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Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

For most Christians, Psalm 23 is one of those things that is just part of your vocabulary. Like “Our Father” or “Glory Be,” the words of this Psalm are more or less second nature. We think of them at funerals, recite them in times of trial.

I used to think that’s what “the valley of the shadow of death” meant. The comforting words of the Psalm were for people who were grieving loved ones, facing a terrible illness or experiencing some other tragedy. Psalm 23 was for people who were either in mourning or in grave and imminent danger. The words never meant a whole lot to me on anything more than an intellectual level.

Of course the association with funerals is a western, 20th century invention. In Jewish tradition, the psalm is sung in Hebrew at the third Shabbat meal on Saturday; Eastern Orthodox Christians pray the psalm as part of their prayers of preparation to receive Holy Communion. In reality, and despite the myriad film depictions, it wasn’t until recently that funeral liturgies included Psalm 23. It was included in the 1964 United Methodist Book of Worship, along with other psalms (the current Book of Worship proscribes only Psalm 23), and The Episcopal Book of Common Prayer added it to the funeral liturgy in the 1928 revision.

My personal misunderstanding of “the valley of the shadow of death” stemmed from a combination of popular culture references and my own youthful feelings of immortality.

Psalm 23 was a psalm for other people. I didn’t need it.

A little bit of context

As I’ve grown a little older, my feelings of immortality have begun to fade. And, as I’ve become more cognizant of my own mortality, I have a new appreciation for the hope and comfort Psalm 23 offers, especially when I look at the psalm in light of what the Bible tells us God has done since the beginning of time.

When Adam and Eve brought sin, and, as a result, death, into the world — even in that moment — God didn’t abandon them to be forever naked and afraid. God made garments for Adam and his wife from animal skins (necessarily shedding blood to do so — the first sacrifice ever recorded), he covered their nakedness and gave them protection from the elements.

When Cain killed his brother in an act of hatred and anger, God showed mercy. Even though Cain would wonder the earth as an outcast, God marked him — gave him an amulet of protection, if you will — so that he would not be killed by those he encountered in his exile.

The Israelites wandered in the wilderness for 40 long and treacherous years. But God did not abandon his chosen people. Rather, God walked with them as a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. God fed them with manna and gave them water to drink in a desert that only offered rocks.

Over and over God sent prophets to point the way back to justice and freedom, even when God’s people refused to listen.

Finally, God sent his Son to proclaim freedom to captives and forgiveness to sinners, to die as a propitiation for the sin of the entire human race, and to leave a sacred meal that would forever memorialize and re-present that very sacrifice for the life of the world.

And Psalm 23 manages to distill all of that salvation history into six succinct verses.

Not death, but life

This psalm isn’t just for funerals, though its comfort and solace are welcome in times of loss. It’s not about death at all. It’s about life — abundant life that exceeds our most absurd expectations.

The truth is we live in the valley of the shadow of death. Every breath we take is a gift from God, and every moment we share is a blessing. Here’s where we get to the crux of Psalm 23: even in this valley, even in the shadowlands, we need not fear. God has never forsaken us, nor has he turned a blind eye to our plight. The history of the valley of the shadow of death is the story of a God who refuses to abandon his people.

There is nothing — not life, not death — there is no power that can separate us from the love of God. And no matter where we walk, whether we trod the darkest valleys, or summit the highest mountains; whenever we shudder in the shadow of death, or bask in the warmth of life’s first light we are surrounded by the love of God.

God’s love is with us, goodness and mercy follow us, and when we pass through that final shadow of death, God’s love will bring us home.