The Valley

On Sunday, she felt the Lord’s presence so heavily that she couldn’t stand. She tried to lift her hands in praise, but it was as though all the strength left her arms. She felt His warmth, and for a few minutes, the cares of the world evaporated.

On the way home, she wondered what had happened to her. “Was that real?” she asked aloud. Her oldest made a crack and the youngest said he was hungry. By mid-afternoon, the feeling had left and she was deep in a basket of unfolded clothes. Her phone dinged—work. Again. “Does she not know it’s Sunday?” (Her boss showed no indication of understanding boundaries.)

By six, her mood matched the darkening sky. She was back in the valley wishing for the mountaintop.

She remembered the lesson and dug out her notes, “The Valley of Baca, Psalms 84,” she read and remembered the Pastor’s teaching. The trees in the valley secreted sap that made it look like they were weeping. She fought her own tears and decided not to rehearse the previous year’s downs. Instead, she said, “God, I know your word says you refine me in the valley. I need to feel your presence. I’m tired of being tired and sad. I’m never this way when I’m near you. Let me near you.”

A thought crossed her mind, shooting past like a burning meteorite. “You are mine.” Nothing more. But her gloom lifted just as fast as the words departed. She felt strangely lighter.

My soul longs, even faints, for the courts of the LORD;

my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.

My soul longs, even faints, for the courts of the LORD;

my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. (Psalms 84:2, 6-7 BSB)