Psalm 23: Still Waters & the Shepherd's TaleSýnishorn

Have you ever had the power go out in the middle of the night? You wake up, wait for your eyes to adjust, and then carefully start feeling your way around. Maybe you stumble a bit, reaching for a candle or your phone flashlight. But you’re not afraid.

Why?

Because it’s your house. Even in the dark, your brain remembers where things are. You might not have the full perspective that light provides, but you still have a general sense of what’s around you. So, you reach out, trusting what you know.

But what if you were in an unfamiliar place? A total blackout. No landmarks. No memory of the space.

Would you feel that same level of comfort—or would a little fear creep in?

I experienced something like this recently on a couples retreat. We did a trust walk where my wife was blindfolded, and I had to guide her—without touching her—just using my voice.

She had to trust me.

She had to believe that I wouldn’t let her step into a pothole or trip over something in her path. And while she did trust me, there was still uncertainty—especially when the ground beneath her changed from grass to asphalt to gravel and back again.

But ultimately, she leaned on one thing: She knew I loved her. She knew my voice was there. And she knew I wouldn’t let her fall. And that’s exactly how it is with The Shepherd.

We go through seasons where we feel blindfolded, uncertain about what’s next. The path changes beneath us, and we don’t know what we’re walking into. But one thing is constant—He is with us.

We don’t have to fear the unknown because our Shepherd leads us. And while my wife had only my voice, The Shepherd gives us even more—His voice, His guidance, His rod and staff pulling us back when we start to drift.

Even in the darkest valley, He is still Light.