There is a path that must be journeyed for every Christian. There is a life that must be lived. There is a race that must be run. All of which must be done within the valley, the valley of the shadow of death.

There is no other path toward the Celestial city but this. All must go through this valley. But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who have faith and preserve their souls. (Hebrews 10:39) Through sword and peril, through loss and pain, He is able to save us to the uttermost. (Hebrews 7:25)

I met a young lady whose mother had recently died. She had been grieving deeply, assaulted by attacks of despair. She had a morbid preoccupation with her mother’s death. Then, one evening, she had a profound spiritual experience. She was alone, meditating on the words of Scripture. Suddenly she experienced a profound sense of the presence of God. As she prayed, some words thrust themselves forcibly into her mind. They were strong words. Emphatic. The words that were impressed on her brain were these: “Leslie! Death’s not like that!”

The grief was over. Leslie was delivered from her morbid spirit. A flash of understanding rescued her soul. A new view of death was born in her understanding.

When God gives us a vocation to die, He sends us on a mission. We are indeed entered into a race. The course may be frightening. It is an obstacle course with pitfalls in the way. We wonder if we will have the courage to make our way to the finish line. The trail takes us through the valley of the shadow.

The valley of the shadow of death. It is a valley where the sun’s rays often seem to be blotted out. To approach it is to tremble. We would prefer to walk around it, to seek a safe bypass. But men and women of faith can enter that valley without fear. David told us how:

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”—Psalm 23:4

David was a shepherd. In this psalm David puts himself in the place of the sheep. He sees himself as a lamb under the care of the Great Shepherd. He enters the valley without fear for one overarching reason: the Shepherd goes with him. He trusts himself to the care and the protection of the Shepherd.

The lamb finds comfort in the Shepherd’s weapons, the rod and the staff. The ancient shepherd was armed. He would use the crook of his staff to rescue a fallen lamb from a pit. He would wield his rod against hostile beasts that sought to devour his sheep. Without the shepherd the sheep would be helpless in the shadowy valley. But as long as the shepherd was present the lamb had nothing to fear.

If a bear or lion attacked the shepherd and killed the shepherd, the sheep would scatter. They would be vulnerable to the lion’s jaws. If the shepherd fell, all would be lost for the sheep.

But we have a Shepherd who cannot fall. We have a Shepherd who cannot die. He is no hireling who abandons his flock at the first sign of trouble. Our Shepherd is armed with omnipotent force. He is not threatened by the valley of shadows. He created the valley. He redeems the valley.

David’s confidence was rooted in the absolute certainty of the presence of God. He understood that with a Divine vocation comes Divine assistance and the absolute promise of Divine presence. God will not send us where He refuses to go Himself.

My best friend in college and seminary was a man named Don McClure. Don was the son of pioneer missionaries. He had grown up in the remote interior of Africa. Don personally discovered several tribes of primitive natives for whom he was the first white man they had ever seen. He had killed spitting cobras in his bedroom. He had a close encounter with a crocodile that had literally jumped into his small canoe with him. He had been rescued by his father at the last minute when he was surrounded by a hungry pride of lions.

I called Don “Tarzan” because his life mirrored the legends of Johnny Weismuller. He was the most fearless person I ever met. I always said that if I were trapped in a foxhole behind enemy lines in combat, the one man I would want with me is Don McClure.

I keep a newspaper clipping in my Bible that reports the martyrdom of Don’s father. A few years ago Don and his father were camped in a remote area of Ethiopia. During the night they were awakened by a surprise attack from Communist guerrillas. Don and his father were captured and dragged before a firing squad. Don stood next to his father when the guerrillas opened fire. First they shot Don’s dad, killing him instantly. Don heard the shot and saw the flame from the rifle that was pointed at him from six feet away. He fell next to his father, shocked to realize that he was still alive.

In the confusion of the night the guerrillas fled as quickly as they had appeared. Don hugged the ground, feigning death until all was quiet. He had suffered only minor flesh wounds though he was covered with powder burns. Fighting the impulse to flee, Don remained long enough to dig a shallow grave with his bare hands. There he committed his father’s body to the ground.

Don survived. His father didn’t. I still would be proud to have Don McClure at my side in the valley of the shadow. But I have one greater than Don who promises to go with me.

The presence of God is our refuge and our strength in times of trouble. His promise is not only to go with us into the valley. Even more important is His promise of what lies on the other side of the valley. God promises to go with us for the entire journey to guide us to what lies beyond. The valley of the shadow of death is not a box canyon. It is open-ended. It is a passageway to a better country. The valley leads to life—life far more abundant than anything we can imagine. The goal of our vocation is heaven. But there is no route to heaven except through the valley.

David also understood that. Though he lived before Christ, before the Resurrection, before the New Testament revelation of glory, nevertheless God had not been altogether silent on the matter. Already there was the hope of the bosom of Abraham.

David confessed his faith in this manner:

“I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”—Psalm 27:13

The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is the God of the living. The God of David is the God of the living. The God of Jesus is the God of the living. There is life beyond the shadow of death.

My father ran a race because God called him to run the race. He finished the course because God was with him through every obstacle. He kept the faith because the faith kept him.

This was a powerful legacy. It is the legacy the risen Christ gives to His sheep.

—R.C. Sproul, (1996, c1988). Surprised by Suffering. Wheaton, Ill.: Tyndale House Publishers.

Read more of “Surprised by Suffering” here, or purchase the book here.