driven
I recently found myself required to go somewhere I never really wanted to go—into the passenger seat of a car with my child behind the wheel! If I’m being honest with you, I assumed teaching Scarlett to drive would be like potty-training was 14 years ago—no accidents, fully confident in her new ability in three days flat. Within minutes of our first drive together, this assumption was dashed to pieces as the tires jumped the curb right into a neighbor’s lawn. There is a reason I never considered homeschooling this girl, and I should have realized that the same reason would apply to why I should not be her driving instructor. Scarlett is an amazing student, and I can be an excellent instructor, but we simply fail to connect well in a student-teacher relationship. This is certainly not my girl’s fault—we both bring our junk to the table (or vehicle) and have far less patience with each other than we would ever have with our friends. I quickly grew to dread our driving lessons, knowing that one or both of us would likely conclude the lesson in tears.
Has anyone ever led you somewhere that you did not want to go? Perhaps into the bowels of a ramshackle building that houses the latest Halloween fright fest? Maybe the place you do not want to go is the new town that is soon to become your home, as recent life circumstances have necessitated a job change. It might be that you simply do not want to go to church anymore, that you are tired of going through the motions and weary from plastering a rosy façade over your troubled life. Do you want to avoid walking into your own home because of a floundering marriage or a wayward child?
I just listened to a story about two Iranian women whose faith in Jesus allowed them to change lives while in prison, simply by being true to Christ and treating others with his love. You can rest assured these brave women did not want to be led into the shockingly horrific situations they were forced to endure, but what the Lord had for them in captivity far outweighed their physical freedom. (You can listen to their compelling story here on the Doubletake episode from Sept. 1, 2023, “Three Questions.”)
God often takes us places we do not want to go with a good plan that only His eyes can see. Psalm 23 reflects upon the Lord’s leading in David’s life. Verse 4, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me…” is a well-known line that we often apply to the human experience of death. This is an application that can bring much hope and comfort to both those who are nearing the end of their earthly lives and their loved ones. However, there is another layer to this analogy that is worth exploring. David’s reference to “the valley of the shadow of death” contains much more depth than our untrained minds initially comprehend.
The imagery of a shepherd and his sheep would have been well understood in the agrarian culture of the day. As Philip Keller explains in A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23, verse 4 corresponds to the beginning of the summer season, when a shepherd takes his flock on a long drive from their hometown, where he winters his precious charges, to the rich, tableland pastures high up in the mountains (pp. 97-109). The mountaintop destination is a place of abundance, great provision, and tremendous beauty, but in order to reach this promise of plenty, the shepherd and his sheep must embark upon a long journey.
The best routes to the tableland pastures are those that traverse the dark valleys. The sheep can safely manage the gradual uphill terrain, and they have access to fresh water from the cascading mountain streams that course through the valleys. However, valleys can be fraught with dangers: wild predatory animals, rocks slides and avalanches, and flash floods that transform peaceful streams into raging rivers. As David relates this analogy to his own human existence as a child of God, he writes, “I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” The rod and staff refer to the shepherd’s tools that he uses to lovingly guide and protect his sheep when dangers abound. He wields the rod and staff with the strength of a warrior and the tenderness of new mother, not wanting one of his own to perish.
When the skies darken and the wind shakes the tree trunks, the sheep certainly do not wish to put one hoof in front of the other, but their shepherd knows what is best and he is equipped to bring them to safety so that they may wait out the storm and press on toward the goal. The sheep cannot see what riches lie ahead, but the shepherd knows. He comforts them and leads them forward.
So too with us. Our Shepherd intimately knows the course of each of our lives. He knows where our difficult journeys will end, and He tenderly prods us along through the valleys, never forsaking us, always providing just what we need to survive another day. The Lord will give us the tools to maneuver our lives through the oncoming traffic and obstructions, and ultimately, we will be driven to a place of safety and abundance.
In Phil. 3:12-14 Paul encourages us in this journey as one of Christ’s own, telling us how he does it: “forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead…” If you find yourself heading down a path that is not of your own choosing, keep your eyes locked on your Savior. You may not be able to see the abundance, provision and beauty that lies ahead, and you may wonder how it will even be possible to taste God’s goodness again, as the darkness seems to be all-encompassing. Even in this dreadful place, He is with you. Trust Him and take the path He has forged. As Jesus said, “In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world” (Jn. 16:33).
