On the Hills and in the Valleys

He is always with us.

Last year, my mom and I had the opportunity to visit the Holy Land.

We took a group tour and spent over a week traveling around Israel, seeing sites that we’ve long read about in the Bible. A trip that I’m not sure will ever fully sink in.

One afternoon, as our bus prepared to head back to the hotel for the day, we made a pit stop to see what is widely believed to be the valley of the shadow of death. As in, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me.” Psalm 23:4 (NKJ)

It was a short walk from our bus to the overlook of the valley. The day was hot but there was a persistent breeze that made it comfortable. Our group spread out and began to take pictures.

I remember being surprised at the sight of it, my first impression being: it’s beautiful.

While I didn’t doubt the accuracy of our incredible guide, I had a hard time believing that this was the valley of the shadow of death—or, known in other translations of the verse, “the darkest valley.”

The valley was extensive, the kind of thing that makes you, as a human, feel small. I was frustrated knowing I wouldn’t be able to capture it in all its glory, but I took picture after picture to try.

Recently however, I’ve gone back to look at those pictures and I’ve realized something obvious: we were looking at the top of the hilly landscape.

We stood at a viewpoint just off the main road. We’d each taken a sip of our waters before exiting the bus. We were all adorned in hats and walking shoes and had just been fed a delicious meal. We were on vacation, learning about Jesus, waking up each day to a new adventure.

We were not in the valley of the shadow of death, we were looking at it.  We couldn’t see between the hills or imagine how far down it actually went. We could only skim the horizon and watch the shadows disappear out of sight. 

When we talk about life, we often talk about its ups and downs, its hills and valleys.

We are destined to walk through both.

Sometimes life will feel balmy and breezy, calm and quiet. We will be at eye level with all of the other peaks available to us. We will feel full of possibility, full of hope, and in good company.

But other times it will feel dark and lonely, dangerous and hopeless. We will hear people above us, voices of those standing on peaks, celebrating life’s victories, while we wonder if anyone can hear us, see us, understand the darkness we’re walking through; wonder if it’s possible to make our way up, out of the shadows and back into the light.

This article defines the valley of the shadow of death as a place of, “scarcity, danger, pain, and the unknown.” And David references it in Psalm 23 as a declaration that even in the scarcest, most dangerous, most painful places, God will be with us.

God will be with us when we’re standing on the overlook, admiring the vastness of the valley, and God will be with us when we are down in the depths of the valley, wondering if it ever ends.

And isn’t it amazing to think that the same place that darkness and fear exist, hope and wonder can exist? The same place where I can look out at a valley and take pictures in awe, is where other people might be deep within the valley, sitting down in pure hopelessness.

It reminds me that God can turn the darkest valley into something beautiful if we trust him enough to see us through. That we all have the opportunity to look back at the valleys we walked through and know that because we trusted God and kept moving, we can now sit at the table of the feast he’s prepared for us and watch our cup overflow with blessings (vs. 5).

So I pray that whether you’re on the hilltop or in the valley, you would be assured that God is with you. He is always walking at your side, and even when things look hopeless, He will see you through.