As we journey through the crisis of COVID-19, is there any hope beyond the suffering that all of us in one way or another are going to have to bear? Ultimately, if we are going to suffer, then is it possible that we can we learn to suffer well together?
Picking up from our last meditation on Psalm 23, verses 1-3, here we reflect on verse 4, a turning point in the poet’s pilgrimage. I can only imagine what might have been going through David’s mind when he composed this verse–the struggles, failures, setbacks, and successes. The following comes through clearly: the verse gives voice to David’s resolve to make the most of what lay ahead of him. It evidences David’s resilience to press on despite the setbacks he experienced at the hand of others or that were brought about by his own foolish and rash behaviour. What is worthy of further introspection however is the conditionality for such resolve and resilience–not a matter of the poet’s personal grit and determination to make it through the storm, so to speak, but the real assurance of God’s enduring presence throughout the poem beginning with the image of the Shepherd who guides and protects (verses 1-3) and culminating with the image of God as table Host (verses 5-6).
In between the beginning calm and the final rest however verse 4 brings to light the potential peril of the poet’s pilgrimage: the inevitable reality of walking through “the valley of the shadow of death”; there’s no way around it.
Parallel lessons from The Hobbit
By way of illustration, Bilbo Baggins and his band of merry dwarves along with their guide, the wizard Gandalf, undertake a similar journey in the film, The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (2013). The journey to their destination leads them through Mirkwood Forest, a place once beautiful but now corrupted by evil. As the band of travellers make their way through Mirkwood Forest the atmosphere of evil causes their minds to become confused. Mirkwood symbolises a place–a stage in the journey, if you will–where you begin to hear and to see things that do not make sense, at least in terms of your established set of assumptions of life, the world, God, and people. It is where you begin to lose your grip on what is real and what is not. Truth is obscured by fear. What seemed plausible previously is now seemingly impossible. Hope gives way to deception. In fact, it now appears that there is indeed “truth” to the horror of what lies before you. In the film, the giant spiders that capture their prey in their sticky webs and feast upon the flesh of their captives are a real and present danger. Trying to evade the forest of fear would mean a detour of hundreds of miles to the north or to the south, which would make it too late for the mixed band of creatives to arrive at their destination and thereby fulfil their mission. Ultimately, Baggins and his crew press on through the forest and put themselves at risk. They make it through, but not without some life-altering experiences that they in fact needed in order for them to successfully complete their task (such as encountering the Wood Elves who saved them from the spiders and who then go on to play a key role in their mission later on).
Returning to what lies before our psalmist in verse 4 — the valley of the shadow of death is indeed a real and present danger. But if there were any question of evading the “walk” through this valley, then it is defeated by the conditional clause, “even though…I will.” Additionally, the decision is neither to “run” nor to somehow “push through” but to “walk” through the valley.
Implications of the conditional clause
First, what conditions do we tend to lay before ourselves as we make our decision to journey through the valley of the shadow of death? Second, is our typical tendency to walk, or run (symbolically, of course)?
Left to myself, most often, I feel entitled to a better life. Who in their right minds would sign up to walk through the valley of the shadow of death? Christ did, eventually. In the context of Psalm 23, David chooses to walk through the valley of the shadow of death. And the thing is Christ invites us to join him in his journey. We recollect from Luke 9:22-27 when he revealed to his disciples for the first time the explicit nature of his suffering, how he was going to be crucified, he also tells them what they can expect for themselves: “Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat—I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how.”
Evasion is often the enemy of creativity, especially in the face of danger. I am sure most of us would agree that the choice to evade suffering in this world is an illusion. All of us suffer in one way or another. It is how we suffer that ultimately decides our fate–suffering for good (is there such a thing?) or suffering for evil. But who determines that? For Bilbo Baggins, it might have been his innocent decision to follow through with what he started; but for David, I imagine, it was his faith in God that shapes his logic. Fear corrupts reason. But breakthrough creativity presses on to conquer the corruption of fear and deceit and the lies of evil.
Don’t run from suffering; embrace it.
in the context of Luke 9:22-27
So, what does all this mean for how we might paraphrase Psalm 23, verse 4 from the perspective of our own lives and experience of journeying through the valley of the shadow of death? I will share my paraphrase in the next part of this two-part reflection on Living the Psalms, Psalm 23:4.
