The Valley of Baca

The last nine months have been painful. Like being blindsided by a flying object that knocks you out, then at odd times hits you again and again, unexpectedly. Larry and I were lying bleeding by the side of the road, and are now patched up and limping through our long valley with prayer, counseling, some fasting.

The writer of Psalm 84 writes, “Blessed are those whose strength is in You, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valley of Baca (weeping) they make it a place of springs, the autumn rains also cover it with pools. They go from strength to strength…”

I had expected that in our latter years, after decades of sowing good seed there would be seasons of harvest. We would live on social security, work part time, and teach discipleship classes with peace, equanimity. But in asking the Lord to be used more it seems we have punctured a ceiling of protection and been hammered with alien space missiles. Never mind the type of missiles! Our ordered world has been shaken, and we are bowed with humiliation, clinging to Jesus’ feet.

The pain is sometimes sharp, but mostly a deep dull throbbing with questions, a lack of wholeness that only God can meet and fill. And in this time I relate sincerely to the pain of others. To a friend on meds who sometimes gasps to breathe. To another receiving radiation for cancer who’s children are going through marriage trauma. To parents whose children don’t know God yet and rarely call them.

And then there are distant needs--far geographically, but close to God’s heart. The large prison camps in Iraq, the hunger and sickness in Yemen, the long term strife in South Sudan, the Ebola plague with hundreds dying in middle Africa. How does the Lord bear it all? He who loves purely, limitlessly—how can He bear the suffering of mankind? Deep love suffers much. And so I cling to His feet, enter into His suffering.

And pray,

And relinquish

And take His life strength…

“For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that His life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you…For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” II Cor. 4:11-12, 17-18