The Valley

Sermon by Rev. Kelli Whitman

Text - Psalm 23; Mark 5:21-43

Psalm 23—New King James Version

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not ]want. 2 He makes me to lie down in ]green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. 3 He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake.

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; My cup runs over. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me All the days of my life; And I will dwell in the house of the Lord,

Forever.

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“How are you doing?” It’s a question we ask or is asked of us probably several times every day. It’s how most telephone calls begin whether the person calling is a friend or a salesperson. It’s how we greet a friend when we run into them at the grocery store unexpectedly.

“How are you doing?” And how do most of us answer that question? “Oh, I’m fine. The family’s good. How are you?” And the other person usually says, “Yeah, we’re fine too.”

And sometimes you are fine.

But sometimes you’re not, but you still answer, “Oh things are fine,” because this isn’t the time or the place to give an honest answer. “I’m fine,” you answer because maybe if you say it enough times you’ll start to believe it. “I’m fine,” you answer because to be more truthful would require you to reveal something personal or painful. “I’m fine,” we answer...even when it feels like we’re spending more time stumbling through dark valleys than resting in green meadows.

The woman in the market was not fine. She hadn’t been fine for a long time now—twelve years of visits to specialists with no answer, twelve years of pain that seemed to come and go without reason. She was tired. All her joints ached. She was tired of pretending, tired of hiding her hurt, tired of ignoring the pain. She was not fine.

So when Jesus walked by, she reached out to touch him. She needed someone to see that she wasn’t fine. She needed someone to understand. She needed to know that she wasn’t alone on this path through the valley of pain and isolation. She reached out and touched Jesus.

Jesus demands to know who touched him, and finally the woman steps forward. And as Jesus takes her hand, she hears the psalmist whisper, Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will not fear, for the Holy One is with me. And in that moment, she is flooded with hope as she realizes that she is not alone. She realizes that even when she isn’t fine, she’s being led by the shepherding spirit of the Living God.

A pastor was visiting with a family after a difficult funeral service.[1] He had just helped them bury their 9 year old son, and now family and friends were gathered at the family’s home. The child’s younger brother who was 5 was having an especially difficult time coping with the death of his brother. He had disappeared to his bedroom and was hiding under his bed. No amount of coxing from his parents would convince him to come out. The parents asked the pastor to see what he could do. He got down on the floor and looked under the bed where the boy had wriggled all the way to the back and was laying against the wall.

“Won’t you please come out?” the pastor said to the boy. “Your family is very worried about you.”

“I’m not coming out! I’m staying under here forever,” the grieving little boy announced.

The pastor considered this for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and wiggled his way under the bed too. He looked at the boy and said, “If you’re staying under here, I’m staying too.” After what seemed like a very long time, but in reality was probably a few minutes, the boy looked at the pastor and said, “I think I’m ready to come out now.” So the two crawled out from their dusty hiding place and went downstairs to share some milk and cookies.

I had just finished a visit at the hospital and was taking the elevator back to my level in the parking garage. Another woman got into the elevator just as the doors closed. She seemed upset, so I asked, “Are you okay?”

“No,” she said as she started to cry. “They just told me that my father is dying and I have to go make arrangements with Hospice.” And I held out my arms to her, and she fell into them and wept until the doors opened at her floor. “Thank you, you’re an angel,” she called to me as she headed for her car.

Some days we can say, “I’m fine,” and mean it. And other days, we can’t. Some days, we rest in the green meadows and drink from the still waters, and other days it seems the dark valleys of fear and confusion will swallow us up. Some days all we want to do it crawl under the bed and refuse to come out. And it is precisely here, that Jesus promises to find us. It is here, when you’ve wiggled so far under the bed that your back is against the wall that Jesus reaches out and says, “If you’re staying here, I’m staying too. You’re not alone in this place.” It is then, just as you find the courage to say, “No, I’m not okay,” that the gentle nudge of the Good Shepherd reassures you that the path through the valley doesn’t last forever.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil.

Even though I walk through the valley of loneliness, I am not alone.

Even though I walk through the valley of anxiety, I will find peace.

Even though I walk through the valley of doubt, I will cling to faith.

Even though I walk through the valley of grief, I will find joy.

Even though I walk through the valley of loss, I will uncover hope.

Even in the darkest valley, I will not fear, for the Good Shepherd goes with me on this road, and every road, guiding me with grace, goading me with hope, and leading me in light. Amen

1. [1] This is a “true story” shared by Ron Beinema, pastor of Highland Lake Cong. Church, Westbrook.