Back in 2015, I was studying abroad in Cape Town, South Africa. While I was there, my grandma and mom made a trip to come and visit. During their stay we went and did so many things that I’ll remember as long as I live, but one day was dedicated totally to climbing Table Mountain. We chose to hike via Platteklip Gorge, an “easy” trail that is about three kilometers of endless switchbacks of steps. 

For three very inexperienced hikers, we very much underestimated the difficulty of the trail. And we were under-prepared. We easily ran out of water about a quarter-way into the hike. As we took frequent breaks– did I mention it was all steps?– we were keeping pace with a man that said he was hiking with his friends, but they all left him behind.

So what makes goodness different from kindness? Aren’t they the same thing? I used to feel the same way. The short answer is, they are similar but not the same. In Galatians, the Greek word for kindness is chrestotes, like we learned last week, but goodness is derived from the word, agathosune. Where kindness means serviceable or helpful in a tender, concerned way, goodness means “virtue equipped at any point,” or a more righteous integrity.

Over the last month, we’ve been picking apart Psalm 23, one of the most recognizable passages of scripture there is. David, the author of the psalm was a king, a shepherd, a son, but most importantly, a man that was passionately invested in a relationship with God. If anyone understood the deep nuances of every line of this psalm, it was David himself. If there was anyone qualified to compare God to a shepherd, it was David.In six, short verses, we were taken through the green pastures and still waters of a life laid in submission to the Lord; a life that allows God to lead and take care of our needs. From there, we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, an ominous valley surrounded by the trials of life on all sides. Then, we sit down at a table prepared by the Lord, but a table set in a room full of our enemies, an oasis of comfort and rest in the middle of a not-so-wonderful situation.

CANCELLED. That’s never a word you want to see next to your flight number at the airport. This past weekend, my husband and I flew up to New York to watch our friends get engaged. We flew in Friday night, hung out this weekend, and the plan was to fly back home Sunday night to be back in time for work on Monday morning. But clearly, we were in store for other plans.