The Valleys that Draw Us Ever Nearer

I’ve found myself in another valley. Except this time, it’s different. It doesn’t feel as dark and overwhelming. I’ve come to find peace in the unknown—acceptance in the havoc. I’ve discovered a radiance I didn’t notice before—a glimmer of hope in the destruction and decay of what used to be mine.

The loss still hurts, but it’s not suffocating. There’s a lightness to this pain because I realized I’ve never been the one carrying it. I got used to holding on to something that never belonged to me. And now that it’s gone, there’s freedom to let something new take its place. There’s room for God to bring something better. To show me what’s next.

Ups and downs.
Highs and lows.

Ebbs and flows.

Hills and valleys.

This is life. Life isn’t fixed, linear, or guaranteed. Life isn’t void of valleys, but it’s also not crowded with mountain tops. There’s beauty in the in-between seasons—the mundane days. Our lives can look a certain way one day and completely different the next.

When we’ve been climbing for so long, there’s excitement once the panoramic landscape comes into view. The neighboring mountains greet you magnificently and congratulate you on your accomplishment of making it up.

Now that you’re able to look down, it’s easy to forget what it’s like at a lower elevation. But in the distance, if you listen closely, you can hear faint laughter and small shouts of joy below. Because even in the deepest, most hidden valleys, there is still thanksgiving and adoration for the One who led them safely down.

The presence of pain isn’t the absence of praise.

These sounds of surrender and tear-filled prayers are just as praiseworthy and applauded as a grand celebration at the highest peak. Over the past few years, I’ve learned that there is salvation in suffering. There is redemption in rejection. And there is worship in waiting.

I’ve lost my job three times in three years, yet every time, I feel an overwhelming need to praise the Lord–

Praise Him in the pain because it’s part of a good plan.
Worship Him without knowing why He’s letting me go through this again.

To lift up my hands and let go of any lingering expectations of what this season should look like.

On Friday, I hopped on the most dreaded Zoom call to exist—the one where your employer tells you that you’re no longer employed with them. A shock wave typically hits first, followed by tsunami-sized emotions of anger, sadness, and confusion.

“But I thought everything was going well,” you tell yourself. “Why me?” you ask as the tears fall. “This wasn’t part of the plan,” you state to the four walls that seem to start closing in on you and your personal well of sorrow. Your thoughts suddenly drift into the deep ditches of self-doubt, “Was it something I did? Something about me they didn’t like?”

The tissues that stayed busy as you cried now lay lifeless all around you, serving as a reminder of what you just lost.

Finally, your tears slow, and your breathing returns to its natural rhythm. But you’ve been hollowed out and tossed aside like a crumpled-up piece of paper that served its one-time use. That empty feeling of unworthiness now gnaws at you until you give it what it wants– the total and complete agreement that you are unfit and undeserving of any good thing.

This feeling is one I know well. In past seasons, I’ve become close friends with rejection and seen its true colors. But this time, the part of my identity that rejection is so used to walking right into is adorned with a “Do Not Disturb” sign. Lies cannot overrun the identity I’ve found walking in the light. This time, Rejection will stand at the door of my heart– rejected.

There are seasons of stillness and green pastures.
Seasons of deep waters and searching in the dark.
At other times, we find ourselves in seasons of drought and disbelief. 

So, instead of giving myself a drink from my watering hole of woe, I picked myself up and dusted myself off. I may have lost my balance, but I did not lose my way. My eyes are still fixed on the God who gives and takes away (Job 1:21).

It’s only been a few days since I had the rug pulled out from under me. I fell to my knees, exhausted from receiving the same news every summer. I held myself close to keep my world from falling apart. I tried explaining to my loved ones what happened over the sobs that had a chokehold on my words. I sat with the familiar, overwhelming feeling that had pretended to comfort me last July and falsely promised it would be the last time I felt this way.

King David reminds us, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me” (Psalm 23:4).

During these seasons of unknown, fear, and long stretches of silence, we must draw ever nearer to the One who never lets us go. It would be easier to sit in the disappointment and let it become a reminder of what something could have been, but the only way to grow past the pain is to walk hand in hand with our Good Shepherd. We don’t get to choose when our valleys come, but we can choose who we walk them with. In Isaiah 40:4-5–

“Every valley shall be exalted.

And every mountain and hill brought low;

The crooked places shall be made straight

And the rough places smooth;

The glory of the Lord shall be revealed,

And all flesh shall see it together;

For the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”

There is and should be exaltation in our valleys. Praising the One who will deliver us and never forsake us in its depths. When we walk alone, apart from God, we are bound to stumble. The next mountaintop looks impossible to get to. But when we choose to give the expectations of our unexpected season to the Lord– we can stand upright and balance on two feet.

There’s a beautiful hymn that we often sing in worship to the Lord. This song has become a lyrical comfort to me as I journey through the valleys I find myself in today. It’s called “Jesus, Draw Me Ever Nearer” written by Keith Getty & Margaret Becker. In meditating on these lyrics, I hope you find reassurance that we can rest in a Heavenly Father who draws us closer to Him no matter where we are on this side of Heaven–

Jesus, draw me ever nearer.

As I labor through the storm.

You have called me to this passage,

and I’ll follow, though I’m worn.

May this journey bring a blessing,

May I rise on wings of faith;

And at the end of my heart’s testing,

With Your likeness, let me wake.

Jesus guide me through the tempest;

Keep my spirit staid and sure.

When the midnight meets the morning,

Let me love You even more.

Let the treasures of the trial.

Form within me as I go-

And at the end of this long passage,

Let me leave them at Your throne.

As I write this, I’m still freshly wounded but fueled with a fresh fire that brings me to my knees out of praise. Instead of trying to keep my world together, I gave my situation to my God, who holds the whole world in His hands. The truth is, I don’t know whether this will be the last time I give myself to a company just for them to give me up months later.

But I know that the God who knows what I’m going through also knows which environments are best for me to grow. If His hands are mighty and strong enough to hold the entire world, I shouldn’t be surprised to look up and see the Lord gently repurposing the tears I’ve shed to water the seeds He’s planted.

Because flowers grow in the valleys, too.