Psalm 23
This past weekend I attended a workshop on how to have conversations surrounding the issues of death and dying. The discussions were good, even though they began by being mostly surrounded around how to "quote scripture" when comforting someone who is dying. The leader of the workshop didn't intend for the conversation to go that way, but as most good leaders would, he allowed for the group to be in conversation about what they think.
Of the 18 people who were there, only 2 or 3 people were actually a part of this conversation, so, again as a good leader will do, the question was posed, "Does anyone else have something to add?" Most of you who have been in a group discussion of that size might understand that sometimes it feels that if your viewpoints aren't being discussed, maybe they aren't the right ones. It took about 30 seconds before someone else asked, "What do you do if the person isn't a Christian, but needs comforting anyway?"
A sigh of relief went through the group, literally, as the conversation would hopefully now be about comforting someone versus preaching at someone. Imagine, then, how the group was surprised at the response by the leader. "Who here can tell me of the perfect scripture to represent in a case like that?"
After a few questions for clarification we understood that what he meant was what are some of the stories in the bible we can bring to those who need comforting, not necessarily the words of those stories. The Prodigal Son and its message of extravagant forgiveness and the Thief at the Cross and its promise that we will live on in blessed eternity were a couple of stories that got tossed around. Then, as though we had forgotten (maybe because we had) the leader mentioned Psalm 23.
We were asked to close our eyes and imagine ourselves in the valley of the shadow of death and describe in one word or two what that felt like. Cold, dark, overwhelmingly vast, fear, and loneliness were the words which came through. Then we were asked to open our eyes and imagine what happens when Jesus enters that valley. Warmth overtook coldness, light came into darkness, clear direction replaced vastness, courage beat out fear. But mostly, companionship restored the sense of being alone.
When someone is going through a difficult time in their life, whether it be facing death or moving away for college or getting into a big fight with their family, the presence of Christ as they walk the path through their very personal valleys of shadow can be just what they might need to get them through to the other side. To be like Christ is to be that same presence. And through the gift of companionship, compassionate companionship, we become the light, warmth, or way of offering direction that is most needed.
We all walk through our valleys of shadow. It helps to know we never walk alone.
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