A few days before my father-in-law, Dan Adkison, was promoted to Glory, he shared with us a verse from the Psalms that had become meaningful to him: “The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance” (Psalm 16:6 NIV). As he reflected on his experiences, he was struck with gratitude for the places and people God had placed in the boundaries of his life. 

This past season has been one of reflection and, to be honest, loss and sadness. Not long before Dan’s passing, we also lost General Paul Rader, a giant in our movement and a personal encourager and hero of mine. General Rader had been a soldier at our corps, served as president of Asbury University during my student years, and was an extraordinary example of holy living. His influence provided a model of how to live a faithful and godly life.

Losing these two faithful men in close succession caused me to step back and examine my own life — not with fear or despair, but with a quiet gratitude and a renewed desire to walk faithfully in the path laid before me. Since then, I’ve dwelt often on Psalm 16, and I have been encouraged by its message of God’s eternal refuge, protection and intimacy for those who rely on, and trust in the Lord and His counsel. 

David begins this psalm with an earnest and direct prayer: “Keep me safe, my God, for in you I take refuge” (Psalm 16:1 NIV). These aren’t abstract words. They are the honest prayer of someone seeking God’s nearness amid uncertainty. As I reflect on the witness of my father-in-law and General Rader, I hear their lives echo this prayer — lives that found security not in their accomplishments, but in their Savior.

The Gift of Limitations

It is common to hear that we can be anything we want, go anywhere we choose, and live without limits — “you do you,” the spunky sidekick might say to an on-screen protagonist. But Scripture offers a different vision. Rather than limitless freedom, we’re given a life shaped by holy boundaries — given by God and for our good. Psalm 16 celebrates these gifts. It reframes limitation not as restriction, but as inheritance. Boundaries, in the biblical imagination, are not fences that box us in, but lines that define the beautiful land we’ve been given. They are gifts, not punishments.

“You are my Lord,” the psalmist declares, “apart from you I have no good thing” (Psalm 16:2 NIV). That’s not the voice of someone begrudging God’s limits. Instead, it recognizes the Lord is not a restrictor of freedom, but the source of all goodness. 

As a musician, I’ve come to appreciate this paradox intimately. As a young musician, I imagined that creativity flows from absolute freedom, but in truth, it’s the constraints that challenge and inspire us. A composer crafting a singable tune to a psalm text for a congregation, or an arranger setting a hymn tune for a meditation knows the challenge of shaping beauty within boundaries. Limitations do not stifle creativity — they ignite it.

Composer Igor Stravinsky, in his book, Poetics in Music, said, “The more constraints one imposes, the more one frees oneself…” I’ve seen this to be true time and time again. The more I work within the framework I’ve been given — whether in music, in ministry, or in life — the more I find joy in the God who graciously defines the contours of my calling.

Singing Psalm 16

Psalm 16:11 (NIV) is cited in The Salvation Army Song Book as the inspiration for the hymn “He Leadeth Me.” That verse reads: “You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.” It’s a verse of assurance, of guidance, of a quiet trust in God’s direction.

This hymn, written in 1862 by American pastor and theologian Joseph Gilmore during the Civil War, has accompanied me through many seasons of life. Salvationists have sung it for generations, most commonly to the bright and buoyant tune by William Bradbury — an uplifting melody that reflects confidence in God’s leading.

But there’s a newer tune that has deeply shaped my experience of this hymn. James Curnow, another godly man that has helped shape and encourage me, composed a choral setting of “He Leadeth Me” for the first edition of Sing Praise that was later arranged for congregational singing in the Hallelujah Chorus journal for Salvation Army bands. This melody is more subdued, tender, and introspective. It seems to whisper rather than shout, “He leadeth me … ”

Musically, Curnow’s setting employs a reoccuring descending second — sometimes as an appoggiatura (a brief ornament that leans into a note with a touch of yearning), and other times as a suspension that resolves gently. When I sing this version, especially the repeated “He leadeth me,” the first statement feels like a question, as though I’m not sure I can believe and the second seems to be in hope that it might in fact be true. Altogether, it feels less like a declaration and more like an invitation — an encouraging nudge to keep following, even when the path ahead isn’t entirely clear.

“I keep my eyes always on the Lord. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken” (Psalm 16:8 NIV). That’s the assurance I hear in both the psalm and the hymn. One bright and bold, the other quiet and contemplative — but both pointing to the same unshakable trust in God’s presence.

The Psalms Invite Us In

One of the remarkable gifts of the Psalms is that they come to us without melodies. These ancient songs were written down long before musical notation existed. While that might seem like a loss, it can also be seen as an invitation. Because we do not have their original tunes, we’re free to make them our own — to set them to new music, to speak them aloud in our own voices, to let them shape our prayers and worship throughout the generations.

In this way, the Psalms remind us of a central truth of our faith: the God who is redeeming the world has invited us to participate in His work. When we sing the Psalms, we join a chorus of saints through the centuries who have trusted God in joy, sorrow, longing, and praise.

“Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure” (Psalm 16:9 NIV). That’s the kind of joy I want to live out — and to pass on. Not the fleeting joy of getting everything I want, but the enduring joy that comes from walking in the path of life that God has revealed.

A Call to Return

If you’ve drifted from the Psalms — or if they’ve felt unfamiliar or too distant — I encourage you to take a fresh look. Read them slowly. Pray them aloud. Sing them, to old melodies or new ones. Let Psalm 16 be a starting point: a reminder that God has created you and placed you, not randomly, but purposefully. That the boundaries of time, place, and possibility that at times might seem to constrain, might be the blessings of “pleasant places” and a “delightful inheritance.” That the life of faithfulness, holiness, and service is not a maze you must figure out, but a road you are invited to walk, led by a Shepherd who knows your name. 

AN OPEN INVITATION

You can receive the free gift of salvation through Jesus Christ by praying something like the following:

Dear God, I know I am a sinner. I need Your forgiveness and grace. I believe that Christ paid the penalty for my sin, and He died in my place, and He rose from the dead. I invite Jesus Christ to come into my life as Savior. Thank You for saving me from my sin and making me Your child. Help me to grow and learn how to serve You. Amen.