The Valley

There are certain perceptions and opinions of believers today, I believe, formed by both Christians and agnostics alike. One of these beliefs is that Christians are expected to perpetually sustain a never-ending spiritual high. Every day, we wake up with brightly polished pianos in our smiling mouths, songs in our hearts, melodic words on our tongues – never ending praise to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Our day goes fantastic, we praise Jesus, we save a few people from eternal damnation, help an old lady cross the street, and come home on this unexplainable Jesus buzz. We never get depressed, never sad, we don’t get angry when the unexplainable happens. We don’t lust for our neighbor’s wife, don’t stare at his new car. Our children are models of cherubic innocence and our bank account runneth over with the financial benefits of following Christ.

Wrong. It’s all wrong.

The way of Jesus is not for the weak or the faint of heart. The followers have Christ have been fed to lions for sport, burned at stakes, jailed for possessing Bibles, tortured for starting churches, had senseless attacks of all sorts carried out against them. Judas Iscariot, the man who would eventually betray Jesus, is generally thought of as the man responsible for providing the Jewish public with his image of the coming Messiah: the military, political Jesus. And even though Jesus was a man of peace, it proves what was going through the heads of the Jews at this point in time. They were looking for a general to rally under, someone to give them a flag to wave high. Why? Because they were sick and tired of being stepped on. Because the world hated them. Everyone’s had the Chinese minister visit their church and talk about his fingernails being yanked out with pliers because people sang songs of worship in the basement of his house. If anything, becoming a Christian will only invite more pain and suffering than the people around you.

And because of that, every Christian spends his or her share of time in the valley. A valley where it seems like no one is there, every single friend and confidant has left, betrayed, or ignored. Job felt that way, and quite rightly, after all his children were slain, he lost his financial fortune and future when his livestock died, and he was afflicted with ghastly sores. His friends came to him and said, “curse God, because he’s the one who did this to you. Curse God, and maybe he’ll kill you and you can just be done with it all.” Curse God. If you’re lucky, he’ll kill you. Instead, Job rebuked them and returned with, “I came from dust. When I was born, I was nothing; I was dust. This is how I will die. God gives and God takes away. Bless his name.” Bless his name. Horatio Spafford was a very wealthy businessman who lived about a century ago. He had financial fortune, a wonderful wife, four beautiful daughters, a devoted son. Spafford lived in Chicago. Tragedy struck its first blow when his son died in a freak accident. While the family was still mourning, a cow knocked over a chair that knocked over a kerosene lamp, and Chicago ate itself alive. Spafford’s warehouses, and with it, all that he had, were consumed. Still in shock, Horatio Spafford received a telegram from a friend in England, inviting his family to attend D.L. Moody speak. Horatio sent his family before him while he stayed behind an extra few days to finish up business matters. The ocean liner that Horatio Spafford’s family was on got about halfway across the ocean when it was struck by a merchant vessel. The liner went down in just over twelve minutes. Hundreds died…including Horatio Spafford’s four daughters. He received a telegram from his wife, short and sweet, informing him that she was the only one he had left. In indescribable grief, he took the next liner to England to reunite with his wife. As they passed the site where his daughters lay, he took out a pen, and began writing the hymn “It Is Well With My Soul.” When peace like a river attendeth my way; when sorrows like sea billows roll…whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say, “It is well; it is well with my soul.”

So why do hard times fall upon us? Is it God? Is there really a God, and if there is, is he loving? Because surely a loving God would not allow these things to happen. The answer is that God has given us free control of our lives. We do with that what we will. He couldn’t really just let some of us do what we wanted but restrain, say serial killers and rapists from the gift of free will, because then it wouldn’t be free will, would it. He would be denying us what we chose many thousands of years ago. We thought that we could run the world better than God, so he has let us try ever since. I believe that God weeps for every sin, every act of injustice that occurs in this world. It is so counter to who he is, what he stands for, that this multitude of rebellious acts must break his heart. And yet, the only time it has ever been mentioned that something done by us mortals was enough to break God so badly as to make him turn away was his son’s crucifixion. It says in the Scriptures, “and God turned his face away.” This act was so terrible, so unjust, so heinous, that even God could not watch. We did that. We broke God in a way that some would not think possible. Because he gave us free will. We bring all this upon ourselves. Many people tell me, “well, I don’t see why this is happening to me. I’ve done nothing wrong!” Every day, we sin enough to be condemned to hell a dozen times over. We should thank God more often for sparing us our deserved damnation. God has every right to let us suffer. We have betrayed him. God gives and God takes away. That is all we deserve: to have all that we know taken away.

And yet, the valley is not permanent. God will and does bring us through our trials and tribulations. In the Bible, it concentrates quite heavily in the Old Testament on the sins of Israel. Time and time again, the Israelites sinned against God, betrayed him, spat in his face. The Israelites are God’s chosen people, his ones set aside, and they crucified his one and only son. And yet God always remained faithful. He let them suffer, but never permanently. He loves us too much. These times of trial and hurt that we go through, they are only temporary. If you’re hurting today, don’t give up. Return to God, return to your knees, return to his favor.

You have led me through the sadness; I have carried this weight on a back bruised and nearly broken. I’m crying out to you. I will sing of your mercy that leads me through valleys of sorrow to rivers of joy. When death like a gypsy comes to steal what I love, I will still look to the heavens; I will still seek your face. But I fear you’re not listening, because there are no words, just the stillness and the hunger for a faith that assures. I will sing of your mercy that leads me through valleys of sorrow to rivers of joy. While we wait for our rescue, with our eyes tightly shut, face to the ground, holding our hands to cover the fatal cut. And though the pain is an ocean, tossing us around, around, around, you have calmed greater waters and higher mountains have come down. I will sing of your mercy that leads me through valleys of sorrow to rivers of joy. Hallelujah. – “The Valley Song” Jars of Clay

Godspeed.

~ by d3ovolent3 on May 25, 2009.