God Touching You

INTRODUCTION

A college macroeconomics professor once explained the difference between durable and nondurable goods.

Durable goods are things expected to last three years or more.

Nondurables get used up pretty quickly.

He asked, “Can anyone give me an example of a durable good?”

A student called out, “Fruitcake!”

Honestly, he’s not wrong. Those things are indestructible.

We laugh, but it’s true:

this season is full of gifts, full of touches of love, full of reminders that we matter to one another.

We love giving.

We love receiving.

We love the feeling of connection.

Thanksgiving might still be cooling in the fridge, and our hearts might not feel fully shifted into Christmas yet, but Christmas isn’t waiting. It’s here. Lights are going up. Calendars are filling. And the word Advent reminds us what’s really happening: Jesus comes.

God draws near.

He touches the world.

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TRANSITION

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If you’ve ever seen Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam” painted across the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, you know the part everyone remembers. God reaching from one side. Adam reaching from the other. Fingers stretched, almost touching. All the power of life and love in that tiny space between them.

That moment captures something we all crave.

Have you ever felt desperate for God’s touch?

You were worn down.

You were running on fumes.

You were surrounded by chaos or disappointment or a sense that life was piling up faster than you could handle.

And deep inside, you knew: “I just need God to touch me. Right here. Right now.”

The beautiful truth is that God’s touch is already everywhere.

We see it in creation.

We taste it in daily grace.

We feel it in those surprising moments when peace sneaks up on us.

He is Immanuel —

God. With. Us.

Psalm 23 gives us a close look at how He touches our lives.

Let’s walk through it together and notice three divine touches that reveal the shepherd-heart of God.

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I. GOD SHEPHERDS US

Psalm 23:1–3

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David begins with a statement of confidence: “The Lord is my Shepherd.”

Not “a shepherd”…

Not “the Shepherd”…

“My Shepherd.”

It’s personal.

And yet the comparison is humbling, because sheep are famous for one thing:

needing help.

Philip Keller, who actually worked as a shepherd, once wrote that sheep require more attention than any other livestock. Left alone, they’d eat a pasture down to dirt and ruin it. They get stuck in places no animal should logically get stuck. They panic easily. They follow whatever is in front of them, even if it’s the backside of another sheep walking straight off a cliff.

This is not God complimenting our intelligence.

It’s God reminding us of His faithfulness.

When we say “The Lord is my Shepherd,” we’re saying: “I don’t have to know everything.

I don’t have to fix everything.

I don’t have to carry everything.

I have Someone leading me.”

He meets real needs — physical, emotional, spiritual, relational.

He gives rest when we’re stretched thin.

He restores what stress tries to steal.

He guides us on the right paths — not just the convenient ones, the courageous ones.

Someone once said: “If you don’t like where you’re headed, you might need a different Shepherd.”

Albert Einstein once found himself crawling on a train floor searching for his misplaced ticket. The conductor said,

“Dr. Einstein, we know who you are. Don’t worry about the ticket.”

Einstein replied, “I know who I am, too. What I don’t know is where I’m going!”

Without a Shepherd, we all end up on the floor, searching for direction without a clue where we’re headed.

Jesus steps in with stunning clarity: “I am the Good Shepherd.

I lay down my life for the sheep.”

(John 10:11)

His touch guides us.

We are not alone.

We are not directionless.

We are led.

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II. GOD SETTLES US

Psalm 23:4

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“He leads me beside quiet waters.”

“He restores my soul.”

“I will fear no evil, for You are with me.”

God doesn’t just guide us.

He calms us.

A missionary in the Middle East once wrote about a shepherd whose flock grazed near the sound of gunfire. Every time shots rang out, the sheep scattered in fear. The shepherd would walk calmly to each one, touch its side gently with his staff, whispering something soothing.

One by one, they settled.

Not because the danger was gone.

Because the shepherd was there.

Life does that to us.

Gunshots of bad news.

Explosions of stress.

Ambushes of grief or betrayal or unexpected change.

We scatter.

We tremble.

We brace for the worst.

Then our Shepherd lays a hand on us: “Breathe.

I’m here.

You’re safe with Me.”

There’s a moment in Psalm 23 where everything shifts: “You are with me.”

Not a theory.

Not a promise pinned to the fridge.