Holes - my story as it pertains to Psalm 23:2-3

This summer our pastoral staff at church presented a series called Still Waters. The entire series was a close read and understanding of Psalm 23, which I now have memorized. Who knew that 6 verses could carry thousands of church goers for five weeks? But it did, and the wrap-up last week nailed the entire message into place.

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I've talked about holes before. My soul was a holey mess before God picked me up and started patching two and a half years ago. It was oozing and refused to be healed and had been for years. Maybe forever - I don't know. It's like when we are born, we are born whole - coming straight from heaven with a fresh clean soul, a desire to live life, and a seed of independence planted. As we grow and develop, our souls grow and stretch, and unless we feed them and keep them hydrated, they thin out, break, become holey, and in some instances - completely shred. Souls can be delicate if not properly fed and given fresh water to drink.

The verses in Psalm 23 that impact me so greatly are Psalm 23:2-3. The Psalm reads He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness For His name's sake. Now the entire Psalm paints a picture of God as a shepherd leading his sheep. Sheep don't really do a lot of thinking, which is why they need a shepherd to guide them. In fact, many animals (the dumber breeds like dogs who drink from toilets) will instinctively go to a water source, whatever that source is, and drink of they're thirsty. Period. They won't study the water or test it out to be sure it's clean. They just drink.

This is how many of us go through life daily. As a baby or a small child, we may not even have the ability to go to a source of water to be quenched. We have to be led by our parents. Similarly, parents are also responsible for feeding the souls of their small children. If a parent leaves the feeding or hydrating up to their small child, the child will perish. Just like the soul. It will perish later if not fed early.

I was fed. I grew up in a Christian home. My soul grew as I grew, but as my seed of independence grew into a young lady, I ate a lot of junk food as well. My parents tried to shelter me from that, but life happens. We are surrounded by temptations that, honestly, are just too good not to pass up - music, boys, friends, food, movies, boys, social media, cell phones, boys . . . did I mention boys? That was my vice as a teenager. Boys. As my soul grew, I started to fill my small holes with relationships and things, money and books rather than with the Lord and His promises. I was thirsty, and because I no longer wanted to walk under the shepherd, He was no longer there to guide me to the clean, still waters. Instead I found mud puddles and potholes from which to drink. And my soul started to get sick.

Feeding my soul and watering it myself was easy. I didn't even really know I was sick, honestly. That happens, right? When you live with something for so long you think that it's normal and everybody lives that way. Well, that's kind of true. Everybody does live that way. Or at least everybody that I chose to be around. I surrounded myself with soul-sick people. The ones who weren't sick definitely stuck out, but I kept myself at a distance from them because I wasn't going there. I didn't need whatever they had. I wasn't sick. 

Oh was I ever sick! I was filling up gaping and growing holes so fast, I was in a panic and had no idea! College, boyfriend, career, theater, music, pot, money, marriage, alcohol, friends, more college, children, cars, pornography, homes, money, vacations, social media, writing, students, affairs . . . everything that was temporary and proved disappointing. And then . . . 

Devastation.

I was left in a heap on the bathroom floor. Sobbing. Gasping for breath. My soul was dying. I had fed it the dead grass and contaminated water. 

At one point, one might even consider so much ruin to be better to start over. Terminate. Abort this mission. End it.

So many holes.

I imagine myself at that point as a dying sheep that had found its way to a pile of stone and collapsed - no water or grass as far as the eye could see. Shallow, dry breaths. Sunken eyes. And the vultures were circling. When nothing else mattered anymore - not the money or husband or car or vacation or kids - I heard His call and sandals in the sand followed by the thump of what I knew was my Shepherd's rod. 

He had come for me. Gently he picked me up and carried me back to the flock, laid me near the clear stream in a patch of lush grass, and let me begin healing. 

Never again will I eat or drink anything other than what my Shepherd provides for me. I have seen the devastation and lived the near-death, and it's scary. There's so much green pasture and clean water now, that my cup overflows! And this is why I share so much.

So if you're feeling soul-sick, remember this blog and the story of how my Shepherd left His flock to find me and bring me back. Remember the holes that refused to be patched until God started nourishing me with His green pastures and clean water. Remember that there is always a better way to fill your holes.