The valley.
It’s the place that none of us want to be, and the place we all inevitably go.
It’s the place that makes us remember how small we are, and maybe, hopefully, just how big our God is.
Let’s just be real for a minute, why don’t we? Life is really, really hard sometimes. Sometimes you’ll get put in a situation that makes you feel like someone took the last Oreo (or, in my case, the last Albanian sugar cookie, handful of blackberry granola, or bowl of corn flakes… we are living a modest life here, okay?) and, as if that isn’t already bad enough, waved it in your face before they ate it.
I’m gonna shoot straight with y’all-my first two weeks living in Durres with just my team were pretty stinkin’ hard. That metaphorical Oreo was getting taken from me a whole lot. In those two weeks, I was not myself. I wasn’t loud, I wasn’t outgoing, I didn’t want to be around people, I didn’t want to love people. It was really hard. The race was really hard. Nothing was as I had expected. I didn’t know why, and I didn’t know what to do about it.
When I left those two weeks to go to our first debrief, I wasn’t in a super good place. Through a conversation with my squad mentor, Kaylaynn, and a lot of time with God, I came to the realization that I’m sitting in the valley.
I’m in the valley, but I was on a mountaintop. When I was standing on that mountaintop, I looked across to another mountaintop and said “I want to get there.” If it was up to me, I would have taken a bus down the mountain that I was on, a trolley up the next, and I would be standing on that mountaintop by now.
But I’m not in charge of my route-God is; His travel plans don’t always look like mine. God has led me down the slope of a mountain and now I sit in the valley at the base of this mountain I so badly want to be at the top of.
I look up, and I see how far I have to go and sometimes it’s hard to understand how I will ever be able to make it up. I know that as I trek up this mountain, it’s going to be easy to get so lost in the trees that I can’t see the forest. I won’t know where the path is. It will be a treacherous, exhausting climb.
I turn around and I see the valley that I’m sitting in. It is dark and it is dead; it is gloomy and it is hard. But at the end of the valley, oh, at the end of that valley lies the door of hope.
Hosea 2:15 says this: “There I will give her back her vineyards, and will make the Valley of Achor a door of hope.” (can we talk about how beautiful this is?? Major props to Hosea)
The valley of Achor was a place where a lot of stuff went down back in the book of Joshua, and because of everything that happened, it gained it’s name “Achor,” or “trouble.” This narrow gorge, with it’s dark overhanging cliffs, steep walls, and narrow paths is, for lack of better words, a death trap. But, as Alexander Maclaren states, “however long, however barren, however rugged, however black, however trackless, we may see if we will, a bright form descending the rocky way with radiant eyes and calm lips, God’s messenger, Hope; and the rough rocks are like the doorway through which she comes near to us in our weary struggle.”
Once I understood that out of the valley comes hope and clarity, I started to see my situation from a whole new perspective. Now, I can look to the valley and up to the mountain, and rather than seeing the impossibility of it all, I see the door; I see the mountaintop. Yes, instead of looking at the hopeless situation in front of me, I can look into the eyes of Hope Himself with full assurance that He will lead me to the door and up the mountaintop because my Jesus is the path, He’s always been the path, and He’s always going to be the path.
For the sake of continuing this terrible metaphor, sometimes, we need that last Oreo to be taken in order for us to remember that we are trying to avoid gaining the World-Race-15 (I cannot confirm nor deny whether or not this is a thing; I am simply speculating). Sometimes, we need to go through the valley of trouble to be reminded of how weak we are and how mighty God is. Sometimes, we need to be reminded that our love and joy come from Him, and without Him, we are nothing and we will never be able to reach the growth that we so relentlessly strive for.
There is a Swedish missionary working with the same church that my team is. Her name is Lisa, and she preached this past week. In her sermon, she said this: “If we as Christians think we are someone by the things we are doing, we are no one. We are only someone when we realize we are no one without the One.” I feel like it’s so easy to forget that everything good that “I am” is just Him in me, and it is so sweet to rest in the fact that even when it’s hard, He is still good, and He is still good in me. So, when the inevitable bad days come, I have been reminded that I can call upon my Savior for an overflowing of His love and grace and joy, knowing that He will freely give it.
So, I praise Him in the valley, resting in the assurance that the mountaintop is coming.
Field update:
My team and I are living and working at a church in Durres, Albania. We will be here for the remainder of our time in Albania! Our ministry here consists of leading bible studies and devotionals, helping out with the kids at the preschool, spending time pouring into the staff, leaders, and members, and doing any odd jobs that the church may have for us. It’s such a sweet opportunity to be able to be a part of this community and be able to carry some of their load so they can breathe!!
I am so thankful for this ministry, my team, the ways God is working, and all of your prayers and support!!
Much love!!!
