I might’ve discovered

the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Psalm 23
1 The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
2 He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters.
3 He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
for His name’s sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life;
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.

If there’s ever a time befitting the infamous valley which Psalm 23 popularized, the year we’re slogging through must be it.

Consider the year’s events: Fear dominates the news. Suicide increased in parts of the world. The same can be said about America. For whatever grim reasons, some of us might have spent unwanted nights at the hospital. Others buried their loved ones. 

Thankfully, the rest of the Psalm harbors a number of timely tips. For instance? Notice walk in verse 4. David didn’t say he darted through his valley of the shadow of death. He walked through the thing, which, of course, took longer than if he were to hightail it.

Why didn’t David select a faster word?

I’m convinced David wrote walk instead of bolt because trekking through a shadowy valley takes longer than we’d like. Always.

This agonizing process might explain why the Psalm devotes its top two verses to reveal the Lord’s provision for times like ours. When the fight against fear and uncertainty and untold other stressors stretches month after month with no definite end, indulging moments with the Shepherd—enjoying those lush green pastures and drinking in the still waters—will revitalize our sagging stamina.

But let’s be real. Tarrying with the Lord may rejuvenate our spirits, but our souls wink out when distress drags on. That’s just human nature.

Unsure if your soul also struggles? The following inner chatters exemplify what you might hear if this difficult season has wearied your soul.

Mind: “How long will this pandemic rage on?”

Emotion: “I’m so sick of this year!”

Will: “Don’t expect me to mask up!”

Hence God’s promise to restore our raggedy souls in verse 3.

But even though it’s God’s responsibility to perform the restoration, we can do things that hinder His work, as a recent sermon illustrates.

A particular pastor preached that his congregation is to resist depression because depression is one of Satan’s strategies. While I esteem this man of God and agree with his heart—depression has no home in us—resisting its symptoms is like disregarding suspicious rattles from our car. God’s grace may shield us the first time we ignore such noises, but insisting to operate the vehicle without a mechanic’s expert advice is to invite disaster.

Likewise, depressive symptoms pinpoint parts of our soul that’s hemorrhaging hope. The Lord can restore these areas through inner healing prayers, Christian counseling, or some other means, but step one is to authorize Him to begin the process.

How?

By acknowledging our soul’s honest state. Only then will we unleash healing possibilities.

The last verse of Psalm 23 imparts more stunning revelations. If “goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,” then they’re also available on days when it feels like we’re crawling through the valley.

Let’s peruse the phrase “goodness and mercy” again. According to verse 6, these guys pursue us every day. No wonder we can traverse our valley in peace! Why run from something benevolent?

Experiencing God’s manifested goodness is like receiving His personal guarantee: we’ll outlast the valley of the shadow of death.

I strive to exit this stupid valley as quickly as you do. But perhaps we should intermittently pause to bask in God’s goodness, and hear His reminder that just as David prevailed over his valley, we will too.

Even if it wraps up beyond 2020.