There was a valley God picked out for me.
Its pathways wound into the shadows where dangers lurked on every side.
It was filled with rocks I stumbled on and rushing rivers I had not the strength to cross.
My path was lost through the gloomy mist that settled deep into my soul.
I slipped . . . I fell.
My cries for help didn’t seem to carry through the thickened fog while my tears fell like rain.
A battle raged within, for this was not the valley I had picked out for me.
Mine was to be filled with flowery meadows, not the stony path at my feet.
It was to have been a sunny place, not a darkness so thick I lost all sense of direction.
But I kept feeling His hand push me onward.
So gently He guided my way.
Then at last through the mist I could see it.
My mountaintop where I knew He awaited me.
I got to the end of my valley and took a deep breath of His love.
He’d seen me through my dark valley and my heart was filled with such joy.
I turned to look back at my valley that had left its mark on my soul.
Then I heard it.
A cry for help down in the valley.
It came from the mist and the gloom.
Someone was walking through my valley and they cried out as they fell on the path.
The rivers were too great for them to cross – the boulders too heavy to move.
Then as I stood listening, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
And heard the Spirit whisper, “Go, son.
Someone needs you down in your valley.
Down where the rivers run deep.
They need help with the huge heavy boulders and the stony path at their feet.
Their tears are falling like rain and they’ve fallen and cannot get up.
They need you, my son, now go on.”
So back down in my valley I went.
Through the gloom and the mist I trudged on.
And there I found a dear brother and gave him a hand on his way.
Together we walked that dark pathway till the top of the mountain was seen.
And the view from the top of that mountain was sweeter for I’d conquered my valley yet again– for the love of a brother.