The Shepherd and Still Waters
Trusting God through the joy and anxiety of pregnancy
I’m not a fan of needles.
Not sure who is, I guess. But I really, really don’t like them.
So it was difficult for me to watch a very large, shiny needle being placed into the abdomen of my wife, Becca. (Yes, it was far more difficult for her. And yes, she is way tougher than I am.)
She was undergoing a procedure to drain amniotic fluid from the uterus during pregnancy to counteract too much fluid around our baby. This condition (called polyhydramnios) sometimes has a cause, but in our case, there’s no apparent reason for it
The associated risks include pre-term labor, birth defects, and (at the extreme end) health risks to both mom and baby.
And so there I was, in a hospital room in Denver, watching 1.5 liters (!!) of fluid drained out of my wife’s body, through that intimidating needle, and into a container in the nurse’s hands.
What a world we live in.
And what a world we are about to welcome our fifth child into — our first son.
Baby Boy Dillon is due in the middle of July, but because of the fluid issue, it’s likely he’ll come sooner. (Becca is still planning on July though, so as to not feel like the next month lasts 10 years. She’s not just tough, she’s smart too.)
We have had our fair share of challenges when it’s come to pregnancy and the birth of our little ones. We’ve lost five pregnancies to miscarriage. Our third daughter needed spinal surgery at four months.
And right now, we have good friends who recently lost their newborn baby, and others who are seeing their daughter go through another round of major medical procedures. Our hearts ache for and with them.
So it is not lost on us just how precious life is, nor how blessed we are to have four beautiful kids and another who looks like he’ll enter the world healthy and happy — no matter how much fluid he’s been swimming through.
But these realities don’t always keep us from worrying and wondering — what’s going to happen?
What if Becca’s fluid gets too high again, and we have to induce early?
What if her water breaks and things move too quickly for us to get to a hospital?
What kind of complications will baby have when he comes — perhaps issues breathing or swallowing?
This is a similar place from which David writes his famous Psalm. Psalm 23 is perhaps the most famous Psalm, and one of the most beloved chapters of the Bible.
It is simple, but profound. It is a poem about peace in the face of pain. Light in the midst of darkness.
And its words have been a comfort to us as we’ve walked through this pregnancy:
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake.
(Psalm 23: 1–3)
God is “my shepherd,” David says. A good shepherd leads, guides, provides and protects. A shepherd is always near, always watching, always waiting.
What does it look like to “lie down in green pastures?” It sounds relaxing, but it’s deeper than that. A sheep that lies down in green pastures has no fear of a predator. The sheep is not looking over the hill, wondering what problems might lie ahead.
A sheep with a good shepherd can rest and be restored.
The shepherd is with me. And He leads me beside still waters.
I can’t help but think of the waters inside my wife’s womb, the ones that keep our son safe and alive — and yet at the same time are causing issues for both he and his mom.
Maybe this kid is going to be a great swimmer. Or a white water rafting guide on the Arkansas river. Maybe he’s just going to be really good at going with the flow (he’ll need to be with four older sisters).
Whatever the case, I find myself praying for still waters. For the fluid to stay at a normal level. For God to give him just what he needs. For protection and provision for my beautiful bride in the days and weeks to come.
Life is fragile. The waters can rise quickly. But it’s in these moments of concern that I remember:
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.
(Psalm 23:4)
David knew very well what it was like to walk through the valley of the shadow of death. He faced very real threats on his life. He knew that at any moment, his world could come crashing down around him.
But he says he will “fear no evil.” How is that possible? Only because he knows the Shepherd is with him.
And this Shepherd has tools of protection at his disposal. A rod and a staff to guide, redirect and defend his sheep.
What incredible comfort to know that our Shepherd doesn’t only watch over us, he watches over our children. He knows them and loves them even more than we possibly could.
To quote from another Psalm, God has formed our son inside his mother’s womb. He is fearfully and wonderfully made.
Having been a dad now for 10 years, I can tell you that the only thing harder than trusting Jesus with your life is trusting Him with the lives of your children.
But He is my Shepherd — and He is theirs as well.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.
(Psalm 23:5–6)
Not only does the Shepherd allow us to rest without fear, he even lets us feast in front of our enemies. It’s as if the very things we’re afraid of, anxious about or threatened by, become a silent audience to our joyful celebration.
We are “anointed” — chosen and blessed. Our cup overflows — we have so much more than we need.
We’re swimming in blessings.
And it’s because of that reality that we can trust in God’s goodness and mercy, not just now, but always.
When baby is born any day now, we will take him home as soon as we’re able to, maybe after a brief NICU stay.
He doesn’t know it yet, but he already has a home, a dwelling place with us for as long as he lives. He will never not be a Dillon.
So it is for us in Jesus. When we trust in Him, we are saved, chosen, adopted, and blessed through his death and resurrection. We are brought home into our Father’s house.
You will never not be God’s child. You will never not be loved. You have a home, forever. Not even the shadow of death can change that.
As we await the birth our boy, we know there will be moments of anxiety and uncertainty ahead. And that’s only the being born part.
Because then we’’ll have to face sleepless nights, his first cough, learning to walk, the “terrible two’s,” potty training, kindergarten, broken bones, his deciding to cheer for the Raiders (or something terrifying like that), puberty, driver’s ed, prom, college and…
Well, the waters of worry do get stirred up quickly, don’t they? But then we remember: we have a good Shepherd. And He leads us to still waters.
Surely, we can trust in Him. Surely, we can rest in Him. Surely, we can believe He has good things ahead for us.
And for our children.
