Down Into the Valleys

A devotional on the place He (sometimes) assigns for us.

Main Street in Sutter Creek, California | Photo by Cherise Henry

5 He set the earth on it's foundations; it can never be moved. 6 You covered it with the watery depths as with a garment; the waters stood above the mountains. 7 But at your rebuke the waters fled, at the sound of your thunder they took to flight; 8 they flowed over the mountains, they went down into the valleys, to the place you assigned for them. 9 You set a boundary they cannot cross; never again will they cover the earth. —Psalm 104:5-9

A few weeks ago I sent a text to a group of best girlfriends that said: “This Christmas is hitting me hard, it feels like not enough and too much at the same time, and when I think of our friendship and convos about life and Jesus, I feel a breath of thankfulness in my soul.”

A week before that I sent a text to our Bible study group that said: “The season is getting to me, the ‘I want this’ and complaining about not doing one more festive thing or it not being enough, and I’m (insert wild eyes emoji). Truly asking the Lord to bring ENOUGH to my heart, that just like Jesus is enough for us, whatever we are or are not doing in this season, is also enough.”

Anyone else feel taken out at the end of this December? Or the end of this year?

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Currently I’m sitting barefoot in an arm chair next to two windows in a bougie hotel room in Sutter Creek where they serve my favorite Temple Coffee and it’s a little rainy and perfectly chilly to keep the windows wide open with a candle burning nearby my scribbled notebooks, Bible, and Spotify playlist Love Coffee, Love Jesus.

I’m on my once-annual solo retreat—it’s been five years since my last—where I set intentional time with the Lord, reflect on the year prior, and prayerfully look ahead to the year to come full of hopes and dreams, goals and prayers to catapult me into what will surely be The Best Year Ever.

I arrived one day early to the hotel lobby in desperate need of rest and restoration. This year felt like one too-long wrestling match with the Lord in obedience and surrender to His will, and within my marriage where we’ve been stumbling through recovery, discovery, and healing together.

And then December just about did me in.

Our home life exploded at the seams of kids birthdays, endless Christmas wonder and magic, and a season that feels like too much (all the gifts! all the money required! all the activities! all the gatherings!) and not enough (bored during winter break! unappreciated gifts! ungrateful trips!) at the very same time.

The day after Christmas, I melted into a puddle of misery ignoring my husband and four kids in my own home moping around like the Grinch wanting to steal all the gifts and joy that was leftover and toss them off the edge of Mount Crumpit.

“I totally understand what Grinch meant when he said he hates Christmas, the whole Christmas season,” I thought to myself. I was just done with it all.

All day the enemy was shouting out lie after lie about my heart being three sizes too small and how terrible of a mother and wife I was and why can’t I just snap out of it, desperately trying to push me deeper into this all-too-sudden state of unwellness.

Instead, at the recommendation of my husband and the approval of the hotel admin, I checked into my retreat one day early, limping, battered, and bruised … but hopeful.

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Scripture is where I most clearly hear, and feel the presence of, God. My daily Bible readings at the start of my retreat led me to Psalm 104 where it quickly reminded me of one of my favorite verses, Luke 12:27, and how God’s care and adoration for His creation is just unfathomable.

But it was verse eight that caught my attention, sending butterflies of familiar hope to my soul.

… they flowed over the mountains, they went down into the valleys, to the place you assigned for them. — Psalm 104:8

… down into the valleys, to the place you assigned for them.

What if, like the waters, God purposefully sends us past the mountains—the highs of life where we feel successful and joyful and full of vision and love—and instead into the low valleys where He can do the work only He can do in this place?

It’s worth repeating. Read this slowly and let is sit with your heart a minute.

What if God sends us with intention into the valleys—the lows of life where we feel unworthy and sorrowful and confused and it’s painful and full of darkness and grief and emptiness—a place where he has assigned—appointed to a particular task and designated for a specific purpose—to you and to me.

If God is who He says He is, as we are reminded over Christmas season specifically as Emmanuel meaning “God with us,” then why would I not trust that He has purpose in this valley? That He is not with me here?

Well, because the valley hurts. It has no end that we can see with our human eyes. We don’t know the way out or how much longer we’ll be here. We want to experience the sunset and sunrise from the hilltops. We’re utterly exhausted. We’re lonely down here.

This retreat is offering me another kind of “breath of thankfulness in my soul” that I so desperately need to continue trudging through the valley. And over the last twelve months I have often heard a quiet whisper amidst the amplified noise around me that basically says until I learn what He wants me to learn in this season, until I truly surrender it all over to Him, I will remain in the valley he has assigned for me.

I imagine His words being something like: “Yes, My stubborn and sweet daughter, of course there is a way out of this valley, and I will personally show you the way holding your trembling and frustrated hand, but not until you excavate from the valley what I have set out for you to find. Look for Me here in the valley with you, and you will see.”

My eyes are open, Lord.

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Pray with me: Jesus, we love You. Thank you for being who You are. Help us to see You in this place, in the valley we may be walking through right now, and all of the valleys to come. We know there will be more, as You tell us life isn’t just lived in the mountaintops but also in the valleys. There is real purpose in this place and we will rest in Your truth and Word. Lord, lead us through the valleys as we cannot do it alone, as hard as we may try, and yet you are so patient with us, Jesus, thank you for always being with us. Let there not be a moment wasted in this place, and show us what You want us to see as we walk, or maybe limp, through the valley. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

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Read Psalm 104. What does a valley look like for you in this season? Do you see Jesus? How can you look for Him in this place? Think of someone who you can be authentic with about your valley and share your heart with her, encourage yourself through your openness, how Jesus is showing up for you. Write a prayer that is on your heart today.