TEXT: Psalm 23:4

SUBJECT: Henry on Psalm 23#6

Tonight, with the Lord’s help, we’ll move on in our study of Matthew Henry on the 23^rd Psalm. Thus far, we’ve looked at the Psalm’s doctrine and some of its applications. The doctrine or the main teaching is: The Lord is my Shepherd, that is, what a shepherd is to his sheep, the Lord is to me—only much more.

Because the Lord is my shepherd, it follows that: I shall not want or I will lack nothing that I truly need—nothing! Henry names three things every believer has from the Lord: (1) provision—He makes me to lie down in green pastures; (2) guidance—He leads me beside the still waters; and (3) restoration—"he restores my soul" that is, He refreshes my tired and weak body and He repairs my broken and hurting soul. These are the promises of God, promises we can trust—and ought to trust—because they are His promises.

Now, in v.4, Henry sees another blessing we have because of the goodness of our Shepherd.

Because the Lord is our Shepherd, He gives us the courage to die in hope and without the terrors so many feel in their last hours. That’s what Henry sees in the fourth verse.

I agree with him, of course, but I also think he has misread the verse somewhat. Most Old Testament scholars today translate "the valley of the shadow of death" as something like, "the valley of dark shadows". It includes death (which is the darkest shadow), but not only death. Other painful and scary things are meant by it as well. That’s what modern expositors say—and I think they’re right.

Even though the Puritan leaves some things out of his commentary, what he says is still true and very important. The Lord gives grace—not only when we’re young and healthy, but also when we’re old and sick and nearing the grave. What a wonderful Shepherd we have! His promise is true:

Never! Not in sickness, not in old age, not in the hospital, not in the rest home, not in hospice care, not in death! One of David’s last prayers has been answered—for him and us:

No life in the Old Testament is more carefully followed than David’s. We meet him as a teenager—handsome, ruddy, and brave. Then he’s a young man, ruling with great courage and justice. Then he’s an older man, seasoned by grace, and composing the Psalms. And finally, he’s a lion in winter—an old man who can no longer lead the armies of Israel, notice pretty girls—or even keep himself warm. But even then, shivering with old age, we see the Lord is still with him; David dies as he had lived: with praise to God in his mouth and in his pen!

The Lord gave him courage in his old age and in his death. Because the Lord was his shepherd.

Preachers always say: Christians don’t have to fear death. But what we don’t say is also true: Christians don’t have to fear dying! We’re not only safe when sleeping in Jesus, but also, as we live out our last days and feel our bodies giving way to death. What a wonderful Shepherd we have! The old Baptist, John Rippon, wrote a great hymn,

The old, broken down saint is cared for by His God as if he were a newborn lamb! Is anything in the world sweeter than a baby? And is anything more tender than a mother nursing her newborn to sleep? Well, that’s how the Lord treats His people as they pass into old age and near death.

In my opinion, most Americans don’t fear death, but they’re terrified of dying. You understand why: the pain, the loneliness, the regrets, the embarrassment, the medical expenses, the hopelessness, and so on. But the believer needn’t fear his last hours, for even then, when all is lost, all is not lost, for the Lord is still his Shepherd!

Death is a real and bad thing and Henry doesn’t pretend otherwise. But the awfulness of death—he says—is greatly reduced for believers. He picks out four words in our verse for our meditation. This is Puritanism at its best!

No one in the world is more scared of snakes than I am! Even the shadow of a snake terrifies me. But even though the shadow scares the dickens out of me, that’s all it can do: scare me! The shadow of the deadliest snake cannot bite me! And neither can death kill the believer!

Because our Lord is raised from the dead, even death has lost its sting and the grave has lost its victory! Christians are under the shadow of death, but that’s all it is—a shadow. The real monster is dead and buried—in the resurrection of Jesus Christ!

I don’t know much about farming, but even I know that rich farms are in valleys, not rocky hillsides or mountain peaks. Mount Whitney is a magnificent sight, but the San Joaquin Valley is where all the fruits and vegetables grow!

If fruits grow best in low places, then the lowness of death produces fruit in God’s people. It creates hope when all hope of getting better is lost; it’s a strong witness to the lost who know they cannot die in peace; when over, it brings the believer into the direct presence of the Lord Jesus Christ and into happiness perfect and eternal.

Our Lord once said,

We have gain from loss and a lot of life from a little death. Death, therefore, is real, but it’s also good for the believer.

The last days of an unbeliever is a desperate time. Of course it is, for he is being chased by something more terrifying than pack of rabid dogs. Death, the most vicious predator is hard on his heels and cannot be outrun.

But the believer’s death is not a wild and hopeless chase. It’s a walk out of this world—a good place, to be sure—and into a world that is far better. A walk takes some effort, of course, but it’s a good thing if you’re going to a good place. And the believer is.

If I told you, "He hiked into Yosemite", you wouldn’t know what became of the man. But if I said, "He hiked through it", you’d know he got out safe and sound. In the same way, the Christian walks into death, but he doesn’t stay there; he also walks through it.

It has been said, "Nobody gets out of life alive". But that’s wrong: believers do—more alive than they ever were in this life. We think of dead saints as, well, dead, and ourselves as alive. I bet they think of it the other way around: they’re alive and we’re dead! They crossed over and cannot die. They’re alive forevermore.

John Donne’s poem is immortal. Here’s a sample:

Henry has now blunted the sharpness of death and made it seem not nearly as awful as it seems to be. But then, in the last part of his commentary, he goes farther than fending off death. He says,

Maybe you’ve heard the terms, black humor or gallows humor. It means joking about death. Many do this—especially if they’re not old or sick! But this kind of joking is a pretense for most people. They whistle by the graveyard because they’re terrified of it.

But the believer isn’t! He can laugh at death and spit on it’s grave—and with good reason. Henry says, in brief:

The believer has courage in death, then, not because he’s manlier than others, but because he believes the promises of God: that death cannot break his fellowship with Christ, that the Lord will draw near him when he needs Him most, and the devil cannot touch him, for the Lord is there to beat him back and take the Christian home.