"Even 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." (Psalm 23:4)
When you read this particular verse, does your mind return to a funeral, or a hospital sick bed, or to some other post-tragedy event? On television, this verse is read during a scene of mourners dressed in black, standing in the rain in a grassy graveyard before a casket (or, if it's a Western, before a mound of earth with a wooden cross grave marker).
However, the psalmist has more than physical death in mind. "My Shepherd," the All-Sufficient, Ever-Present, Ever-Guarding One, is with me no matter where I am. When I "feel" alone, abandoned, forsaken -- it's a feeling, not reality.
"Even though. . ." not if or maybe; when . . .
"I walk through. . ." I may walk into a room or up to a window, but I walk "through" a door. I rarely stop in the doorframe and don't continue (unless it's one of those "senior" moments when I have no idea why I've come to this door and can't remember what I was going to get when I got there). I go through a door to the other side. Whatever is happening now, even if it is a "shadow of death," will not last forever; I'm going "through" and will come out on the other side!
"the valley of the shadow of death. . ." the Hebrew word picture is literally a place of deep thick darkness. Have you ever taken a tour of a cave, and the guide stops everyone, tells you to hold on to the handrail, and then turns off the lights? You literally cannot see your hand in front of your face; you lose your equilibrium, and have no real sense of where you are. It's frightening not to know what's in front of you when you cannot see, if you were alone. In the cave, you hold the handrail and have confidence that the guide knows where that light switch is, and will turn it on again before you take another step.
Sometimes God takes us into a valley of thick darkness. It may be a health issue, chronic or terminal; it could be a relationship that seems so broken that it will never be put right. It could be a dead-end job or an unreasonable boss or a child who is headed for self-destruction. It could be a move to a new place, leaving everything that is familiar and comfortable. Whatever "it" is, though we can't see "our hand in front of our face" (which is the same as realizing that I have no control over this) my Shepherd does know the way through this valley. ". . .even the darkenss will not be dark to You. . .for darkness is as light to You. . ." (Psalm 139:12 NIV)
"I will fear no evil . . ." Because my Shepherd is with me in this valley, I don't have to have the overwhelming sense of dread that I am alone, out of control, and completely helpless in the face of my circumstance. ". . .for You are with me. . ." My Shepherd is with me! If that statement seems repititious, it is! What will you tell yourself when circumstances seem overwhelming, when life seems out of control, when you are stressed and exhausted? Will you enforce the feeling of "I'm abandoned and alone and unloved and it's not fair!!!" or will you counsel your heart with "my Shepherd is with me; He knows the way through this valley; He has promised to give me what I truly need." One way breeds discontent, depression and misery; the other, rest and trust and contentment. It's a choice, not a fatalistic "roll of the dice."
". . .Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. . ." sheep can lie down and eat in contentment when the shepherd (and a good sheep dog) are watchful. The sheep know that they don't have to keep "one eye out" for danger; that's why the shepherd is there. I don't have to fear my Shepherd's rod and staff of authority; My Shepherd is with me to guide me, to restore me, to give me rest; He gives me comfort in my pain; compassion in my repentence; protection in my dark places; rest in His care. He is such a Good Shepherd!!
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