I suppose it’s one of those things that people just don’t talk about, and are always surprised to learn that they are not the only ones who have “interesting” understandings of words or sayings or song lyrics. I think most of us do it.

I’ve read that Paul Simon’s lyrics “Mama don’t take my Kodachrome away” have been misheard as “Mama don’t take my clothes ‘n’ throw ‘em away.”

And Credence Clear Water Revival’s words There’s a bad moon on the rise” is often mistaken for “There’s a bathroom on the right.”

For the longest time I thought Elton John was singing “Good-bye Aztec Road,” not Good-Bye Yellow Brick Road––––I’m probably alone on that one.

I want to confess another one. Well into my adulthood I misunderstood the Elizabethan phrasing of the first verse of today’s very famous Psalm; I thought when the Psalmist claimed that “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want” he meant that God was a shepherd that he didn’t want.

In what is pretty much archaic English “I shall not want,” I’ve since come to learn, means: “not lacking.” So as pretty as the King James Version is, a better way for us to translate that first verses is: The Lord is my Shepherd so I shall not lack.

Isn’t that all that we really want? In both senses of the word. We want, that is “desire,” tranquility and love. We want, that is “are in need of,” tranquility and love.

When I made my first hospital visit as an intern pastor in St. Louis I visited the hospital chapel. I walked to the altar and there sat a bible open to Psalm 23. I don’t know how old that bible was but the mound of pages under both sides of that Psalm were clean and crisp. The page with the Psalm, however, was marked with the soil of what looked like hundreds, or maybe even thousands, of fingers that turned to or touched that verse before me.

In times of trouble, in times of sorrow and worry and even death, Psalm 23 offers something in life. Something that we go back to in times of darkness and need.

Psalm 23 can speak many truths in a myriad of interpretations. You most likely have a different interpretation than mine. The Psalm’s truth is in fact experienced in many different ways and places. Today I want consider how it lays out the fundamental reasons for why we come to church.

When we turn our focus to God, when we allow God to be our Shepherd –– to shepherd us–– God takes us to places of peace. To green pastures. To still waters. To tranquility.

We don’t have to look very far to see that this is true. Think about it. Here in this church each Sunday we turn our focus on God, and at least when the sound system is not making loud noises, there are moments of beauty and calmness, of peace. Tranquility awaits us here each week where we practice focusing on God.

Maybe it’s only for a fleeting moment, maybe it’s not every week, but somehow these walls, these instruments, these musicians, these sounds and all these loving people seeking God together gets us to that place of tranquility.

The Psalmist tells us that our souls are restored. In other words we are saved from our lesser self that wanders away from the shepherd. Our full potential is given back to us. With God leading us the very essence of our being, the soul, is restored. And as a result of that restoration we wander down paths of righteousness.

With God as our shepherd we do what is right. Here in this space we love God, we love self and we love others.

With God our neighbors (even our enemies) are loved. We act as the Shepherd acts with steadfast love for all humanity. It’s true; here in God’s arms of tranquility we do as God does: We love.

Of course we don’t always come into this space calm or even loving. And when we leave it there’s usually a mess or two – or thirty– out there waiting.

Sometimes it’s a deep dark mess. If we stay with the Shepherd or find our way back to the Shepherd even – even– as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we can fear no evil: because God is with us and the power God has, alone, comforts us. The power, the protection, of steadfast love.

I think most of all people turn to Psalm 23 in hospitals, on battle fields, at funerals, or anywhere, really, in dark times, because of the promise of comfort offered by this remarkably unforgettable phrase:

When we focus on God, let God be our shepherd, we can find, feel, and experience comfort, we can find love, the very anchor of our life, of our soul – even in the darkest valleys of life.

As our sign on the street said last week “In God we live and move and have our being.” God is right here and right now always and forever, even as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. That won’t take away evil, but it gives reason not to fear it and comfort as we face it. No matter what– no matter what– we have God’s love.

But Professor Clint McCann at Eden Seminiary asks what happens if we read it to mean that God prepares and calls us to the table with our enemies?

God “preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies” as a metaphor for breaking bread with enemies is especially true on communion Sundays when everyone –EVERYONE- whether we are angry with them, or just don’t like them – everyone– comes to the Lord’s Supper at the Lord’s table where even enemies are welcomed and loved and present as equals.

In this church God does not prepare a table for us while we sit and watch and lord it over others. God prepares a table before us in the presence of our enemies so that we might come and share at table with them, practice seeing them as equals at God’s table as surely Christ calls us to do.

And Christ, Christ while loving everyone, even our enemies, still in fact loves each of us individually. Christ anoints each of our heads with oil. Christ picks us out of the crowd and loves us for who we are–just as we are.

And when we turn and face God, see God as Shepherd, our “cup runneth over. We have in our moments of letting God be our Shepherd an abundance of everything we really, really want: tranquility and peace. God’s steadfast love fills our cup to overflowing.

Here’s the hard part: letting God be our Shepherd everyday, acknowledging it every moment. If we do, if we can, when we focus on God, we lay in the tranquility of green pastures and we are beside still waters, we have our souls restored and we get on that path to righteousness, Jesus’s Way of love.

If we did this every day “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow [us] all the days of [our lives].. .”And [we] will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.”

And it’s not just true for us as individuals. Imagine if the world would heed God’s call to tranquility and love each day. Souls restored. Lives lived on paths of righteousness. Enemies loved. Knowledge that each person is anointed by God, loved by God as special.

Ah, then the world would no longer be a dog-eat-dog. We’d have to call it something else.

Doggie-dog might do. But a better description would be: the fulfillment of God’s reign on earth.