What if the Valley…?

Reflection by Christine Crawford

Numbing. Rushing. Hiding. Striving. These are often the coping mechanisms we run to when life feels hard. When we’re lonely, suffering, or doubting, it can be challenging to keep feeling all the feelings. To keep wrestling with all the tensions. To keep plodding through the valley and trusting God to lead us through and out. It’s tempting to numb and cope when we’re hurting. But getting through is rarely accomplished by checking out.

It’s tempting to numb and cope when we’re hurting. But getting through is rarely accomplished by checking out.

Christine Crawford

Lately, the Lord has been whispering to me, reminding me that the most easily grasped things are often the least worth clinging to. Here are some questions I’ve been pondering as I’ve sensed God’s invitation to shift how I view the valley:

• What if the valley is both where we grieve the death of a dream and where real and lasting hope is born?
• What if the tension in this time isn’t meant to be alleviated but explored?
• What if this season isn’t something we survive but a summons to abide?
• What if the valley is both our burial ground and the fertile ground where we dig deeper, grow stronger?
• What if this is where we become braver, kinder, less frantic, more honest?
• What if the valley isn’t an inconvenient detour from the journey, but a rite of passage for faithful pilgrimage?
• What if our wounds, our wondering, our wavering are precisely where Love finds us, sees us, shelters us, shapes us, and restores us?
• What if our hurts, questions, and doubts are the very thresholds where we are most tenderly met, deeply known, carefully held, gently stretched, and finally made whole?

What if our hurts, questions, and doubts are the very thresholds where we are most tenderly met, deeply known, carefully held, gently stretched, and finally made whole?

Christine Crawford

And if that’s the case:

• What if, instead of trying to clamor out of the valley as soon as possible, we slowed down, took our time, and savored our surroundings?
• What if we recognized the valley’s low, rolling fields as a place of rest and refuge?
• What if we welcomed its slower rhythms and relative quiet?
• What if, instead of soldiering through our suffering, we lingered along its shaded paths, gloried at its vibrant blooms, lifted our eyes toward the towering cliffs, and stretched our hands toward the boundless sky?
• What if we marveled at the morning mist dancing across the valley floor and the way the canyon walls capture our laments and echo them into song?
• What if we relaxed beneath Jesus’ gentle tending, cadenced our breath to his tempo, and embraced his healing as our slow becoming?
• What if grief, loneliness, and suffering aren’t our enemies? What if the valley is the invitation?

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