I'm not really sure how you're doing, if you're just barely hanging in there, or if your life is on top of the world. I'm not sure if you're weary to the bone, or if life just can't stop bubbling out of you. I'm not really sure if someone walked out of your life when you really needed someone to walk in, or if you can't stop eating, or if you can't start.  And I'm not sure if you're stressed about where your gonna live in the near future, or if you need a job, or if you're terrified sick about school.  And I'm not sure if your bones are breaking when you're needing them to heal, or if your body seems to just be giving up you.  I'm not sure what your fear is, or how deep it goes. I'm not sure what you hurts are, or how fresh they feel. And I'm not sure if you're in full force world wars with God, or if his sweetness is just lavishing upon you.


I'm not really sure.
And I'm just assuming that there's a whole rainbow of us out there.


But what I am starting to see is that those Puritan's were right when they cried out to God: that the Valley is the place of vision, that the broken heart is the healed heart, that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit, that the deeper the wells the brighter the stars. And that these prayers weren't carelessly prayed, but that they were belched out in unadulterated truth.


So maybe you didn't have the greatest day, or week, or month, year, maybe even decade, but that valley, that valley that you're walking through it is the place of vision, the place of creativity, the place life giving paradox.


So may you live in your valley, and may you live there well. Not trying to get out, go around, or skip over. But may you walk right through it, with unclenched teeth and a skipping heart. Because there is rest for the weary, love for the fearful, food for the malnourished, companionship for the lonely, there is grace for the sinner, and life for the wounded, holiness for the broken. Because  that's just who Christ is, and what he's about.