I enjoy a lapping stream, but a stream is not quiet. I enjoy a roaring water fall but a falls is not quiet. I enjoy the rushing waves, but ocean waves are not quiet. Quiet water is still water. There is no stirring sound.
In Psalm 23, solitude is not the need pictured by the quiet water. Not at all! I do need solitude. I need to quiet everything down — usually by leaving behind all those sources of noise. I need to open my eyes to the kind of hearing that ears are incapable of — when things are so still that hearing through the ear is no longer a distraction from hearing from God. But the need that “quiet water” identifies in Psalm 23 is simply the need to drink water. Sheep are uncomfortable around water they can hear so they will not drink it. Maybe it is because wool can get so heavy when it gets wet. Instinctively they know better. “Quiet water” is the need for that which sustains my physical life.
I like still water’s reflectivity. It settles me. But the first need that God cares about according to the Shepherd Psalm is physical need. That God cares for my physical need clearly pictures how God cares for me. First of all, I am a body of flesh.
When Janine and I raised our babies (Nathan and Joanna), our first order of business was that we cared for their little bodies with careful attention to feedings, attention to warmth, and cleanliness (including setting up an item in our meager budget for disposable diapers). We did not neglect loving through baby talk, exaggerated expressions on our faces, and cuddling for the sake of cuddling; but the first order was attention to these other needs.
God shows how much he cares for us by meeting physical needs. He makes it possible for us to live. He protects us from dangers to our life. He uses parents and other sources of provision available to us and gives attention to the small things that impact our growing up. He holds off the majority of threats we could face so that we will not be overcome with more than we can handle (1 Corinthians 10:13).
“Surely goodness… will follow me.” This is mostly the physical need. “Surely… mercy will follow me.” Here the psalmist leaps over an eternal threshold – beyond the physical need that shows God cares for us. God steps over this threshold and through the door into a world of need that surpasses any physical need. The need for mercy. We are not worthy of the attention God pours over us; but God gives the mercy that cleans us up and makes us holy so that we can enter over the threshold into the door of his presence. “And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
This “dwelling inside” is not for our warmth and protection from harsh cold snow, chilling winds, scorching heat or burning infrared radiation. This dwelling is abiding. Forever I have a need met and the need is not to live forever. Forever I have a need met and the need is not to live in my body. Forever I have a need met and the need is to be present with God. When everything that threatens me is quieted, that is one very important matter of concern; but when I, in my inner self, am filled with peace and joy that is one mighty big healing. It’s the fulfillment of what God created me to be like. And it is not a temporary solution to the things that interfere with this perfection of maturity. It is a permanent elixir making it possible for my metamorphosis from infancy to wholeness. It is a kind of quietness with the quality of the perfect pleasure of being who I am meant to be. It is possible because I was intended to be in unity with God and that is the only location where I can feel whole – where I can experience the quiet waters I need so much.
Stephen Williams