Psalm 23: Still Waters & the Shepherd's TaleSýnishorn

"Tige, let’s go!" I shouted, yanking on my dog’s collar.

But Tige? He wasn’t going anywhere.

I was six years old, maybe 40 or 45 pounds soaking wet—about the same size as the dog. And no matter how hard I pulled, Tige just sat there, tongue out, panting, like he was saying:

"Dude, I’m good right here. No rush at all."

I huffed. I tugged. I tried everything. But Tige wasn’t budging.

Now, picture a different kind of owner. One who doesn’t yank or rush. One who walks alongside you and, when you reach a spot where you need to rest, simply stops and lets you. No hurry. No pressure. Just rest—until you’re ready to move again.

And when that moment comes? He doesn’t just yank you forward. He gently leads you to a place where you can actually get refreshed—a quiet stream, cool water, a moment to breathe.

That’s not just an owner. That’s a caretaker.

A caretaker looks out for you, puts your needs first. He knows there’s a lot ahead—challenges, struggles, obstacles that will drain you. So instead of rushing you through the green meadows, He lets you stay there for a bit. Roll around in the grass. Rest.

I can almost see Him smiling, watching, like a loving parent watching their child sleep.

And when I am ready to get up, feeling a little parched, needing something to fill me up again—He doesn’t take me to a roaring river where I might choke on rocks or a salty ocean where the water only makes me thirstier.

No. He takes me to still waters. A place where I can drink at my own pace. Where I can see His reflection looking over my shoulder with a smile.

That’s the kind of Caretaker we have.

A Shepherd who doesn’t just lead—He lets us rest.

And when we’re ready? He makes sure we have exactly what we need.