Night Stalkers
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me. Psalm 23:4
Shadow of Death – Are you afraid of the dark? Oh, I don’t mean the night. At night there is still light – the stars, perhaps the moon, the glow of the city over the hill, airplanes plowing the red-eye special. Even in David’s time, long before our nights were crowded with man-made neon, there was still light. That’s not the kind of dark described in these two words. If you want to know what real darkness is, then come with me to the Lava River State Park in Bend, Oregon and hike a mile through the ancient lava tunnel under the earth. When you have traveled that mile into the ground, turn off the lantern. Now you know what it means to be in the dark. It is pitch black. Not a single flicker or glimmer. Nothing but strange sounds. Don’t move an inch. You can’t see anything and you have no idea where you are stepping. You are stuck right there until that lantern comes back on.
That’s the “shadow of death.” Sometimes translated as “thick darkness,” two Hebrew words are combined to describe a place that is utterly without sight (tsalmaveth). You are blind in spite of the fact that your eyes work. Once you have experienced that kind of darkness, you will have no trouble connecting it to the emotional darkness of utter despair or the spiritual darkness of terrifying fear.
We need this kind of context to understand what David really says. David did not enjoy our perspective on heaven. In his time, Sheol awaited everyone. The concept of afterlife was not so clear. What was entirely obvious to him was that all men die. The transitory character of life is God’s own work (Psalm 90:3) and no one could oppose it. Hebrew calls those who have departed “shadows.” To walk through the valley where these dead spirits dwell was frightening indeed. It was as close to personal dying as anyone could get.
Now, says David, I walk in precisely that place, the place that is occupied by the dead, the shadows. And yet, I will not fear evil. For a man who spent years living in caves, who knew the realm of total darkness, this is no trivial statement. For a man who knew betrayal, lost love, discouragement, depression, sacrifice, oppression and rejection, this is an incredible claim. David journeyed into the place where men disappear from the earth. He smelled death. He tasted the putrid air. And yet he wills not to be afraid.
When the shadow land is pressing against my neck, David reminds me that I need to know only one thing: God is with me. I cannot see Him in the dark, but He has promised not to leave me, and He doesn’t lie. My blindness doesn’t matter. I do not need to see in order to trust Him. Do I?
