A Psalm 23 reflection from a season of waiting
It’s a hard season our family is walking through right now. She is still with us, but in so many ways, my grandma is already gone. She lived a long life, but this happened so quickly. As we sat in her room talking about her, questions flooded my mind.
God, how long can this go on?
What is the point?
Can’t You just take her home?
I’ve always loved this kind of conversation with God, even though it’s often the hardest seasons that birth the scariest questions. I call them scary because with every question, the reality of how little control I have hits me right in the gut. So I’ve been trying to intentionally take time to “be still…” and listen for His answers.
My mind keeps returning to Psalm 23:4:
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”
It’s the words shadow and death that I can’t get past.
A shadow can only exist if something real is casting it. And just like that, God reminds me — death may be near, but it does not have the final word. Death isn’t even the key word in this verse. When recited in its entirety, verse 4 ends with, “…I will fear no evil, for You are with me.”
Satan intends for the shadow to whisper lies — you’re alone, this is too scary, this hurts too much. But we are never alone.
So what I see — what I’m being reminded of — is this: yes, I am losing a best friend, my grandma. And yet, in seasons like this, where the hope of heaven allows us to live in a strange balance of sadness and joy, the nearness of God matters more than ever.
His very presence is the light that stands between us and the object casting the shadow.
And His presence — the Light of the World, as Jesus calls Himself in John 8:12 — eliminates the shadows.
So again I hear God say, don’t just keep your eyes on Jesus — keep your entire heart and mind fully focused on Him!