock, and if the Lord is my Shepherd, then what does a shepherd do but help me move from where I was or am to where I will be? On this Mother’s Day, think with me about the ones who held our hands while we learned to walk, but in helping us to walk, enabled us to move from one stage to another. Those stages continue on far past childhood and adolescence. The young look forward to turning 16 so they can drive. Then 21. Then, we stop looking forward to the next birthdays, yet the stages continue. We move from one pasture to the next one until we reach the final destination. Be not afraid, for you are not on this journey alone. The road is not easy, but He will not let your foot slip. Think with me about that gentle Shepherd who leads us to lie down in the green pastures, beside the still waters, and through the darkest valley because we were not created to settle in and make our permanent residence until we stand before the throne of God. My friends, we are pilgrims in a foreign land. We are on a journey to our final destination. We travel through this mortal life. Do not be afraid. Do not get stuck where you are, for our journey through life requires we move from our mother’s arms out into the world. Yes, we may get hurt along the way, and yes, we may not all make it from adolescence to adulthood. From early adulthood to middle age. From middle age to retirement. From retirement to that age when we are not testing to receive our driver’s license but testing to determine when we must relinquish it. We are on a journey from one pasture to the next. It’s not easy to keep moving, so I implore you: Trust the Shepherd who guides us to our final destination. Do not neglect your relationship with Him. Learn to hear His voice. Learn to trust Him. Learn to follow. For until we stand before the throne, we cannot settle in. We are on a journey of maturing, a journey of rising, a journey of falling, a journey of learning and understanding, rejoicing and weeping, winning and losing that will be far too terrifying to embark upon if we do not trust the One who leads us. Follow Him until you stand before the throne of our Creator and hear that loud voice saying, “Salvation belongs to our God.” Trust Him, until He wipes every tear from your eyes. Last week, I was back on the Presbyterian College campus because now I’ve been graduated long enough to be considered wise and experienced, wise and experienced enough to instruct recent graduates in how to be a Presbyterian minister. It was a gift to be there, for that was the place I first fell in love with a young woman, who was raised Roman Catholic who has now become my wife and the mother of my children. While I was there, I saw two of my professors, who now live at the Presbyterian Village Retirement Community. They did not resist retirement. They did not fight it but embraced the journey because they trust the Shepherd and know where He is leading them. The Lord is my Shepherd. And I will trust Him, too. Amen.