Tag Archives: Quiet Time

Green Grass in a Desolate Place

Jesus our Shepherd Who Provides

Psalm 23: A Psalm of David. (NIV)

1 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2 He makes me lie down in green pastures.3 He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. 4 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. 5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

Mark 6:30-44 (NIV)

30 The apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. 31 And he said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. 32 And they went away in the boat to a desolate place by themselves. 33 Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they ran there on foot from all the towns and got there ahead of them. 34 When he went ashore he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. And he began to teach them many things. 35 And when it grew late, his disciples came to him and said, “This is a desolate place, and the hour is now late.36 Send them away to go into the surrounding countryside and villages and buy themselves something to eat.” 37 But he answered them, “You give them something to eat.” And they said to him, “Shall we go and buy two hundred denarii worth of bread and give it to them to eat?” 38 And he said to them, “How many loaves do you have? Go and see.” And when they had found out, they said, “Five, and two fish.” 39 Then he commanded them all to sit down in groups on the green grass. 40 So they sat down in groups, by hundreds and by fifties. 41 And taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven and said a blessing and broke the loaves and gave them to the disciples to set before the people. And he divided the two fish among them all. 42 And they all ate and were satisfied. 43 And they took up twelve baskets full of broken pieces and of the fish. 44 And those who ate the loaves were five thousand men.

Jesus, Our Shepherd Who Provides

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.”
—Psalm 23:1

There are some words Scripture places so deeply in our souls that they surface without effort. Psalm 23 is one of them. We whisper it in hospital rooms and at gravesides. We carry it through uncertain seasons. It is a psalm for those who know what it is to walk through shadows—and still dare to trust.

Another familiar story meets us in Mark 6: the feeding of the five thousand. Five loaves. Two fish. A crowd too large and resources too small. At first glance, these passages may feel separate—one poetic, one narrative. But when we slow down and listen closely, we begin to hear the same voice.

Jesus is the Shepherd of Psalm 23—now standing among His sheep.

Mark is not offering a coincidence. He is revealing fulfillment.

Sheep Without a Shepherd—Until Jesus Appears

When Jesus steps ashore, Mark tells us He sees the great crowd and is moved with compassion, because they were like sheep without a shepherd (Mark 6:34).

That phrase is heavy with meaning. Throughout Israel’s history, God’s people suffered under failed leaders and were repeatedly described as scattered sheep. Psalm 23 answers that ache with a promise: The LORD is my shepherd.

In Mark 6, that promise takes flesh.

Jesus does not distance Himself from the language of shepherding—He embodies it.He stays with the crowd. He teaches them. He takes responsibility for their hunger and their formation. Before bread is broken, lives are gathered.

The Shepherd has come.

Green Grass in the Wilderness

Then Mark tells us something surprisingly specific. Jesus commands the people to sit down on the green grass.

Green grass—in a desolate place.

Psalm 23 says, “He makes me lie down in green pastures.” Sheep only lie down when they feel safe, when fear loosens its grip, when trust settles deep.

Here, in the wilderness, Jesus creates that same safety. Where the Shepherd stands, the wilderness begins to resemble pasture. Scarcity no longer gets the final word. The kingdom of God often comes quietly—placing rest beneath weary bodies and life where barrenness once ruled.

A Table Prepared by the Shepherd

The disciples see the math and panic. Jesus sees a table.

Psalm 23 declares, “You prepare a table before me…”
Mark tells us, “They all ate and were satisfied.”

Not barely enough.
Not rationed.
Satisfied.

This is shepherd abundance. When the true Shepherd provides, there is not only enough—there is overflow. Twelve baskets remain, a sign that nothing placed in the Shepherd’s hands is ever wasted.

Just before this story, Mark records another meal—Herod’s feast. That feast is shaped by power, ego, and fear, and it ends in death. Jesus’ feast is marked by compassion, simplicity, and trust, and it ends in life.

Two tables.
Two kingdoms.
One Shepherd who gives Himself for His sheep.

Still Waters and a Fearless Walk

Immediately after the meal, Mark leads us onto troubled waters. The disciples struggle. The wind resists them. Then Jesus comes—walking on the sea.

Psalm 23 rises again:
“He leads me beside still waters… Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”

The Shepherd who feeds is the Shepherd who protects. The Shepherd who gathers on the hillside is the Shepherd who stands between His people and chaos. Mark tells us the disciples did not yet understand about the loaves. In other words, they were still learning who Jesus truly is.

He is the Shepherd.

The Shepherd Still Walks With Us

Revelation gathers Psalm 23 once more and carries it forward: the Lamb who is also the Shepherd, no more hunger, no more thirst, God wiping away every tear.

What Jesus does in Mark 6 is not only history—it is promise. Psalm 23 is no longer only poetry. It is prophecy fulfilled in Christ.

So if today feels desolate,
if you come weary,
if you arrive hungry—body or soul—

Jesus, your Shepherd, sees you.

The table is set.
The grass is green—even here.
And the new creation has already begun.

A Prayer for the Path

Heavenly Father,
We thank You for giving us Jesus, our Good Shepherd. In places of weariness or uncertainty, help us recognize His presence and trust His care. Teach us to rest where He leads, to receive what He provides, and to walk without fear, knowing He is with us.
May Your goodness and mercy follow us all the days of our lives, as we dwell in Your presence.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Continuing on the Prayer Path

Five Scriptures for Prayer and Reflection

John 10:11 — “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”
→ Sit with the truth that Jesus does not just guide you—He gives Himself fully for your care and salvation.

Ezekiel 34:15–16 — “I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep… I will seek the lost.”
→ Pray with gratitude that God personally comes after His people, especially in places of weakness or wandering.

Matthew 11:28 — “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
→ Bring your weariness honestly to Jesus and receive the rest only the Shepherd can give.

John 6:35“I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger.”
→ Reflect on where you seek satisfaction and ask Jesus to nourish the deeper hungers of your soul.

Revelation 7:16–17 — “The Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd.”
→ Rest in hope, knowing the Shepherd who feeds you now will one day wipe away every tear forever.

Consider the Lilies: Walking the Prayerful Path of Trust

Matthew 6:28

I spent a beautiful afternoon with the Lubbock Christian Women’s Connection, and from the moment I walked in, I knew it would be special. One of our fearless leaders greeted me with such kindness, looked straight into my eyes, and said, “Dee Ann, we need you to be a table hostess.”

Now I will be honest with you—there is an old fear that sometimes tries to rise up in moments like that. It grabs hold of my words and makes them want to dance into a stutter. For just a second, I felt it coming. But instead of letting fear speak, I quietly reached for Jesus’ hand and said, “Of course.”

And oh, how the Lord provides.

Karen Wood became my buddy for the day. By God’s grace, I managed to get us both safely to the Country Club, and we were ready to celebrate sisterhood. But what meant the most was this—Karen leaned in and said so gently, “I’ve been a hostess before… we can do it together.”

Isn’t that just like Jesus?

I whispered a quiet thank-you to Him in that moment—for a sweet friend, for His steadying presence, and for the courage to step into a responsibility I might have once avoided.

The afternoon itself was rich with beauty. Lindy Woods filled the room with songs that seemed to settle right into our hearts, preparing us for what God had in store. Then we heard from Leana Neagle of Willis, Texas, whose message, “On the Heels of Grace,” felt like holy ground.

Her story of miraculous healing was truly unforgettable.

After surviving a horrific wreck—something she should not have lived through—she faced the very real possibility of losing her legs. Doctors doubted. Healing seemed uncertain. Even walking again felt out of reach. And yet, in that place of deep trial, she encountered a word she had never fully understood before: testify.

Through the power and mercy of God, not only did she keep her legs, but she went on to do what once seemed impossible—she walked a marathon. And there she stood before us, whole, strong, and full of faith, declaring the goodness of God.

It was more than a testimony—it was a living picture of grace in motion.

The theme of our gathering was flowers, and as I sat at the table, my heart turned to Scripture:

“And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin.”
— Matthew 6:28

At Table 4, we gathered as women carrying responsibilities, hopes, and even quiet burdens. And Jesus, knowing hearts like ours, pointed us to something as tender as a flower to teach us about trust.

Throughout Scripture, flowers quietly preach truth:

God’s Provision
Lilies do not strive or strain, yet God clothes them in beauty. If He tends to something so fleeting, how much more will He care for you?

Human Frailty
We are like flowers of the field—here for a moment, then gone. Yet the Word of our God stands forever.

Restoration and Hope
God causes deserts to bloom again. Dry places are never beyond His reach.

Love and Delight
Flowers in Song of Solomon remind us that we are not simply sustained—we are cherished and delighted in.

Flowers bloom for a season, but they return again and again. Their rhythm mirrors our own lives—flourishing, fading, and blooming again through the faithful hand of God.

And after hearing Leana’s story, those flowers seemed to say even more:

God restores what seemed lost.
God strengthens what seemed broken.
God brings life where there was once only fear.

So as I looked at the flowers on our table—and at the women gathered around it—I sensed the Lord gently whispering:

You are seen.
You are sustained.
You are deeply loved.

To the Lubbock Christian Women’s Connection, thank you for such a lovely afternoon, for your warm welcome, and for creating a space where faith and sisterhood bloom so beautifully.

May we all continue walking this Prayerful Path… learning to trust the One who tends every petal.


Prayer

Heavenly Father,

thank You for the gentle lessons You place all around us. In flowers, in friendships, and in testimonies of grace, You remind us that You are always at work.Help us to trust You the way the lilies do—without striving, without fear, simply resting in Your care. Thank You for stories like Leana’s that remind us You still heal, You still restore, and You still call us to testify to Your goodness.For every woman reading this, let Your peace settle deeply.
Where there is weariness, bring rest.
Where there is fear, bring courage.
Where there is dryness, bring new life.Teach us to bloom in every season and to walk faithfully wherever Your grace leads.We love You, Lord.
Amen.

Be Still… Means What?

Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!
” — Psalm 46:10

Yesterday was a busy day! My mind was already rehearsing everything on the schedule: a discussion thread for my Theology of the Gospel class, breathing exercises, and those pesky diphthongs and consonants slowing me down as I practiced the two contest pieces for The Sweet Adelines. My sisters in the group are so graceful—their movements flow effortlessly from their beautiful singing. How do they do that? Their unity, precision, and blend make every rehearsal feel like stepping into something artful and spiritual at the same time.

But as I moved into the rhythm of my morning, I suddenly realized I was stepping into my day without King Jesus. My heart wanted to be still. I wanted to listen. I wanted to walk with Him, not ahead of Him—so He could show me how even my simple, ordinary day could be used to further His Kingdom. It was in that quiet awareness that the Holy Spirit spoke so gently to my spirit: “Be still and know that I am God.”
Be still. Even the words felt like a soft place to rest.

A Closer Look at Psalm 46:10

Psalm 46:10 marks the climax of the psalm, where the voice shifts dramatically from human speakers to God Himself. It moves from describing God to hearing directly from God. It is an invitation, not just a statement.

“Be still”

The Hebrew command does not simply mean “be quiet” or “calm down.”
It means:

  • Lay down your weapons.
  • Stop striving.
  • Cease your war.

It’s a call to stop fighting battles that belong to God.

“Know that I am God”

This is not about having all the answers or understanding every detail of God’s timing. This knowing is:

  • recognizing God’s ultimate sovereignty,
  • trusting Him when the script is unclear,
  • surrendering control.

And God’s sovereignty is not small or private—it stretches among the nations and throughout the earth. His glory is not limited to one moment or one people. It is universal.


What It Meant to the Original Audience

Psalm 46 was a declaration of trust in the midst of overwhelming threat. Scholars identify the probable historical backdrop as the terrifying advance of Sennacherib’s Assyrian army. Nations were raging, kingdoms were shaking, and everything around them screamed danger.

Yet the refrain carried Israel through:

God is with us.
God is our refuge.
God is our peace—even when creation itself trembles.

The psalm offered ancient Judah the same thing it offers us today: unshakeable confidence in an unshakable God.


Why It Matters Today

Our world, too, feels loud:

  • natural disasters,
  • climate anxieties,
  • wars and rumors of wars,
  • personal chaos and constant noise.

Psalm 46 speaks directly into our age of hurry. It is a soundtrack for human anxiety. Mountains quake, waters roar, nations rise and fall—and our hearts do the same.

God’s invitation to stillness is not an escape or self-manufactured calm. True stillness begins with Him.
With knowing Him.
With receiving His peace rather than producing our own.

In fact, when read through an eschatological lens—a vision of God’s final victory—the psalm becomes even more powerful. It reminds us:

The world may shake,
but God does not.

And one day every nation and every corner of the earth will exalt Him.

Let it be so in my life.
Let it be so in your life.


A Prayer

Heavenly Father,

I come before You, letting go of my busyness and lifting my hands in exaltation, because You will be exalted in the earth. I choose not to fight against Your will. I gladly make You sovereign in my heart and in my day.

Receive my praise—why it is worthy to enter Your presence is a mystery I will never understand this side of heaven. But I offer it in faith. I acknowledge You as the Supreme God of my life and proclaim Your greatness with all I am.

Alleluia!

In Jesus’ precious name,
Amen.