Embracing the Valley

Ending the struggle against God’s “no.” by Jill Richardson

My friend Ronda* can be very convincing. “God can take this from you. God wants to take this from you. He wants me to pray for your healing.”
Who knew? Maybe this was the time God was waiting for. As Ronda prayed, that little caterpillar of hope started nudging out of its firmly encased chrysalis again.

I have known for fifteen years that I have polycystic kidney disease — the same disease that brought death too early to my mother, her mother, and most of her sisters. You can know you have it for fifteen years, but you can do nothing about it except wait and pray for a transplant when the time comes, and that it works. For me, that’s going to leave about eighteen years for well-meaning friends to try nudging that caterpillar of hope into a butterfly. Eighteen years of people who are certain God plans to heed their pleas for my healing. Eighteen years for me to start believing again that maybe this time  this prayer would be the one.

Three weeks after the conversation with Ronda, I walked into the nephrologist’s office with the little caterpillar shoving away at its confines. Definitely this time. She was so sure. Or definitely not.

With lab results and prognosis the same as they had always been, I left the office scolding myself for doing what I really knew better than to do. Not for believing God; He can heal — and does. But I have known for some time through peace from the Holy Spirit that He will not choose to. This time, I will walk the valley my mother walked. It wasn’t pretty. I am not keen to walk it myself, but it really is all right. At least it would be, if only those around me could be at peace as well.

Perhaps someone you love is walking a valley of illness, death, divorce, or loss. Should you push harder? Pull back? Pray more fervently? Muster more people for more prayer power? Pump more Bible verses? I suggest a radical approach: Embrace the peace of the valley. Here are three good reasons to do so.

Peace in the valley

Isn’t being content in the valley just giving up? Didn’t Jesus tell the story of the persistent widow badgering the judge day and night until he granted her request? Yet two things stand out to me in this widow’s story.

First, she didn’t ask for relief of personal pain or worry; she petitioned for justice. She wanted God’s inherent character to be satisfied. As far as I can tell, my physical healing isn’t a matter of right or wrong. I’ve done the widow’s job for twenty-five years, praying for my brothers’ and sisters’ salvation. God is “not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9).

Second, the widow persisted because she never got an answer. Is it still commendable to persist when we get an answer — and the answer is no? For this case, I look to Paul, who begged God to remove his thorn in the flesh (2 Corinthians 12:8, 9). Paul persisted. Paul got an answer. Paul let go. Paul was at peace. Works for me.

Dear friends, when your discontent with my status quo causes me to doubt my own contentment, I have to tread again the difficult ground I’ve already stumbled through. I prefer to take off the hiking shoes and plunge my feet in the cool waters of peaceful waiting in the valley. I’m ready to be still and know that He is God. I haven’t given up; I’ve given over.

Gratitude in the valley

Job lost everything and every person dear to him (except his wife and a few friends). Yet Job affirmed, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him” (Job 13:15). Can you look at your friend’s pain and believe that, if it happened to you and God was all you had left, He would be enough? Would you rail at the unfairness of life?

Sometimes persistent petitioning to God for healing is commendable perseverance. But sometimes it’s our own unwillingness to accept the unfairness of life. It’s our demand that good people be rewarded with good things.

Walking the valley produces something in the heart one might not expect: gratitude. Gratitude for the breathless miracle of our mere existence, for the unfathomable miracle of God’s grace. You see, part of us has died. Ideals have perished. Goals and intention, roadkill. But out of that death rises an appreciation for what matters in the light of eternity. Do you really want to comprehend eternity? You gotta die. If your friend in the valley is at peace, it means she’s seen what Job saw. If you don’t run and you don’t fight, maybe you can see it, too.

Incarnation in the valley

People going through the valley need a flashlight-holder more than they need a cheerleader. Don’t tell me from the sidelines that God is good and wants to heal me; come down where it’s sometimes scary and stand by me. Like Jesus did. Jesus did not yell encouragement from heaven when we were in greatest need. He came down. He walked beside. He felt the fear and calmed it with His presence.

A family of words in the New Testament describes this kind of incarnational encouragement: koinonia. The koinonia word family translates “associate,” “partake,” “communicate with,” “participate,” “share with,” “ready to give,” “compassionate,” “companion,” “fellow traveler.” A fellow traveler to walk alongside you. Someone to lift you up when you’re weary or guide you when you don’t know which road to take.

One of my favorite stories in Scripture is Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace. These three men were willing to die for their faith, a faith that believed that God could save them from execution if He chose.

“If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God whom we serve is able to save us. . . . But even if he doesn’t, we want to make it clear to you . . . that we will never serve your gods or worship the gold statue you have set up” (Daniel 3:17, 18, NLT).

Did you catch those four important words? Even if he doesn’t, we are at peace. It appeared God would not save, as into the furnace they went.

But here the story takes another fascinating twist: God did not swoop down and save the Hebrews from going into the fire; He went into the furnace (v. 25). God showed up not to take them out but to go through with them.

“Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). That takes courage because it’s scarier, messier, more time-consuming, and requires more emotional risk than verbal “encouragement.” It’s incarnational encouragement. It’s in the valley we realize the depth of human relationship God intended for us.

The butterfly of hope will emerge for me one day, but I am content to let it happen when it’s fully developed and ready to fly. Meanwhile, dear friends, don’t stop praying for me. But remember the words of C.S. Lewis: “Prayer is not a way of making use of God; prayer is a way of offering ourselves to God in order that He should be able to make use of us.”

Don’t let the object of your praying be my victory; that is already assured. Let your object be to allow God to make use of you — and me — during our walk in the valley.

Jill Richardson writes from Warrenville, IL.

Name has been changed.