It's early friday morning. Right now I'm sitting in a little sliver of paradise. Five dear friends and I came down here--our wonderful friend Joy (such an appropriate name for her, too, since she personifies joy) brought us down to stay for the weekend at their house in the Abacos. It is an exquisite little island somewhere in the Bahamas. I couldn't tell you precisely where, and isn't it great we don't have to know everything! Here's what I do know: it's just remarkable to consider the stunning beauty all over this big green planet.
What a Creator we have to have made such a profusion of wonder and variety and... gee, I just can't even find words for it. It almost assaults your senses when you see the extraordinary splendor and creativity displayed by His handiwork. As we've walked around here in the Abacos, we've just run out of adjectives--so much of so much all around us! Thank You, Father. Thank You for loving us, Your creatures so much that You gave us such a home, such a planet. And if this is our little temporary, rented dwelling--this planet that often groans with the sorrows of sin--well, just imagine what our final, finished, perfect heavenly home will be like! All I can say is thank You, Father.
And thank You for the gift of being here in the Abacos--thank You Good Shepherd for leading us "beside this still water" and allowing us to "lie down in green pastures." (Ps.23:2) What a path of "goodness and mercy" You have led us along--we six little sheep here in the Abacos! Our cup does overflow with Your goodness and Your grace, as we all know we have done nothing to deserve such a green, rich pasture... just another example of grace.
But as I sit here in the quiet predawn darkness, I remember where we were exactly five months ago today. It was also on a friday. Only it was not such a place of peace and beauty and rest and wonder. It was a hospital, in intensive care, with our daughter clinging to life. She unconscious, we uncertain. Outside those walls there were no undulating, crystal blue waters and white sandy beaches and waving palm trees... no, only busy doctors and nurses and ambulances and helicopters and desperate families and worried friends.
Maybe not a place of beauty... but still a place of life. For the Good Shepherd was just as surely within those hospital walls as He is in this island paradise. Everywhere I turned, I could hear His voice whispering, "I'm here. I'm in control. You are loved. Janie is loved. She is mine. Do not fear. Follow me."
Yes, on that terrible friday, we followed the Good Shepherd through the "valley of the shadow of death," and we knew that we knew that we knew that "I will fear no evil for You are with me, Your rod and Your staff they comfort me." (Ps.23:4) Even in the hardest and darkest of moments, our Good Shepherd was there, so clearly there, fending off those predators of despair and desperation and terror. His rod and staff defeating those enemies of Janie's brain swelling and fever and lung problems.
As His people prayed--O so many dear wonderful people praying at all hours--He answered and answered and led and led and led us on through the valley of the shadow of death... and slowly back into green pastures and still waters.
But you know, those fearsome valleys in our lives are places of such richness and depth. Hard, yes. O yes. But I wouldn't trade them for anything, for the Good Shepherd teaches us so much more of His love and His faithfulness in those dark valleys. We learn that nothing can separate us from His love in the valleys. We learn that He undertakes for us when we are utterly helpless in the valleys. We learn the extraordinary blessing of being part of a big flock of sheep in the valley--thank You, Lord, for the body of Christ. We learn the power of prayer in the valley. We learn the fellowship of darkness in the valley. And we learn the power of gratitude even in the hardest of places in the valley.
And so, on this friday, five months later, I sit in a far different place... but with the same Good Shepherd. I write these words, because I'm sure there are people reading this who may be in the midst of a dark, deep valley right now. And I know it is unimaginably hard. I've been there. So I just want to remind you that the Good Shepherd is right there with you. He is leading you, even when you can't see Him or feel Him. He's there. And He's right ahead of you, fending off predators you cannot see or imagine and leading you closer, ever closer, to those green pastures and still waters. Just keep following and trusting with your faith, not your feelings. He will not fail you now.
For He already knows the path and the best way to get you through. He's been there already. For on another friday, over two thousand years ago, the Good Shepherd trudged up to a cross and lay down His life upon it... for you. The Good Shepherd suffered that death for you, so that you need only walk through the shadow of death. And as Donald Grey Barnhouse said, "Shadows can't hurt you." Jesus took the reality of death, we suffer only it's shadow.... on our way through the valley to the glory of our eternal home.
Thank You, Good Shepherd, for leading us and loving us all the way home. Might we live this day listening for Your voice and following in obedience wherever You lead--whether green pastures and still waters or dark valleys... knowing, if we're following You, we're right where we need to be.
To God be the glory.
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