"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me."
I have recited this fourth verse of Psalm 23 so many times over the years, and yet I have not to my memory, until tonight, discovered a very important truth revealed its first words, "even though." Even though? You mean it's a given that I'll walk through the dark valley? Or is this an "if" and not a "when"? I'm completely thrown by this word, for some reason. Let's explore what it means.
In the Hebrew language, the word "even" (gam) can also mean "surely" or "yet." There is no trace of "if." It's not a conditional thing, this valley of shadows. It comes in all of our lives. Sometimes it leads to physical death. Other times it is a period of trial in the midst of life. In the author David's life, he walked through this valley often. Saul was out to kill him, as were the Philistines, and several other minor nations that David had managed to offend. David had to live for decades as a fugitive, diving behind boulders, scrambling down cliffs, and swinging into caves. Valleys were a regular part of his young life. If you search for pictures of the Judean wilderness, you'll see just how vital valleys were to David's very existence.
Even though that was David's life and you and I have our own circumstances, I believe the truth that opens Psalm 23:4 remains. We all will go through the valley of the shadow of death during our lives -- some of us will go through this valley many times. Sometimes we'll emerge ont he other side quickly. Other times we'll spend ages staring longingly at the mountaintops and hoping that we'll make it up there someday. The valley of shadows is not pleasant. It's cold, dark and scary. Uncertainty surrounds us like the air we breathe and it is very easy to lose heart and break down. But "even though" is not only a certainty, it's also a clause -- a statement to be continued, a comparison to be made.
"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..."
"... I will fear no evil." Why not? Evil is all around you, David. Why not cry? Why not shake? Why not break down and lose heart?
"for You are with me." Wait a minute... God is in the darkness? He's in the valley? I thought God was the mountaintops. What's He doing in the valley? My valley?
This truth I have discovered over the past few years of my life, and never more so than the past eight months: God is not just god in the light but also in the darkness. And He is present even when you think He has gone away. Even when you think He has no reason to care. He is still god in the darkness. And He is with you. And He is with me. As you journey through the valley.
Right now I'm in another valley, personally. This time it involves my deteriorating health. I'll be honest with you: I see shadows everywhere. I'm concerned and even a bit frightened. This valley is getting deeper. But I'm not in this valley alone.
Charles Swindoll observed the following: "Notice that the psalmist says because "Thou art with me" he is kept from being afraid. Mark it down, my friend. There is no experience, no valley (no matter how severe or uncertain) that we must journey alone." ("Living Beyond the Daily Grind," p. 76)
I am not alone. Not now. Not ever. And neither are you.
There is a lot that can be said about the darkness — about the valley — and I have observed a lot in recent times. But I'll save my thoughts for a later date.
I just want to leave youw ith this verse which I latch onto like a loved one: "God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you." (Heb. 13:5)
Be God's! Even in the darkness.
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