We Don’t Just Walk in the Valley, We Live There Now

Photo by Rhodi Lopez on Unsplash

A few years ago, we went through a period of weeks where our fellowship was struck by death over and over again. During those weeks, many of our people were experiencing the sudden death of a loved one. They were walking through their ordinary lives one moment and in the next step they found themselves walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

That cascade of bad news got me thinking.

In the days leading up to their catastrophe, these sufferers didn’t know they were moments away from life-changing news. Though they couldn’t know it then, they were enjoying a blissful ignorance in those quiet days. And then the worst happened.

But since catastrophe often comes as a total surprise, this could also be true for any one of us right now. For all we know, any one of us could be days away from that phone call that makes our blood run cold. Any one of us could find that our next step takes us into that Valley.

I have always used the expression “Valley of the Shadow of Death” to describe what people go through when they are dealing with bereavement: hearing the devastating news for the first time, breaking the news to loved ones, the tears at the funeral, the disorientation of trying to adjust to the new normal. But I’m beginning to see that I was wrong; given the uncertainty of our lives and the brokenness of our world, it’s clear that we’re all living in that Valley right now. Our occasional encounters with death only bring to our attention the sure fact of mortality.
 
This is pretty morbid stuff, Paul. 

Not really.

We don’t like to think about it, but all I’ve done is point out the obvious: we and our loved ones all have an appointment with death. Long before any of us were born, God knew – God had already determined – the total number of our days (Psa 139:16). Just as surely as God ordained that I would be born on July 4, 1956, He has in His wisdom already ordained the date of my death.

If I remember that my days are surely numbered, if I know that I’m walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death even at this moment, I need to recall the rest of that psalm (Psalm 23):

Even though I walk every day in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I don’t need to be afraid.
Why? Because the Good Shepherd is with me. His protection and discipline comfort me.
He sees to it that my cup overflows as He plays host to me in the very presence of my enemies. I can be sure that His goodness and mercy will be close beside me all the days of my life (however many there may be), and ultimately I will dwell in the house of the Lord not just for a while but forever.
 
Forgetfulness about our mortality can be especially devastating to our spiritual formation.

Forgetting that we and our loved ones will, in fact, die at some preordained moment in time, we unconsciously assume that we are all entitled to such a long life that we need not consider death.

Forgetting that we and our loved ones in Christ are in the hands of the Good Shepherd, when we do think of death we’re wracked with anxiety.

In this fretful, forgetful state of mind, we can choose to handle all this the way our death-averse culture has taught us: don’t think about death, pretend it will never happen.

Or we can keep these two facts steadily before our eyes as we walk this day in the Valley of the Shadow of Death:

We have a finite number of days to live in this life.

All our lives – both this life and the next – are in the hands of the Good Shepherd, who loved us and gave Himself for us.

I want to live out the rest of my days in the Valley with a quiet confidence in the Good Shepherd.

He has proven Himself faithful all my life, and He will be my good and faithful Shepherd to the end.

Let us persevere until the Day comes when we meet Him.