(Read Psalm 23)

Our walk with God as Christians has many parallels with walking physically. We need only think of John Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress" to understand quite vividly some of these parallels. "Footprints" - a poem about someone walking in the sand with Jesus and looking at the footprints behind him is another illustration. A song I recently wrote about "Keep on Climbing" also talks of our climbs in life through some steep places, to wonderful refreshments above.

Somehow, in all of these reflections of our spiritual walk, I never thought too much about valleys. People in my Sunday morning church service today were talking about valleys, and how God helped them through and eventually out of these valleys. As I listened, God brought some things to my mind from the many years I spent living and camping in the mountains. Follow along with me as I take a walk.

I think Bunyan had it exactly right when he described our circumstances before we met Christ. We are stuck and sinking in a filthy, smelly, snake infested swamp. Our feet are stuck in quicksand, and we are totally lost with no sense of what direction to strike out for even if we could get free. The more we struggle, the further into the bog we head, and the deeper the slime becomes. Only by reaching out to God willingly, and grasping His almighty hand, can He pull us quickly out and set us on a narrow, straight path. He also promises to stay beside us and guide us on the journey to come. He doesn't promise that it will be easy. In fact, He tells us it will be an arduous and sometimes painful journey, but the reward in the end will be worth it. So, off we start on this trail. At the beginning, it may seem easy and wonderful. We walk through some flat grasslands, along some sandy beaches beside quiet lakes. We cross a few bridges, and talk freely and often with Jesus, walking along beside us.

Soon, in the distance , we see a line of beautiful, snow capped mountains. Our path heads straight towards them, but their beauty is all we think about. As we get closer to those mountains, there are some foothills. But they aren't really all that steep, and we welcome the extra bit of exertion and revel in our ability to get to their rounded tops. And in between them are only minor, relatively shallow, smooth gullies. Nothing hard, and we can climb out of them quickly. All too soon, the first mountain is in front of us. That arrow straight path goes right up to the top. So, we start to climb. It may be a smooth, easy climb. It may be rocky and treacherous. Some may even quit. But with a few struggles, finally we get to that peak. Oh, the view is tremendous! The fresh, cool, pine scented breeze cools our sweaty brows, refreshing us. We want to sit for a while admiring the panorama before us. Valleys are far, far below us. We see the eagles soaring on the mountain winds. All is well.

But eventually, the breeze starts to feel cold. Only the exercise of walking some more will warm us up. And we see that the path still goes on, down the far side of our mountain and up the next one. We notice that the next mountain is a bit higher, and we wonder how much better the view will be from there. We want to go to that next peak. And off we set again. Sometimes, there is an easy ridge to walk along between our mountain and the next. We rejoice and admire the scenery again. But the trail goes on to another mountain, another viewpoint. And usually, that trail drops deep into the valley. It gets steep, and we stumble. The trees block out the sun, and we forget about the Son who walks with us. If we were to reach out and hold His hand, it would be so much easier. He knows this trail, for He has already walked it once, and could warn us of the dangerous areas and rocks. But, we focus only on ourselves - our aching feet, our buckling knees, the backpack digging ever deeper into our back as though it is slowly filling up with rocks. If we asked Him, Jesus would unload those rocks from our pack, making it lighter. But, we forget that He is there, and struggle on. We start to become bitter and complain. We mutter, "Why me?" "Why go through valleys at all? Why not go around the mountains altogether?" The magnificent vistas above us are forgotten. We are hot and thirsty and exhausted.

Just when we think we can't go any lower, the path drops suddenly even deeper beneath our feet. As we lose our balance and begin to fall, we instinctively call out for help. Just as suddenly as the fall began, it ends. In an instant, Jesus' hand has grasped ours, and held us up. We cry in shame and embarrassment, begging for His forgiveness. We wonder how we could ever have forgotten that He was there. He holds us close and leads us gently a few feet down the path to a crystal clear stream where we kneel and drink. He lightens our pack and then shoulders it Himself. We marvel at the beautiful waterfall just above us, and wonder aloud why we didn't see it before. "Keep looking up - not down," Jesus tells us. He quiets us and we hear the shrill cry of the eagle, far above us, which we have also forgotten. Motioning us to stand still, wildlife comes out of the trees and walks up to us to be petted. We cannot help but marvel at all that we have missed of the wonder and beauty in what we thought was a dark, depressing valley. Ahead of us, right in the middle of the path, glitters a wonderful gem. As we get close and examine it, we find that it is a huge diamond, perfect in every way. It reflects the sunlight in every color of the rainbow. As we bend to pick it up and take it with us, Jesus softly reminds us that our pack is heavy enough. He also points out that if we take it, others coming behind us will not be able to enjoy its beauty. We can look, examine, enjoy, and praise God for it, and then carry on refreshed. We again are overwhelmed with the realization that these gems are not found on the mountain peaks, but deep in the valley. We suddenly realize that the path is curving upwards again. It is time to leave this valley and climb the next mountain.

Up close, it looks like an impassable barrier. The path is very steep, and we start to wonder if it wouldn't be easier to just camp right here in this valley. Some have, by the looks of the old campfire circles. As we wonder aloud where they are, Jesus remind us of the prowling lions in the valley who seek whom they may devour. Before we can be too terrified to move, Jesus chuckles and tells us that the lions are afraid of Him, and will not bother us if we stay on the trail with Him. As we chat with Him, Jesus points out wonderful views and gives us lessons from nature. Busy as we are listening to Him, we let Him give us a hand through all the steep areas without even thinking about it. Before we know it, we are breaking out of these trees just below the summit. After that last, breathless scramble to the top, with Jesus giving us a final boost, we stand on another peak. The view is even more breathtaking, more wonderful than before. The breeze feels that much better, smells that much sweeter.

As we rest for a minute to drink in all of God's wondrous creation and praise Him for it, we notice that there is another mountain directly ahead. It is huge, ominous, with straight cliff walls soaring thousands of feet from the valley floor to the lofty peak. The valley itself is obscured by dark, grey clouds. Lightning flashes, thunder booms. We start to be afraid again. But as we look over at Jesus, He is smiling and holding out His hand to help us start the descent. He tells us that the rain forms the wonderful mountain lakes and creeks and waterfalls, and helps the lush plants to grow to feed the wildlife which we love to see and pet. When we query why the valleys have to exist, He lovingly reminds us that without valleys, there would be no mountains. All would be flat, and boring. No views, no lakes, no eagles, no wildlife, no waterfalls. As we nervously look across the valley at the steep cliffs across from us, broken only by the faint line of the trail we must walk, He holds us close and reminds us that He blazed that trail Himself. He knows where the steps are carved out of solid rock, and where a secret spring bubbles cool and clear out of a cleft in the rock. So we learn to trust Him, and take His hand as we descend into the unknown valley. Already we wonder what He'll show us this time, and feel a stirring of excitement thinking about the challenging climb to the peak ahead. And as we praise God, Jesus takes our hand, our backpack on His shoulder, and leads us onwards. First downwards, but only so that ultimately He can lead us upwards to new and greater heights.

We've learned to appreciate the valleys, so that we can appreciate the peaks even more. Ninety percent of the exhilaration of being on that mountain peak is the journey there! Our walk takes on new meaning. Praise God!