No work of art is more beautiful, more valuable, more irreplaceable, than the twenty-third psalm. It has stood through the ages as a work of art more exquisite than The Night Watch, more faultless than Mona Lisa, more thought-provoking than Starry Night. The lines of the greatest poets cannot match its imagery, the words of the greatest theologians its profundity. Credentialed academics may wrestle with it, yet young children can understand it. It is read over cradles and cribs, over coffins and crypts, at births and deaths, at weddings and funerals. It is prayed in closets, sung in churches, and chanted in cathedrals.

This psalm dries more crying eyes, raises more drooping hands, and strengthens more weakened knees than any man or angel. It tends to every kind of wound and ministers to every kind of sorrow. To trade it for all the wealth of all the worlds would be the worst of bargains. I’d have rather penned the twenty-third psalm than written Hamlet, than painted Sunflowers, than sculpted The Thinker, for when Shakespeare’s play has been forgotten, when Van Gogh’s painting has faded, when Rodin’s sculpture has been destroyed, David’s song will remain. We impoverish ourselves if we do not read it, do not meditate upon it, and do not treasure it. We weaken ourselves if we do not drink deeply of it in our deepest sorrows.
David’s great psalm employs the simplest of images—that of a shepherd and his sheep—and assures of the greatest of truths—that God is forever present with his people. “The LORD is my shepherd” he says so simply, “I shall not want.” Because the LORD is his shepherd, this sheep can have confidence that he will never lack for any necessity, for the shepherd loves his flock and will faithfully attend to their every need. When they are tired he will make them lie down in green pastures, when they are thirsty he will lead them beside still waters, when they are downtrodden he will restore them, when they are lost or uncertain he will lead them in the right paths. The sheep can rest in peace under the shepherd’s watchful eye, they can be assured of every comfort under his tender care.
But sometimes fields go barren and springs run dry. And in such times the good shepherd knows just what to do, he knows he must lead his sheep to fresh pastures and to cool, still waters. Yet he also knows the way will be difficult, for these pastures and waters lie on the far side of a dark valley. So he calls his sheep to himself and begins to lead them into the darkness, to lead them along an unfamiliar path.
And here, on the edge of uncertainty, sheep says to shepherd, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” Though the shepherd must lead his sheep into the darkness, lead them through an unknown valley, they will go, for he is with them. Their fears are soothed by his strength, their uncertainty by his presence. When enemies approach he will ward them off with his rod, when sheep stumble he will lift them with his staff. The shepherd who leads them in will lead them through and lead them out. And soon enough sheep and shepherd will emerge into the light on the far side of their darkness. And there again they will settle together for rest and refreshment. There again they will dwell in sweet peace.
What comfort there is in the knowledge that the shepherd who tends his sheep by still waters is the very same shepherd who tends them in the valley of darkness. The sheep do not foolishly blunder into that valley, they are not led there by wily wolves or chased there by hungry bears. They are led there by their loving shepherd, they enter there only according to his good plan and perfect purpose. They enter the valley only because it is for their benefit, only because the shepherd is leading them to something better beyond. They are never for a moment alone, for they are always following him.
My shepherd has called me to walk a difficult path—a path of sorrow, a path of grief, a path stained by tears. The way is uncharted to me but familiar to him, for he sees the end from the beginning, he has known from ancient times the things still undone. He speaks to the darkness and declares, “My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all my purpose.” I can have in him all the confidence of a sheep in his shepherd. I can follow him, knowing that “surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.”
And I will follow him, singing this song in the darkness, meditating upon its truths with every step. I’d rather face my trial with David’s psalm in my heart than with Aaron’s staff in my hand, with Joshua’s army at my side, with Solomon’s gold in my pocket. I’d rather know the words to this one song than of all the great hymns of the Christian faith. I’d rather lose everything with my shepherd beside me than gain the whole world alone. Yes, I can bear the loss of my son as long as I know the presence of my shepherd. I can walk this path, I can pass through this dark valley, if only my shepherd guides me, if only he leads the way.

Blessings to you today!

There is yet another batch of Kindle deals for you this morning.
(Yesterday on the blog: Shaken to Bear Fruit)
Who Was David Brainerd?
Dustin Benge has written a nice little introduction to David Brainerd. “On a spring day in 1747, mounted on his horse, a frail twenty-nine year old David Brainerd (1718–1747) rode into the yard of the Northampton parsonage of New England pastor Jonathan Edwards. Before this day, Brainerd and Edwards were relative strangers to one another. However, the summer of 1747 nurtured a growing friendship between the two men culminating in one of the most influential missionary biographies in the history of American evangelicalism.”
Love Without Limits
This is sweet. “I learned that the heart is infinitely expandable—limitless, even—with no bottom or edges or measuring devices attached. I learned that I could add and add and add people to my circle of family or friends and I would never run out of love to give. I learned that I could love many people equally, and loving one person intensely due to some temporary circumstance never had to mean that another would suffer from any lack of love from me. I learned that even when I thought I couldn’t love any harder, or more expansively, or deeper … I could.”
We Love to Give Gold Stars
Ryan Higginbottom: “When we obsess about the ethics of every action of a character in a Bible passage, we are likely to miss the main point. We should investigate why the author wrote this passage in this way; if they were not concerned with parsing the moral grade of a character’s actions, we should not be either.”
What South Asian Christians Do During Diwali
“It’s Diwali,” Aileen told me early yesterday morning when fireworks woke us up just after midnight. This article from CT tells what Christians in South Asia do during the holiday. And the article makes me think of what I’ve taken for granted: that the holidays in Canada are all just fine for Christians to celebrate. Not so everywhere in the world!
How Tall Was Goliath? A Textual Dilemma
How tall was Goliath? The answer isn’t quite as straightforward as we may think.
Greek Grammar and Trinitarian Worship
This is a good article from Adriel Sanchez.
Flashback: Why I Owe Everything To Don Lewis
If we trace the Christian faith of all these people—perhaps 40 or 50 of us now—they all eventually converge on Don Lewis. They all converge on a young man who simply and faithfully shared the gospel.

Persecution has never hurt the church…only prosperity. —Paul Washer

This week the blog is sponsored by  RHB Publications and written by Joel R. Beeke.

As a teenager, God used Thomas Goodwin’s writings more than anyone else’s to bring me to liberty in Christ and to grow me in Christ. I wept often as I read his “Christ the Mediator” at the richness and fullness of my Savior and Lord. Already then, I dreamt of one-day publishing Goodwin’s entire Works of 12 volumes in a beautiful hardcover edition. Half a century later, that dream finally became a reality. 
After reading the article below, I believe you will see why Goodwin had such a profound effect on me! We pray by reading Goodwin, you will be drawn closer to our beautiful Redeemer.
This reprinting of The Works of Thomas Goodwin stands as a fitting climax to the past half-century of the rediscovery and republication of the writings of the Puritans. Renowned for intelligent piety at its Puritan best, Thomas Goodwin, ”the Atlas of independency,” stands on a par with John Owen, “the prince of Puritans,” as a theologian and an exegete, and often surpasses him in experimental depth. Slightly easier to read than Owen, Goodwin’s writings demand concentration for maximum benefit. 
Those influenced by Goodwin’s writings include John Cotton, Jonathan Edwards, George Whitefield, and John Gill. Alexander Whyte confessed: “I have read no other author so much and so often. And I continue to read him to this day as if I had never read him before.” He calls Goodwin’s sermon, “Christ Dwelling in Our Hearts by Faith,” one of the ”two very greatest sermons in the English language.” Whyte aptly concludes:
Goodwin is always an interpreter, and one of a thousand …. All his work, throughout his twelve volumes, is just so much pulpit exposition and pulpit application of the Word of God …. spiritual experience-all the same, he is always so simple, so clear, so direct, so untechnical, so personal, and so pastoral.
In our generation, Puritan scholar J.I. Packer concurs: “Whyte called Goodwin ‘the greatest pulpit exegete of Paul that has ever lived,’ and perhaps justly; Goodwin’s Biblical expositions are quite unique, even among the Puritans, in the degree to which they combine theological breadth with experimental depth. John Owen saw into the mind of Paul as clearly as Goodwin-sometimes, on points of detail, more clearly-but not even Owen ever saw so deep into Paul’s heart.”
Thomas Goodwin was a prolific author and editor. During the 1630s, he coedited with John Ball the works of John Preston and Richard Sibbes. He began to publish some of his own sermons in 1636. Prior to his death, he published at least twelve devotional works, most of which were collections of sermons. The fact that they were reissued forty-seven times indicates the high demand and wide circulation of his publications. 
Most of Goodwin’s major theological writings were the fruit of his riper years and were published posthumously. His unusually large corpus of treatises displays a pastoral and scholarly zeal rivaled by few Puritans. 
The first collection of Goodwin’s works was published in five folio volumes in London from 1681 to 1704 under the editorship of Thankful Owen, Thomas Baron, and Thomas Goodwin, Jr. An abridged version of Goodwin’s works, condensed by J. Rabb, was printed in four volumes (London, 1847-50). The presently reprinted twelve-volume authoritative edition was printed by James Nichol (Edinburgh, 1861-66) as his first choice in what would become known as the well-edited and highly regarded Nichol’s Series of Standard Divines; not surprisingly, it is far superior to the original five folio volumes.
Goodwin’s treatment of his subjects is massive, sometimes liable to exhaust the half-hearted. The pull of his writings is not always felt immediately. His first editors (168l) explained his occasional prolixity in these terms: “He had a genius to dive into the bottom of points, to ‘study them down,’ as he used to express it, not contenting himself with superficial knowledge, without wading into the depths of things.”
One does need patience to read Goodwin at times; along with depth and prolixity, however, he combines a wonderful sense of warmth, unction, and experience. The reader’s patience will be amply rewarded. 
Read Goodwin slowly, meditatively, and prayerfully, and you will reap spiritual dividends far beyond what you can imagine. You will understand as you read why Goodwin has been my favorite Puritan author for most of my life.