I listened to an interview with a mental health professional in which he described his work with patients who have schizophrenia. There are people in my life in both directions, my mother and my son, who have struggled with inner voices. Which is why the interview moved me deeply. He described the power of simply saying the 23rd Psalm. Those words targeted the evil voices in ways
that made them furious, and sometimes retreat.
Years ago I read a story in which that psalm had a unique effect. A family was traveling in Mexico in an RV. On their last night they heard banging and shouting, and woke up to see three masked men breaking in. The father leaped to protect his wife and little girl, shielding them from the man with the knife. The strangers began ransacking the camper, looking for valuables. The father sent up a prayer, asking God to
help him.
"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies," he heard the familiar quote.
Huh? Was he supposed to feed these guys? He looked at them differently and saw not thieves, but three teenagers. They looked both poorer than he had ever been, and inexperienced at crime. He felt a wave of compassion.
"Here, you are missing the best stuff," he said as he opened up the drawer where
his wallet and camera were.
"See? It takes pictures. And here is an ipod. Hear the music?" He was starting to enjoy giving them things.
The bandits were confused. Their bravado was wearing off.
"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies." He heard it again.
Food! The father rummaged in the small refrigerator and got out some
leftover hummus. Naw, they probably wouldn't like that. He grabbed an apple and held it out to the first invader. Their hands almost touched, as the apple passed between them, and they looked at each other wordlessly.
Then the second robber started shouting. He wanted them to start moving.
"Ok," he thought. "This is when we drive into the desert, and they kill us." He anxiously started the engine, and his little girl, who did not
understand danger, smiled up at the Mexican men. Should he slow down and push his wife and daughter out the door so they could escape?
Then the father remembered his prayer and tried to imagine what he would do if he were on a trip with friends.
He would sing. He broke into the only Spanish song he knew.
"Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad!" His daughter sang too. The Mexicans were
amused.
After a while the men shouted to him to stop the camper.
"Now is when they murder us," he groaned. But the men opened the door. He had driven them home.
In broken English the first man tried to apologize. "We poor. We so sorry. Your family, so nice. We are sorry."
He gave back the credit cards. "We cannot use." He gave back some money. "For gas. So
sorry."
He watched them go into their ramshackle house. Then he folded his wife and daughter into his arms, and sobbed.
The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters.
He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.
Yea, 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.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup runs over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life;
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord
Forever.
