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In the Valley of the Shadow of Death
The Twenty-Third Psalm, one of the most beloved passages in scripture, poetically describes the many ways God protects and provides for us. It reassures us that we can expect this bounty all the days of our lives. Right in the middle, however, the psalm pivots from green pastures and still waters to “the valley of the shadow of death.” The image itself is compelling, describing not death itself but possibly the imminence of death or the long journey to death. The valley of the shadow of death could be almost anything along the way: diagnosis, hospice, chemo, rehab, disability, dementia, pain, surgery. During this journey we are not promised a reprieve, not offered anointing oil or lavish tables, but God’s comforting presence. It can be hard to know what this looks like, which is possibly the reason even those with good hearts sometimes shy away from the sick and dying.
A friend once told me about his experience in a big city emergency room where he had taken his wife, who was experiencing chest and stomach pains. It was late in the day on a Friday. The ER was crowded and chaotic. Every chair was occupied; a toddler was having a tantrum; a woman repeatedly cut the line yelling that she needed the social worker to sign some papers. Over several hours, his wife was examined, had an EKG, had blood drawn, and then an ultrasound. Eventually, a physician’s assistant came out and huddled with them, her hands on their shoulders. “I am so, so sorry,” she began, “that I do not have a room, do not even have a corridor where we can go, so I have to tell you this here.” She went on to say that the ultrasound had revealed tumors throughout his wife’s abdomen. They needed to do a CT scan, and then she would be admitted to the hospital. The PA knew they had many questions, so she would be back after the scan to answer as many as she could. As devastating as the news was, my friend said, he could never uncouple it from the way the PA delivered it, with her hands on their shoulders.
You are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
Livy More
Pathways Editor
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