Through the Valley

The Shepherd's Presence in the Valley

So much of life is better when you are not doing it alone. Research shows that we work out harder, experience greater joy, and even perceive pain differently when we are with other people. When you sit next to a loved one during pain, the actual pain doesn't change—but your perception of it does. This is what Psalm 23 is fundamentally about: we don't have to walk through life's darkest valleys alone.

The Reality of Suffering

Suffering is sadly part of life. If you haven't suffered yet, you most likely will at some point. As Paul David Tripp writes in Suffering: Gospel Hope When Life Doesn't Make Sense, suffering is "never abstract, theoretical, or impersonal. Suffering is real, tangible, personal, and specific."

The Bible never mocks the sufferer or turns a deaf ear to their cries. Instead, it presents a God who understands, who cares, and who invites us to come to Him for help.

Understanding Psalm 23:4

Let's read Psalm 23 together:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, 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. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil. My cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

We often read this Psalm at funerals, but that's not David's context. He likely wrote this as a young man facing real challenges. Jewish rabbis believe he wrote it while running from King Saul for his life.

The Uncomfortable Truth About Following God

Here's what challenges us: If God is leading me, shouldn't I avoid the valley? Many of us like the idea that good people have good lives and bad people have bad lives. But Psalm 23 says something different.

David describes someone "on the path of righteousness" who then walks "through the valley of the shadow of death." The valley is not a consequence for sin—it's something that happens to righteous people doing life the right way.

What Is "The Valley of the Shadow of Death"?

It's not a bad hair day or a bad week. It's the deepest darkness known to human experience—darkness so dense it is identified with death itself. As Strong's Exhaustive Concordance describes it, it denotes conditions "in which hope, order, and life are eclipsed."

David's Journey

David was a shepherd who became Israel's greatest warrior. He married the king's daughter. Life was good. But then King Saul became jealous and tried to kill him. What might seem like a few months of conflict actually lasted for years. David went from the palace to running for his life every single day, asking God: Why? How? What are you doing?

As a literal shepherd, David knew that sheep must sometimes pass through dark valleys to reach new green pastures. His sheep probably looked back at him confused: We were just in a great place with food and water. Why are you taking us through this darkness?

In the same way, David is now the sheep, asking God the same question.

The Grammar Shift: Speaking to God

Notice something profound in verse 4: The grammar changes from third person to second person.

In the green pastures (verses 1-3), David talks about God: "He leads," "He restores." But in the valley (verse 4), David talks to God: "You are with me. Your rod and your staff comfort me."

When David is comfortable, God feels distant. But in the valley, God becomes intensely personal. And God can use the valleys in our lives to accomplish this same intimacy.

Biblical Faith Doesn't Minimize—It Magnifies

Biblical faith does not say the valley doesn't exist or that it's no big deal. Biblical faith magnifies the Shepherd. The valley is real, painful, and hard. It's okay to be frustrated. It's okay to say, "God, I don't understand." But in that valley, that's when God wants to be most magnified in our lives.

A Personal Testimony

Nine years ago, my wife and I lost our daughter Lane. She was born sick, and we spent four and a half months in the NICU. We never left the hospital. For those four and a half months, I prayed the same prayer over and over: God, heal her and don't let her die. Then she died.

When we walked through that season—not just the months in the hospital, but the decade since—there were moments I shook my fist at God and said, "GOD, WHY? I DON'T UNDERSTAND."

I don't believe for a second that God caused her death. But I do believe He could have stopped it. He didn't cause it, but He allowed it, because God is sovereign and in control. Suffering exists because of sin in this world, and when we experience it, it cuts us to our soul.

Here's what happens in those valleys: either the valley drives us away from God, or it draws us to God.

A decade removed, I still don't understand. I still don't comprehend. I still have questions. But at some point, I had to choose: either reject God or, despite the pain, embrace and lean in.

Pain Doesn't Define Us

Here's the truth: although our suffering is a defining moment in our life, it is not the defining moment.

Losing our daughter is a defining moment. Our lives are forever changed. And yet, my life is not defined by that pain. My life is defined by the Shepherd. My life is defined by the cross. My life is defined by the fact that Jesus died on the cross for my sins, rose again, conquered death. That is what defines me.

Why Pain Connects Us

We don't resonate with people's successes. We don't relate to professional athletes or the ultra-wealthy. But we resonate with people's pain. All pain is specific and unique, yet there's something about deep sorrow that we can empathize with.

God is telling us: "There's a way to walk through suffering—as crummy and terrible as it is—in a way that I can be glorified and bring you out the other side."

Scott McKee's Example

I have a good friend, Scott McKee, a pastor in Detroit who is also a comedian. About a decade ago he beat cancer, but two years ago it returned. He continued to serve as senior pastor, preaching every week while physically deteriorating.

Last June, he sent a video to his congregation. He said:

I know many people are believing God for a miraculous healing, and I'm still very open to that. But I don't need that to know that God is good and that God is good to me. God is exceedingly good. Whatever happens to me, I'm going to be okay. Whatever happens, I want God to be glorified.

I believe God can be glorified through miraculous healing. But I also believe God can be glorified through the testimony of one of His children who lives faithfully through suffering and death. Whichever plan God chooses, God will be glorified. Whichever plan God chooses, I will be okay.

About a week before Easter, Scott passed away. I have rarely seen someone who kept that smile, that personality, that joy while walking through a terrible valley.

If you are in a valley too, know this: that is the moment God wants to be closest to you.

The Rod and the Staff

The imagery of the rod and staff matters. The rod was used for defense—a short heavy club to protect sheep from predators. The staff, with its crook, becomes an extension of the shepherd's arm, allowing him to reach places he couldn't otherwise go, to guide sheep left and right, to pull them back where they belong.

But here's what's crucial: the shepherd's staff only works if you're in close enough proximity to the shepherd. David is saying that God wants to guide us and help us, but as the sheep, we must understand that proximity to the Shepherd matters.

When you're in the middle of a valley, it sounds trite to say, "Just be closer to the shepherd." But what does that mean practically?

Meditation as Spiritual Combat

Paul David Tripp writes:

Suffering tends to kidnap our thoughts. The more you meditate on a problem, the bigger, scarier, and more unsolvable it appears. What you think about most is vital. When you meditate on who God has revealed Himself to be in Scripture, filling your mind with God's Word, you combat the thing that wants to take over your mind and create more fear.

When we think of meditation, we often think of Eastern practices—emptying the mind, seeking detachment. Biblical meditation is the opposite. It's not emptying yourself; it's filling yourself with God. It seeks peace through attachment to God, not detachment from Him.

When you're in the valley, your natural thoughts focus on the valley—the dangers, the fears. But when you meditate on God's word, His character, His presence, His promises, you focus on Him instead.

The Central Message of Scripture

The very heart of Psalm 23 is this phrase: "You are with me." This message appears throughout all of Scripture:

• Exodus 3:12: "I will be with you"
• Joshua 1:9: "The Lord your God is with you wherever you go"
• Isaiah 41:10: "Fear not, for I am with you"
• Isaiah 43:2: "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you"
• Matthew 1:23: Emmanuel—"God with us"
• Matthew 28:20: Jesus says, "I am with you always"
• Hebrews 13:5: "I will never leave you nor forsake you"

At the beginning of Scripture, Adam and Eve walk in God's presence. Then sin enters and breaks that relationship. A holy God cannot have fellowship with sinful people. So all of Scripture is God saying, "I want to be with you. I want to be close to you."

The Gospel is God stepping out of heaven into human flesh to be close to us, to solve the problem that creates distance. He dies on the cross for our sins.

At the end of Scripture, in Revelation 21:3, this bookend from Genesis to Revelation says:

Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be His people, and God Himself will be with them as their God.

Jesus is the Good Shepherd. And the Shepherd lays down His life for His sheep.