Ullswater from above Pattersdale (The English Lakes), mixed media by John Parker, 1825
Seven years ago, I found myself persistently confronted with Psalm 23, without ever intentionally thinking about it. I had seen an ad in the National Geographic travel brochure for a coast-to-coast walk across England, starting from the Irish sea and crossing through the Lake District (made famous by the poetry of Wordsworth and Coleridge among others) all the way to St Bees on the eastern coast of England.
The 12-day walk was rated as easy-to-moderate levels of activity. I was not particularly in shape or athletic at the time, but I was entranced by the thought of tramping through English countryside, seven to eight miles per day, and I thought, “It’s just walking. I can walk…” I had dreams of days of meditation walking through the green meadows and valleys, pondering deep thoughts in the glories of nature.
So, I made the arrangements and flew across the ocean to meet up with a tour group of 16 travelers. As it turned out, it happened to be the rainiest month on record in over 30 years in England. The evening news was full of reports about rivers flooding and towns evacuated due to rising water levels, and the forecast was still rain, rain, and more rain for the coming days.
I had brought a soft shell coat, which was water resistant, but I ended up buying a whole new rain coat in my first day there because I didn’t think I had anything waterproof enough for what we were facing. The first morning, I put on my new coat, new hiking boots, and day pack full of water (of all things!), joined our group, and we took off – first hiking down to the Irish sea, so we could truly claim we had gone coast to coast. We climbed the cliffs that border the sea as we slowly headed inland, and the rain continued to fall around us. Our guides told us that we would be walking five miles to get to a pub for lunch, but they later agreed it was closer to eight miles.
While the views were still amazingly beautiful, my main thoughts were,” My socks are wet, my feet hurt – is my camera getting wet inside my jacket? Is that a blister that I feel? Are we ever going to get there?” All thoughts of spirituality were completely lost to the mundane concerns of my physical body and comfort. And each day, the rain came, and we kept walking, and I kept slogging on, wondering what in the world I had been thinking leaving my son at home with my mother (I missed him!), and believing I could walk from one coast of England to the next. I had taken my Bible with me to read it at night, but I was so tired each night, I barely made it past dinner and collapsed into bed.
Then, finally, after 10 days of walking past stone fences and cow pastures, and crossing lakes both permanent and temporary, and scaling rocks, the sunlight finally broke through -- and the green pastures surrounding me seemed to glow with a supernatural green. The spring flowers were lit brilliantly against blue skies, the world seemed reborn, and Psalm 23 suddenly came to mind:
Mountain Mist, Sunrise (Lake District) oil painting by Henry Clarence Whaite, 1892
“The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me by the still waters; He restoreth my soul.
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For Thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies; Thou anointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.
And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. (Ps. 23, KJV)
And I realized that despite my complete inability to see it in the midst of my mundane concerns, God had been leading me by still waters and restoring my soul. While I walked through muddy fields that seemed to suck my feet down so each step was like pulling myself out of a sinking pit, God had been walking beside me all along, even meeting me with picnics and fellowship on the other side. He had been faithful throughout that trip, even when I was not aware of it.
Psalm 23 has come to me unbidden, not only at the end of my own strength but at the end of another’s. It came to me again when the beeps and whirs of the life support machine became slower and slower until I was left in a silent room, holding my favorite aunt’s lifeless hand years ago. When the tears fell as I silently said goodbye. Even now when the present pandemic overshadows everything, and the shadow of death seems very real as hospitals face looming shortages of supplies and manpower, I am reminded that God is still preparing a table for us, walking with us through this muddy field to the other side.
A few weeks ago, I worked with our church’s outreach team and gathered with several other volunteers at another local church, using their parking lot as a food distribution center. When people came on foot – more women than men, often with little children in tow or in strollers – to wait for a box of eggs, milk, rice, beans or hygiene items, I thought of how my cup is truly running over; admittedly, I have grown up in a family and a country in which I lack nothing, and I have an abundance of all that I need. But beyond the physical needs, I wanted desperately to help prepare tables and pour overflowing cups, and invite everyone to feast on the presence of God.
When I heard the thank yous in that church parking lot as we gave away devotionals and wrote down names of those who still needed food, I thought of how part of being in God’s family is starting to share His heart. As the line kept growing, I watched at least two women drop boxes of precious eggs because they couldn’t juggle the weight, and I saw volunteers be God’s hands and feet by offering to walk beside strollers and help carry food pantry items all the way home.
Recently, someone helpfully pointed out that the recommended time for hand-washing (20-30 seconds to prevent the spread of disease) is the same amount of time it takes to recite the Lord’s Prayer. Each time I’ve picked up a bar of soap and turned the water on, I’ve tried to recite “Our Father…” But instead, I find myself saying, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want, He maketh me to lie down in green pastures…” And I am struck again by the reassurance of Psalm 23. God’s presence is near, even when we can’t see Him, and He is walking beside us in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
Debby Hoppe serves as our Neighborhood and Global Engagement Administrative Assistant. She grew up in a Christian family, the granddaughter of missionaries, but it still took her until after college to really have the love and knowledge of God touch her on a personal level. Currently, she lives in a multigenerational home with her parents, son, cousin and her kids, and two dogs, so they regularly practice their non-violent conflict resolution skills. If she has free time, she spends as much of it traveling internationally (with her son) as possible.
Looking for outreach opportunities? From the moment that schools were closed during the COVID-19 crisis, our Discipleship & Outreach team has worked to address the food insecurity issues that confront our neighbors, meeting with a coalition of 11 pastors and community leaders in the Culmore area to try and coordinate efforts to provide food for the community. From there, our team has worked to support the existing food pantries in our area by supplying extra food and manpower as needed to keep them operational; providing food for multiple families in the Falls Church High School community needing immediate help; and working on an online platform to request assistance while setting up our own church as a food collection point. To learn more about how you can help, CLICK HERE.