Most of us know the opening line by heart: "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." But when is the last time Psalm 23 actually landed — not just running through your mind like a familiar song, but dropping into your soul and doing something there? In this episode, I share a story about what Psalm 23 can do in the middle of cancer, because it shows what happens when one ancient scripture becomes a shepherd walking you through the darkest valley of your life.
HOW PSALM 23 CARRIED A MAN THROUGH CANCER
The story belongs to a man named Alex MacDougall, and it starts the way a lot of great faith stories do — at a Billy Graham crusade. Alex was eighteen, fresh out of school, when he walked into that crusade in Anaheim, California, heard Graham preach on becoming a new creation in Christ, and gave his life to Jesus. One of the songs that night was a hymn built on Psalm 23 — "Surely goodness and mercy." Alex never forgot it. He didn't know it yet, but God had just planted a seed he wouldn't need for more than fifty years.
THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW
Fast-forward. Alex is seventy-one, teaching, enjoying life, when he starts having trouble swallowing. By the time he sees a doctor, months have passed — and the diagnosis is cancer. The treatment ahead was brutal: chemotherapy, radiation, surgery. He described being "dehydrated, unable to swallow or stand, on oxygen and in pain." Then he said one of the most honest things I've ever heard about a cancer valley: "I truly felt as if I was passing through the valley of the shadow of death." Not metaphorically. Actually. And that's precisely when God brought back the seed He'd planted fifty-three years earlier.
THE SONG HE PRESSED PLAY ON
Early in treatment, Alex chose a "theme song" — an anchor for the moments his own words ran out. He chose Psalm 23, set to music: the same words sung over him at eighteen. So in the hardest moments — on oxygen, unable to stand or swallow — he'd pick up his phone and press play. Here's what he said happened: "I became undone with emotion. This was my turning point. Those beautiful words and God's presence changed everything again. I was assured that He was in control and would comfort me." Changed everything — again. The same Shepherd, the same voice, the same still waters — right in the middle of the chemo and the oxygen tanks. As Psalm 23:4 promises, "Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me." Not a shortcut around the valley — a Shepherd in it.
GOD IS ALWAYS PLANTING SEEDS
Here's what I don't want you to miss, because I think we overlook it constantly. God was present at that crusade when Alex was eighteen, planted Psalm 23 in him, and then waited fifty-three years to bring it back at exactly the right moment. That's how God works — always planting, always preparing, always depositing things in us for seasons we haven't reached yet. I've seen it in my own journey: scriptures I heard as a kid showing up at 3 a.m. when I couldn't sleep, and verses a pastor spoke years before my diagnosis that suddenly felt written for the exact moment I was in. God is always working ahead.
PEACE BEFORE THE OUTCOME
There's one moment I don't want to rush past. Facing a risky surgery he might not survive, Alex said: "I didn't know if I would survive the operation, but I knew that I had hope, inner peace and confidence that I was in God's hands." Peace — before the outcome was known. That's the peace of Philippians 4:7, the peace that transcends understanding, arriving before the scan comes back. As Isaiah 41:10 says, "I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." God held Alex up through a surgery he didn't know he'd survive. He will hold you up, too.
THE MIRACLE THAT MATTERS
Alex's update is remarkable: eleven months past surgery, he can eat and swallow again, his strength and clarity are back, and his doctor says he shows no cancer. "I am a walking miracle," he wrote. But hear this clearly — the miracle that matters most isn't the healing. Because even if the cancer had not retreated, the faith, the peace, and the Shepherd in the valley would still be true. The real miracle is a man on oxygen, unable to swallow, pressing play to hear words planted in him fifty-three years earlier — and finding the Shepherd still right there. That miracle doesn't depend on the scan results.
YOUR ANCHOR SCRIPTURE
So let me ask you: is there a scripture, a song, or a verse that meant something to you once — that stuck, that you can still hear in the back of your mind? That may not be a coincidence. God might have planted it for exactly this season. And if you don't have an anchor scripture yet, let me offer you one: Psalm 23. All of it. Read it today. Read it in the chemo chair, in the waiting room, at 3 a.m., on the good days and the hard days — and let the Shepherd who inspired every word be present with you in the reading. Because as Romans 8:38–39 promises, nothing — not cancer, not chemo, not fear, not even death — can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus. The Shepherd doesn't let go.
YOU ARE NEVER ALONE
And if you've never said yes to Jesus, the Shepherd isn't only for people who already know the psalm — He's looking for you, right now, in whatever valley you're in. He knows your name, and He's saying what He's always said: come, follow me, I will lead you beside quiet waters and refresh your soul. If you'd like to take that step — or you just need the reminder — visit the Accepting Jesus page under Join and Connect on our site. I created it, and I still visit it often.
No matter what you're facing on your journey — with cancer or in life — always remember: you are NEVER ALONE. The good Shepherd, Jesus, is always with you.
Until next time, have an awesome week, and God bless you.
Read Alex MacDougall's full story at Premier Christianity — I'd really encourage it, and share it with someone who needs a Shepherd in their valley today.