The greatest servants of God go through seasons of doubt. You are not alone. If you’re in a place of spiritual skepticism, don’t be ashamed, but recognize that the Lord walks us through such valleys to graciously protect us from ourselves.
You and I need such valleys, because valleys are God’s mysterious way of protecting us from our foolish pride. You and I tend to underestimate how insidiously our pride operates by nature – and how much havoc our pride can wreak. Pride percolates silently but steadily. Pride blinds and betrays us. Pride puffs us up until we interpret the whole world through the myopic lens of, “What’s in it for me?” Pride pushes each one of us into a version of us that doesn’t make us happy, while telling us that we deserve to be happy – and insisting that we ought to be happy. Pride makes us unhappy, and then condemns us for our unhappiness.
Pride never sleeps, and it’s never content to invade only one small corner of my soul. It’s cancerous and insatiable. It wants all of me. It wants all of you too.
Ironically, it’s the religious community where pride is most dangerous, and where it can do the most damage. That’s because we who inhabit the religious world are masters at explaining away our pride. Like the Pharisees of old, we tend to justify our pride and our prideful responses to others. In fact, we live in an environment where pride can be obscured behind labels like “purity,” “sincerity,” and “conviction.” When we feel the need, we’re known to employ clever words to cover our sin.
That’s what pride does. And religious pride is the worst. Spiritual pride – which ought to be oxymoronic – is a monster and a killer. Nobody sees it coming. Our unchecked ego can blow through like a tsunami that evaded the radar. Hurricane Helene was horrific, and Milton looks no less monstrous, but – when it comes to widespread danger and destruction – there’s nothing like a proud church. Or a Christ follower who’s proud but doesn’t know it.
So don’t despise your present faith struggle, painful as it may be. God may be honing in on something vitally important for your growth in grace. Frankly, I’d be more worried if you never doubted. That’s because the moment we think we have our faith all ironed out is the moment we ought to be the most concerned. Pride is subtle and sneaky. It can morph into whatever shape it needs to take in order to deceive us. “All is well,” our pride whispers, when all is not well.
There is hope for our pride, but we usually find that hope in the valley. The Bible says that “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6). In reality, we don’t want our faith all “ironed out,” because we want there to be room – always – for God to change us. To show us where we’ve been wrong. To show us how much we need Him – especially when and where we don’t even recognize our need.
Mysterious valley. Precious valley. Wondrous valley.
The Israelites were encamped in a valley when young David secured his great victory over Goliath. A more mature David promised us the very presence of God even in the valley of death’s dark shadow. And it was in a valley where Elijah heard and saw the dry bones rattle with unexpected life!
The valley can be a great teacher. A great disciple-maker. A great restorer of a sound mind. A great reviver of a battered and tattered and tired faith. Sometimes our most exhilarating and life-giving interaction with God comes in what we thought was just another lonesome valley. And sometimes it’s right there in the valley where God wrestles us to the ground.
Sometimes, what you and I can’t possibly see from the highest mountaintop, we can see only from the valley.
So God leads us to the valley. And, though He never really left us – even for a millisecond – there in the valley we find Him. Amen. “Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you” (James 4:8).
Sacred valley.
“But,” you say, “this doesn’t feel like I’m wrestling with God. It feels like I’m wrestling with Satan.” Ah, that may be true, but never forget that God is sovereign over your every struggle. There’s nothing touching you that He isn’t allowing for your good and for His glory. Trust Him and fight. Trust Him, and surrender. “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you” (James 4:7).
Wrestling with our faith in Christ might be the best thing ever to happen to us, friends. When this round is over, we may walk with a limp, but a real encounter with the living God will have been well worth it.
Our God loves us far too much to leave us running on empty – running on our empty pride. And resurrection always starts with a mortal blow.
Pastor Charles
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