The Right Path

We create 'desire paths' in our spiritual journeys all the time. We want the shortcut to success. The quickest route to happiness. We want to bypass the pain. And go directly to inner peace.

My wife and I have a cousin named Brian. He’s a gypsy nomad. An amazing fellow who wanders in and out of our life.  

​Of all his great qualities, there’s one I try emulate. That’s being present, in the here and now.

When Brian’s around, he gives you his all. But when it’s time to move on, he goes; following wherever the wind blows him next.

​We’ve spent the last two weeks learning how to follow a Shepherd, who knows our wants. But here’s the thing: We can’t stay in these green pastures forever.

​Eventually, the grass will be eaten down. The sun will move. The season will change. And like Brian, we need to know when it’s time to move on.

During Lent, we spend 40 days in the wilderness. And just as we’re getting the hang of things, the wind blows. Our Shepherd taps his staff on the ground and says, "Time to move."

This brings us to the third verse of Psalm 23: 

"He restores my soul; he leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake."
                                      Psalm 23:3

As we’ve been learning, this psalm is personal. And has a purpose. The Lord restores my soul.

To understand how the Shepherd does this, all we need to do is look at how the world’s greatest treasures are rescued from the slow decay of time.

Take the Birth of Venus, a masterpiece painted by Sandro Botticelli (shown here).

Over the centuries, it collected layers of soot and dust. The varnish yellowed, making the vibrant colors fade to a dull gray.

Birth of Venus by Sandro Botticelli

The painting was still there, but its essence and beauty was buried.

To bring back the color, the restorers carefully and meticulously peeled back the grime until its original brilliance returned. No paint was necessary. Just the removal of what didn’t belong.

The poet declares, "He restores my soul."  The Hebrew word, shub, literally means "to return,” and “to bring home." The shepherd brings my soul home. Returning me to God who restores me back to my original beauty.

Isn’t that our intent for our Lent fasts? To remove what isn’t needed. I think God uses this time to restore us back into the masterpiece we were created to be.

But what makes restoration so difficult isn’t the years of grime we’ve collected. It’s our ego that refuses to let those layers go. We get comfortable in our muted grays; forgetting how vibrant we are in living color.

We might think God adds a little extra paint to restore our beauty. But really, all God does is gently peel away what’s unnecessary.  The shame, the guilt, the burdens we carry with us.

And that’s the pattern. The Shepherd doesn’t return us home until the soul is restored.

So many of us try to walked the right paths, hoping God will fix us. As if God needs a down payment and  a signed contract before committing to care for us. That’s not how grace works.

Just as mercy is the Shepherd’s decision not to leave us in our comfortable mess, God’s grace is the gift of being made whole when we’ve done nothing to earn it.

Grace is the solvent God uses to peel back the grime of shame and guilt that linger over us. Once the soot is cleared, we can see where to step. The path of righteousness.

The psalmist calls this path a magal—a word that bears no resemblance to a paved sidewalk or a manicured trail. A magal is a "well-worn track" or a "circuit." A small, narrow path carved into the limestone by the weight of a thousand steady sheep.

Magals often hug the steep sides of mountains, holding the space between the rocks and ravines. But the Shepherd knows they’re the way to the next green pasture.

While the poet Robert Frost invites down this “road less traveled,” we tend to take, or make, a different kind of trail. Urban planners call them ‘desire paths.’ These are those diagonal dirt tracks cut into the grass by people taking shortcuts to where they want to go.

We make them because we’re always in a hurry. Always rushing without a care of where we’re stepping, or who we’re stepping on, until we find ourselves stuck in a dark ravine.

We create these 'desire paths' in our spiritual journeys all the time. We want the shortcut to success. The quickest route to happiness. We want to bypass the pain. And go directly to inner peace.

​We don’t want to do the hard work of restoration. We want the easy way, not the righteous way. I mean, let’s be real, how far does being morally upright get you these days?

But here’s the thing, to the psalmist, a 'path of righteousness' isn’t about being a good Boy Scout. It simply means “the right path.”

This isn't always the fastest way, and it’s rarely the easiest. But it’s the only one that actually leads you to where your heart belongs. That space in God’s presence where you find your rest and restoration.

Jesus says, "I am the way" (John 14:6). Not just because knows the right path back to God’s heart. But because He fully embodies God’s heart.

Whenever we’ve lost our way, or have no idea where we’re going or how we got into the mess we’re in all we have to do is look at Jesus. And follow the way of our Good Shepherd, whose “yoke is easy” and whose “burden is light” (Matthew 11:30).

During his time in the wilderness, Jesus traded his own 'desire paths' for God’s narrow magal. 

He allowed God to strip him of the layers of grime that naturally come with being human in an inhumane world. Jesus says, “Anyone who wants to follow me must deny themselves, and pick up your cross, and follow.”

But do you trust him enough to do the hard work of letting go of your ego, and allowing God to restore you back to the Divine essence you were created from.

If we are honest with ourselves, we know our own shortcuts have only led us into a briar patch of exhaustion and anxiety. They have trapped us in dark shadows of fear and shame.

But here’s the good news. Our Shepherd never abandons the sheep. With a patient nudge of the staff, we are moved back onto the right path 'for his name’s sake.'   

We must not forget that as personal as this psalm is, it’s not about us. It’s about the shepherd. In the ancient world, a shepherd’s reputation was tied entirely to the condition of the flock. A shepherd with thin, diseased, or lost sheep was a failure. But the one with a healthy and safe flock was honored.

This Psalm tells us that God doesn't tend to us because we are good. God does all this because God is good. It’s not our reputation on the line. It’s God’s.

Which should take the pressure off us entirely. We don't have to perform or prove our way into righteousness. We simply have to stay close to the One whose name is at stake.

Jesus spent his entire ministry showing us how to do this. But he warns us that the way is narrow and the path is hard. Because genuine, sacrificial love will always challenge us. Our ego will always seek the 'desire path' of least resistance.

If we are to believe the gospel—to truly trust the path it reveals—then we must take the difficult steps forward, knowing the Shepherd walks beside us down this well-worn track of grace.

This week, I want you to look at the magals in your life—those small, repetitive tracks you walk every day. Ask yourself: Where are they leading me?

When you choose to pause before a sharp retort, you are stepping onto the magal of peace.

When you choose to give from your "enough" rather than your "extra," you are following the track of generosity.

Every time you refuse to justify a shortcut at someone else's expense, you are resisting the 'desire path' of the ego and trusting the Shepherd’s slower, surer route.

Don't wait for a grand invitation to change your life. Restoration happens in the steps you take, in the tight turns, when the ledge feels narrow between the rocks and ravines.

You do not walk this path alone. We walk it together. Not as sheep but as a community knitted together in love.

The track is already there, carved by the One who knows exactly where the green pastures lie. Let’s walk it. Let’s trust the groove instead of trying to out-walk the One who created it.

Because the Shepherd’s name is on the line. And so far, He has never lost a single sheep.