By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
Would you follow someone you didn’t know down the path in this photo?
My guess is that it’s all about trust.
Lately, I can’t shake the twenty-third Psalm. It pops up in music from the radio. It’s referenced in social media or books I’m reading. But most of all, I sense the constant rhythm of its promises in my heart. As if God is whispering to me personally.
Have you ever heard a breeze whisper through an aspen tree? That’s what it’s like – gentle, wooing, soothing.
I trust Him. He leads me.
This week, take a few minutes and write out your version of the twenty-third Psalm. Share below if you’d like, or just keep it to yourself in your wallet or purse. Tape it to your bathroom mirror but make it your own.
Because He is your own. You can trust Him.
My Shepherd leads me in the right way.
He takes me to His living water and bread of life.
He shows me where to rest and is blessed when I trust Him enough to do so.
Sometimes it’s so dark I can’t see anything, but He’s there.
I feel the brush of His arm against mine,
His breath on my hair when He leans close.
Even when I sit with those who hate me,
He feeds me His favor;
He always provides more than enough.
His mercy trails me like a faithful dog;
When I stop and look over my shoulder,
it stops and looks me in the eye.
And the Shepherd promises that I am His,
that I will be His forever.
~He leads me. Click To Tweet
Listen here to Casting Crown’s version of Psalm 23, “Home”
Cade took his hat off and slapped it against his leg. It was time to say words over Henry.
“Oh.” Mae Ann paled a bit and smoothed her skirt, looking everywhere but at him. “Thank you.”
“We picked a high spot with a good view of the place.” Somehow that mattered.
She followed him to the small rise behind the barn where Deacon stood mopping his face and neck. He squared himself as Mae Ann stopped next to the dark mound of fresh dirt and folded her hands. A breeze danced around her skirt and played with her hair that had worked loose.
Deacon held his hat against his chest. “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He beds me down in green pastures with sweet water.”
Cade cut a look at Mae Ann, but she showed no reaction to Deacon’s loose interpretation of Scripture.
“He leads me on a good trail and stays with me in the tight places.”
She raised her eyes to Deacon, taking in his cattleman’s words that weren’t exactly what the parson would say but sure enough painted a picture of these high mountain parks.
“And the Lord’s spread will be my home forever.” Deacon jerked a nod to punctuate the end of his piece and shoved his hat on. “Amen.”
Mae Ann bowed her head. A sudden gust kicked over the rise and snagged her skirt like a flag. Cade eyed a thick gray band edging the horizon. They’d have just enough time to get home before the rain hit. ~An Improper Proposal
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