I am in the valley. When I first enter the valley, it’s disorienting, terrifying and dark; nothing is familiar and everything is distorted. It’s not like the lush green valleys in the mountains covered in a layer of mist. No. The valley is more like a dungeon, foreign noises echoing bouncing down corridors. I am locked up with no place to go, cold and damp, alone. This is the valley.

Perhaps you’ve been in the valley. I’m sure yours looked differently than mine. One thing about the valley though is it is unmistakably a place of deep sorrow, pain and unrelenting anguish. No one joins you in the valley. They may view you from up above and see what you are going through, but they cannot travel with you in the valley.

You see, the valley is that place where God has something to say to you. What that is, I do not know. It is hard to hear His voice in the valley. But perhaps the world has enveloped you or me in such a way, He removes us from the world so that we have but no choice to give Him our undivided attention once the panic of this place dies down. Prayers are raw in the valley. We don’t mince words. We pour them out, scream them out. Eventually we run out of words and then the only thing we have left is what our heart can convey – and in that moment, the Holy Spirit steps into the valley to listen. He translates what our hearts cannot put into words and lifts those prayers up to the mighty God who has been waiting to hear.

I’ve noticed that when I’m not in the valley, talks with God are casual, sometime rote. Life is busy and although I’m spending time with Him, I’m probably not listening for His voice, truly reaching out for His direction. Even the things I ask for, plea for may not be what my soul desires deep down inside. The valley strips and rips all of that away. Air on our skin can hurt in the valley because there is so much pealed away that God says must go in order for what truly matters for our souls to be revealed. God can use the valley to reveal more about us to ourselves than Him. He already knows the deepest recesses of our being. But it is important to Him that we know what is really going on inside.

What have I put before God? What hurdles or walls have I built that affect my relationship with Him? Am I even aware of their existence? What worldly drapes have I wrapped myself in? In the valley, I don’t need to know what they are. In the valley, God tears all of them away from me. In the valley, He gets my attention by any and all means.

I’m still in the valley, but it’s not as frightening. The voices of His faithful followers flow down from vents and caverns to reach my ears. He is using them to drown out the chaos of the valley and remind me that He is already there to meet me. I have no idea what His plans are for me now or in the future. I have so many questions about that. “Why this way?” “What happens if…” “Why not…” “What if…” God isn’t afraid of my questions. He knows me better than I know myself. He knows that with each small revelation I eventually see, the questions will become wiser. I’m still cold, but I don’t feel alone in the valley.

One day, there will be a story to be told about how God was working in me in the valley; chapters about what He was doing in my life up above the valley; how He was refining me through it all. Each path out of the valley is different and I have no idea what the world will look like once He leads me out. But there is no one else who can lead me out. I can choose to stay here or follow my Shepherd. I choose Him.