Light in the Valley

Did you ever get that feeling right before something "big" happens? The day before a snowstorm is predicted, as you watch the skies slowly darken with each passing hour; the days leading up to Christmas, as the festive music plays nonstop on the radio and kids seem to jump up and down more than usual? There is "something in the air," as the saying goes -- something intangible, inexplicable, something almost tingly and anticipatory.

There's no snowstorm coming, and Christmas has already come and gone, but that "feeling" is in the air again. It's subtle; it ebbs and flows throughout the day -- but it's there.

On Sunday, Don is going to preach.

This is a huge step for him, and for us. Don is a gifted pastor, with preaching as one of his passions. While I would pass out from pulpit-exposure, he gets a charge out of it. He loves diving into the text, uncovering new words or insights, threading together a message, hearing what God has to say. He's passionate about his role, standing up in front of all those people (all of those eyes looking back!), delivering God's word. He's natural, he's comfortable in that skin. He loves doing what he was called to do.

This journey has been rocky, to say the least. His final sermon was delivered before Christmas 2006 -- over a year ago. That's a long, long time to be away. So when he agreed to preach again, I wasn't sure how it would play out. Would he struggle? Would he break down? Would painful memories swell up and overwhelm him? Yes, I'll admit it -- I was a bit worried.

For the last several weeks he has been going to work each day, hanging flat-screen TVs, installing sound systems, running wires, calibrating components. And each day he has been thinking, reflecting, working the text over and over in his mind: Psalm 23:4 -- "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."

I can say with conviction that I, for one, now look at this very differently. Don shared some of his research with me, that the "valley" spoken about by the Psalmist was a deep, narrow, vast gorge that was darkened and lifeless from the lack of sun, full of treacherous rocks and dangerous paths -- a place of certain death for an aimless sheep. How often did it feel like I was wandering in that very gorge? Calling out for God's deliverance, needing aid, needing light, needing direction? But then realizing that there is nothing to fear ... that's powerful.

The Psalms are a favorite of mine, in part speaking to a poetic "writer's" side of me. The language is unsurpassed -- "the shadow of death" ... how I have felt that cold shadow slowly crowd out God's Light. But God is right there in that gorge -- I need to trust in that. And now here we are, over a year later, still journeying over an unknown and unfamiliar path. An image came to my mind, of wandering in that gorge, and now feeling that the shadow is behind me. I don't feel as if I have emerged completely, but I am not alone. I feel that I can see that Light beginning to break through the walls of the valley. A corner has been turned.

I'm glad Don is preaching on Sunday. I'm happy to see that sparkle in his eye, that charge as he talks about his ideas with me. He's excited again. God is working wonders. It's one more step forward on the journey, one more step out of the gorge, one more step toward the pasture, holding God's hand all along the way.