"Death Valley Days"	May 2, 2010
Psalm 23, Hebrews 4: 14-16	5th Sunday after Easter
Colesville Presbyterian Church	Rev. Ken Eimer, Pastor (Interim)

At 2:30 in the morning, when the dark bedroom isn’t an inducement to sleep but a reminder of how alone we are, and the tick tock of the clock is our timekeeper, it’s difficult to remember that we worship a God of the night as well as of the day. This was the experience of Dr. Bill Bouknight, the pastor of Christ United Church in Memphis, Tennessee, who lost his daughter to an illness.   

 

“Tragedy can strike so quickly and capriciously,” he says. “While going about our every day lives, the world can change in the blink of an eye. As a nation, we’ve been living with that reality since 9-11. Thousands were killed by complete strangers who believed that they were furthering a righteous cause. Or consider the Asian tsunami that occurred in 2004: a quarter of a million people were killed by a freak wave from an ocean floor earthquake. If tragedy has avoided you, be thankful that you’ve been spared. Consider yourself lucky. But that it may be only a matter of time before you have to face it.[1]” 

 

During times of great tragedy and more normal times of grief, a well-known source of consolation is the 23 Psalm. It’s so well known that you may have heard it on a television program, or a friend may have said it to you during a time of great challenge. The 23rd Psalm has the same voice recognition in our culture as John 3:16 or the hymn, Amazing Grace. It encourages peace of mind and has brought comfort and consolation to many people.   

 

When this Psalm was written, it was the responsibility of kings to provide for and protect their people but they frequently failed to do so. Many kings were more concerned about their own security and entitlements, so in response to their greed and incompetence, David sings about a God who provides life and security.      

 

“The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters. He leads me in right paths for his namesake.”[2]   

 

When sheep lie down in green pastures it means that they have food. When they lie beside still waters, they have something to drink. When the shepherd leads them in right paths, it means that danger’s avoided and shelter’s provided. David remembers the sunny days of his youth when he enjoyed a carefree life. But even today, God gives him vitality and zest. God restores David’s soul. He’s kept alive.   

 

Jesus said our lives are more than the bread which we eat. What keeps us alive inside? Is it our family and friends? Is it the work we do? Is it a significant other or our relationship with God? Is it all of these things? Or are we dead people walking?   

 

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. . .” Different Bible translations express these words in various ways:

 

“Even though I walk through the sunless valley of the shadow of death. . .”                      

 

“Even though I walk through a dark valley. . .”

 

“Even though I walk through a valley of deepest darkness. . .”  

 

“Even if I were to walk in a ravine as dark as death . . .”

 

The words are slightly different but the message is the same: the valleys of our lives are hard places to travel through but God is with us in our despair and suffering and understands when we doubt. 

 

Some people are in a valley that they’ve been born into – a valley of poverty, or abuse or disability. Others have been plunged into a valley of unforeseen circumstances: the unexpected death of a loved one; a betrayal; financial disaster; sudden illness; a season of depression which comes upon us for no particular reason. Then again, some of us have created our own shadows of darkness: drug or alcohol addiction; a valley of prejudice, or one of loneliness because of how we’ve treated other people.    

 

Sometimes we look for certainty and clarity in the valley but we may not find either of these there. After all, what was David’s experience? David didn’t leave the valley with a better idea as to why bad things happen to good people. There were no momentous revelations. And he didn’t leave the valley with a different philosophy of life. What we do know is that God was present. David didn’t have to walk alone. He wasn’t abandoned. After David left the valley, his cup overflowed and God anointed him with oil. Valleys are not forever.       

 

Who is your companion in the dark when you sense that all is lost and there is no hope? When you go through a valley as dark as death, can any good come from it? 

 

Dr. Gerald May, author, psychiatrist, and professing Christian, wrote a book entitled, The Dark Night of the Soul. Dr. May writes about troubled and obscure times in human life and, in the book’s preface, he talks about his personal struggle with cancer. He doesn’t mention the 23rd Psalm’s deep ravine but you can hear him traveling through it. I don’t know whether his words describe your journey but spend a few minutes listening to him. The lessons he learned are revealing and important.[3]   

 

“When people speak of going through a dark night of the soul, they usually mean they’re experiencing bad things. The bad news is that bad things happen to everyone and it has nothing to do with whether you’re a good or a bad person; how effectively you’ve taken charge of your life; or how carefully you’ve planned for the future. But there’s good news too: good things happen to everyone as well.”   

 

“At the outset, I must confess that I’m no longer very good at telling the difference between good and bad things. Of course, there are many events in human history that are clearly evil but from the standpoint of individual experience the distinction becomes blurred. Some things start out looking great but wind up terribly, while other things seem bad in the beginning but turn out to be blessings in disguise.” 

 

“I was diagnosed with cancer in 1995, which I thought was a bad thing. But the experience brought me closer to God and to my loved ones than I’d ever been and that was wonderfully good. The chemotherapy felt awful, but it resulted in a complete cure, which I decided was good as well. But then I found out that my chemotherapy treatments may have caused other health problems. At some point I gave up trying to decide what’s ultimately good or bad. I truly don’t know.”

 

“Although not knowing may seem like a bad thing,” says, Dr. May, “I’m convinced it’s one of the great gifts of the dark night of the soul. It takes the pressure off. I no longer have to worry myself to death about what I did to cause a good or bad experience – because there’s really no way of knowing. I don’t have to look for spiritual lessons in every difficulty. There have been many spiritual lessons, to be sure, but they’ve been given to me in the course of life; I haven’t had to figure out a single one. Being immersed in the gray areas of life is distressing at first, but over time I’ve received great relief from it.”      

 

“One of the biggest lessons – another gift of the dark night – is the realization that I’m not as much in control of life as I’d like to be. This is not an easy learning, especially for take-charge people like me -- people who think they can – and more importantly should be -- in control of things. Some people are more naturally able to flow with life. They deal with things as best they can and then go on to the next moment.” 

 

“People who naturally flow with things have their times of confusion and powerlessness also, but they don’t pester themselves. Either way, each experience of the dark night has its gifts, leaving us freer than we were before, more available, more responsive, and more grateful.”

 

“We can’t fully understand what our suffering means when we’re in the dark night. But we’re left with the deep certainty that meaning is there – that there’s more to life than coping and adjustment. As mysterious as it may be, there’s something wonderful at the heart of our existence, and it’s all about love: love for God, love for one another, love for creation, and love for life itself. Our not knowing and our lack of control; our freedom and gratitude are gifts of the dark night. But they don’t arrive in our lives until the darkness passes. They come with the dawn.”

 

Dr. May, senior fellow of Contemplative Theology and Psychology at the Shalem Institute, in Maryland, died in April, 2005 at the age of 64.  

 

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” David came to see that if God walked with him in the dark valley – if God would be there for him there -- goodness and mercy would follow him all the days of his life and he would be in the house of the Lord forever.  

   

In our knowledge-based culture, we spend many years in school pursuing a wide range of academic and professional degrees. In our knowledge based culture, we rely on specialists who know more than we do about the issues or problems that we face. We expect our orthopedic surgeon to be skilled at knee replacements. We expect that police, prosecutors and judges are skilled at keeping dangerous people off the streets. When the guys from the Best Buy Geek Squad deliver our new T.V. our computer, or our home stereo system, we’re counting on the fact that everything will work when he leaves.   We rely on financial advisors to manage our investments and expect that airline pilots will take us to our business or vacation destination and back again safely. Knowledge is a good thing. We’re drawn to people who we believe have answers and skills. 

 

So in this knowledge based culture of ours, it’s frustrating to come to terms with the fact that there are questions in life that can’t be answered. Why was hard-working Sarah fired from her job? How can a marathon runner die of a heart attack at age 48, while a couch potato who has never exercised a day in his life die at 93? Why was Sergeant Smith struck down in Iraq when Corporeal Jones, who was by his side, went home to his family? After doing all the right things, why am I still unhappy? 

 

In our knowledge based culture, we look for explanations. If B occurs, A was responsible for the outcome and even the Bible, on occasion, supports this view of life. “Be not deceived God is not mocked,” writes the apostle Paul. “For whatever a person sows, he or she will reap.” In other words, don’t be surprised if a good or bad thing happens to you. You planted the seed a long time ago. We live in a world of cause and effect.     

 

But there’s a lot of randomness in life also. Things happen that defy explanation. Instead of living in a world where A causes B, when X happens, we wonder Y (why). It’s not only the pain of an event, but the reality of ‘no explanation,’ which throws us into the dark valley. And once there, the last things we need are superficial words of consolation. 

 

Sometime ago, I talked to a woman who told me that, in her early twenties, her second new born baby had suddenly died. It was hospital policy to call the chaplain at times like these and after hearing what had happened to her, he told her she shouldn’t be said because her baby was in a better place, meaning heaven. The woman was so hurt and insulted by what he said that she never went back to church again. 

 

When bad things happen for which there’s no explanation, it may not be very helpful to spend lots of time trying to figure things out. Sometimes, explanations get in the way. Whether we are on the receiving end of suffering, or trying to comfort someone else, surmising on the ‘why’ may lead us nowhere.     

 

Jesus met a lot of people who suffered and he didn’t fill their heads with explanations about what God was doing in the world and speculating as to why they were in their current situation. He acted. He healed. He embraced. He understood.  

 

The Book of Hebrews tells us that Jesus is our high priest because he understands our weaknesses and has been tested as we have. When explanations fail us – and sometimes they do – or when they fail to satisfy, what’s most important, with or without them, having someone who understands our weakness so we’re not abandoned. 

 

To be sure, God’s there – that’s the promise of Psalm 23 -- but we need the presence of others and I’m not just talking about helping hands who drop grocery items at our doors – as important as that might be. I’m talking about people who sustain us in the dark valley; people who will not let us go; who don’t get discouraged even when we do; people who communicate hope when we’re about to give up; people who are with us and in it for the long haul.    

 

Can we be that person for someone else?      

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