Lessons Learned in the Valley

By Abby

Outwardly, nothing has really changed. You still go through the same motions, do the same things, and see the same people. But somehow, the things that used to bring you so much joy and fulfillment have become empty. You slowly lose touch until suddenly... you find that you don't really know how to relate "spiritual stuff" to real life.

Sunsets no longer take your breath away. A bend in the road doesn't excite you. Spring loses its triumph. Everything is a shade of gray. You only realize it in a numb, detached way.

You feel as though, if someone asked you for godly advice, you would laugh, or cry, or both.

You sit down to pray and there's only awkward silence between you and God.

When you're honest with yourself, you wonder: Is God real? Should I actually put my whole life into this? Does He really care? You ask yourself: Is this a test? Is God hiding His face from me? Or is this my fault - did I cause this void between us?

You feel alone. It's irrational, of course, because you have friends, family, people in your life who love you. But inside your head... where your dreams and your hopes reside... you feel desolate, abandoned, completely, and utterly... alone.

All the grayness, numbness and uncaring builds up. The questions and doubts pile higher and eventually some straw breaks the camel's back. You come to a breaking point. You find yourself railing at God, asking "Why?" and crying tears of desperation.

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"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you.  You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart." Jeremiah 29:11-13 (NIV)

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I have just been through one of the funkiest of all spiritual funks in my life thus far. It was full of pits, valleys and boulders that refused to budge. And truth be told, I'm not all the way out. But I'm climbing now - no longer falling. And that's good!

The truth of the matter is that we all go through deep, dark places. Bad things happen to us and around us. There are deaths, divorces, trauma, injustice, lies, diagnoses, stressful schedules, needy siblings, disappointments, arguments, and missed opportunities.

And through it all, whether you're going through one big thing or a combination of seemingly "smaller" things, bitterness is clamoring to take root.  For me, bitterness had spread its gnarly roots wide and deep.  And that has made the weed-pulling a slow and painful process.

Climbing out of this particular valley has taught me some hard lessons. So instead of relegating them to the messy pages of my journal, I want to share them with you.

First of all, sit down and have a meeting with God – a painfully honest one. Tell Him everything - everything - that you feel, think, wish, and hate. He's big. He can handle it.

Then sit down and have a meeting with yourself. Evaluate. Examine. Write down some goals and dreams, some heartbreaks and disappointments. Say, "Hello, self. How are you?" Expect a sarcastic reply.

Write out your prayers. This is something I do because I'm right-brained, disorganized and flighty. (Warning: if you decide to do this, get a very large journal and brace yourself for writer's cramp.)

Reject bitterness and choose joy. (This has become a sort of personal mantra.) It may seem hard, but you must come to a place where joy is a choice. Not a feeling or an emotion, but a lifestyle.

Take a walk. Feel the wind. Drink in whatever nature surrounds you, whether it's a dandelion growing through a cement crack, or the glorious mountains in your backyard. (Note: if you have mountains in your backyard, I'm severely envious.)

Do whatever it is that makes you feel alive and thriving. Paint. Write. Sing. Hike. Dance. Climb. Go horse-back riding. Listen to music. Take pictures. Read poetry. Run. Plant flowers. These aren’t mushy, feelings-oriented exercises. God gives us passions and delights, and life becomes gray when we don't pursue them.

Spend time with God. Lots of it. Quality and quantity. He's a friend, a confidant, a Father, a lover. He is every good and perfect human relationship combined, at its best, and more. He can be our all in all. But, if that's what we want, we must be with Him and not simply be content with the occasional nod in His direction or tossing a prayer heavenward. *

*(Ahem. Guilty as charged.)

Don't forget to listen to God. He has a lot to say. And the great thing is He speaks through every possible avenue of communication! The trick is learning to listen.

Lastly, give yourself time. Look at it kind of like grieving or getting over a sickness. You're not instantly going to be well and whole. This spiritual valley has wounded you, broken you. And healing takes time.