Note: From time to time I will share reflections that I wrote in my work as a pastor that still speak to me and I hope to you. If you like, include this reflection as part of your own quiet, reflective time. This reflection was previously published as part of the “Psalms for Living” faith study at Incarnation Lutheran Church that I co-developed with Denise Floe. It was included in Session 1: The Psalms & Holy Curiosity.

I love to drive, and I don’t mind a longer commute. The drive to and from Incarnation, the church I served for many years, gave me time to think, or listen to podcasts and audiobooks, or simply enjoy the quiet of being alone in the car. Even though I love to drive, I’ll admit that when we first moved to Hudson and I would drive home, there was a section of road on I-94 between Woodbury Drive and the St. Croix River that seemed to go on forever. Over time though, the route became so familiar that time would pass quickly. Sometimes I would barely notice the details and I would be surprised to discover that I was already at the river, crossing the bridge into Wisconsin.

When we adopted our daughter from China, we decided that it made more sense for her to go to daycare near Incarnation than near our home. When I returned to work after family leave, four-year-old Tillie also began commuting from Hudson to Shoreview. The early days were interesting because she was just beginning to learn English, so I had to figure out ways to help her pass the time.

One morning as we crossed the bridge over the St. Croix River, the sun was shining brightly and dancing off the water. It was so beautiful, so I said “Hello, water!” Tillie copied me in her sweet four-year-old voice, “Hello, water!” It was almost a prayer of gratitude. With those two words, an adventure began. We began the adventure of noticing and naming certain markers on our journey. We’d say hello to our neighbors’ house: “Hello, Chris and Kristin’s house!” “Hello, school bus!” “Hello, hospital!” “Hello, big boats!” “Hello, fire station!” As Tillie’s capacity for the English language grew, we noticed and named more things. When we’d say hello to the two horses and a pony by the red barn, Tillie would declare, “They’re a family like us!” Yes, honey, they’re a family like us.

This adventure of noticing and naming became a holy curiosity for what was happening in the world around us. It was a delight to see things through Tillie’s eyes. I gained fresh perspective on what had formerly been a routine drive, often on auto pilot.

Psalm 23 is likely the most well known and probably most beloved of all the psalms. It is often read at funerals, and for good reason. The phrase “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death (23:4, Revised Standard Version)” was familiar to me, even as a young person. Sometimes, though, like on a well-traveled road, familiarity can blind us to the riches of a Bible passage. Either we think it only belongs to a particular occasion or we think we know it and so we stop paying attention to the details.

What if we approach scripture with holy curiosity, with hearts and minds ready to notice and to wonder, or imagining ourselves in the story?

Personally, I love Psalm 23. It is one of my favorites because it is so rich. Yes, it is wonderful and powerful to read at a funeral; but frankly it speaks to me in everyday life too. Hello, green pastures and still waters. Hello, restored soul. Hello, darkest valley. Lord, I fear no evil for you are with me. Hello, table and overflowing cup. Hello, goodness and mercy that pursues me all the days of my life. Lord, I shall dwell in your house with gratitude!

In what part of your life would you like to pay closer attention? How could you approach it with holy curiosity and the adventure of noticing?

What has helped you to gain fresh perspective lately?