We hear the 23rd Psalm a lot at funerals.

It’s always read with the best of intentions. But how relevant is it to being dead? Because every line seems to embolden my confidence about living rather than dying.

King David was a shepherd. He was fairly straightforward with his words:

“The Lord is my shepherd…” It’s from this term that the word “pastor” has evolved. A shepherd takes care of his flock. He guides it, feeds and provides water for it and protects it. But if I’m dead, I don’t really need any of that stuff.

I need it now.

The symbolic references using animal husbandry illustrate a few of life’s marvels. Green grass turns the earth into edible muscle tissue and wool. And while it’s not true that sheep won’t drink from a stream that’s flowing, they’re certainly more comfortable sipping still water. [v.2]

In ancient Palestine, a shepherd would seek out flat areas on the side of a mountain for his flock to bed down for the evening. These were often very isolated and provided good protection from predators. They were called tables. [v.5]

Another thought. Short of being raised from the dead, how could I become any more righteous in that state? Righteousness is a goal sought in life. [v.3]

Not only that, I walk through valleys of “deep darkness” [literally translated] every day fearlessly when I allow the Spirit to lead me. [v.4] On the other hand, how could I fear anything in death if my thoughts have perished? [Psa. 146:3-4]

But perhaps the most convincing texts are also the most encouraging to the living, breathing soul. A literal translation of verse 6 in the Septuagint reads:

“And Your mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, even [for] me to dwell in the house of [the] Lord for [a long] length of days.” [my emphasis]

I won’t need any mercy in death. I need it now. The Lord’ temple—or house, is now His Body. I am a part of that Body. He dwells there.

So do I.

Hopefully for a long length of days.