"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me"
Psalm 23:4
In a poem published in 1914, Robert Frost gave a tired farm wife a line she'd heard from her husband. "He says the best way out is always through."
It's a hard line to hear when you're grieving. You'd give almost anything for a way around.
Around the first Christmas.
Around his birthday.
Around the closet where his shirts still hang.
But David never asked for a way around.
David was a shepherd before he was a king. He knew the valleys of Judea, those steep, shadowed ravines where a lamb could get lost and wild animals waited in the dark.
Read Psalm 23 slowly and notice what David doesn't say. He doesn't say, "You led me around the valley." He doesn't say, "You fixed the valley." He says, "I walk through."
Then he tells you why he can: "for you are with me."
There's something else. In the first three verses David talks about God. "He makes me lie down... He leads me... He restores my soul." But the moment he steps into the valley, he stops talking about God and starts talking to Him. "You are with me."
The darkest place in the psalm became the closest place.
That's how God answered the deepest grief of all. He didn't fix us from a distance. He came. Matthew tells us Jesus would be called "Immanuel" (which means, God with us) Matthew 1:23.
Jesus walked the valley Himself. In John 11 He stood at a friend's grave and wept. Then He went all the way through death so it would never be a dead end for those who trust Him.
He isn't waiting for you at the far end of the valley.
He's in it.
With you.
Now.
If you aren't sure you know Him that way, the door is open. I wrote about what a personal relationship with Jesus really means.
Try today
When the valley feels darkest today, borrow David's words. Say them in the car, at the kitchen sink, or lying awake: "You are with me." That's all. Not a fix. Just a reminder of who is walking beside you.
If the people around you keep trying to fix your grief, I wrote more about that in Grief is not a problem to be solved: why you can't just get over losing your husband.
Sometimes mid scenes of deepest gloom,
sometimes where Eden's flowers bloom,
by waters calm, o'er troubled sea,
still 'tis God's hand that leadeth me.
Joseph H. Gilmore, 1862
Frost was right. The way out is through. But David knew something more. You don't walk through alone.
Blessings, Pastor Howard
Know a widow who needs this today?
Sometimes the kindest thing is a quiet "I thought of you."
Which valley are you walking through this week?
It might be a date on the calendar, a room in the house, or a quiet evening. Tell me in the comments below. I read every comment, and your words might help another widow feel less alone.