The Shadow of Death

When I was in college I would sometimes wake in the middle of the night to a panicky feeling, only to realize it was because I’d forgotten to deliver someone’s drink at my waitress job or to turn in a paper at school. Not exactly life threatening, so it didn’t take me long to go back to sleep. Later when I became a wife and mother, I woke to thoughts a bit more important like kids’ schedules and overdue bills. Again, nothing critical. But now I feel like I’m constantly aware of the ticking clock hours before I want to be. My mind races with weighty issues that are completely out of my control, like the overabundance of drugs, pornography, and violence that my boys will have to navigate as they grow up and go off on their own. I haven’t been a news watcher for a long time, and I’ve recently adopted the habit of reciting as much Scripture in my head as it takes to doze off again. I recommend both to anyone who deals with nighttime anxiety. It does help, but in a world where evil seems to be intensifying at breakneck speed, it’s getting harder and harder to get a full night’s sleep.

A few nights ago when that familiar 3:00 am anxiety tapped me on the shoulder, I pushed it away with the opening words to the twenty-third Psalm. If I recite it slowly, that one usually has me asleep by the end. This time I stopped in the valley of the shadow of death—not on the words exactly but on the image. I imagined myself there like I never had before—in a deep valley with a black shadow, paralyzing my sense of direction—and it felt scary. It was as if God was saying, “This is what wakes you up, right? The darkness is what bothers you, but there’s no reason to be anxious. It can’t touch you; it’s just a shadow.” I must have recited this Psalm a thousand times through, but I’ve never before realized that the darkness I associate with that valley—the evil of this world—is only the shadow of death, not death itself. Just like an eclipse is impossible without the sun, the shadow of death only exists because of the brightness of God. And just like that eclipse will be gone before you know it, the darkness over this world will disappear when the Light behind it is revealed.

I was shocked the next morning to hear the tragic news that the founder of DonorSee, our main fundraising platform for the ministry in Malawi, was shot and killed in his home. He was only thirty-two years old and left behind a young wife and two babies. Even though I never met Gret in person, I’ve had many phone conversations with him. We’ve been with DonorSee since 2017, shortly after its launch, and I feel a strong sense of connection to the program. During the initial development of his website, I was vocal about what I wanted to see, and Gret was very responsive, making several changes I requested. DonorSee has been instrumental in feeding hundreds of children in our program, and we pray that Gret’s legacy will continue. It’s hard to make sense of such an abrupt and untimely death. I’m sure many people are seeking God’s peace today as we all wait for answers.

I lost my brother to a tragedy when I was in grade school. It took me many years to sleep through the night after that. I know there are no words to comfort a soul in that state of grief. I would not presume to speak any. But I do know that God can and will heal a broken heart, so I ask Him to do that for Gret’s family and for his friends. I pray that they will feel His presence as they walk through this valley and that they will feel the warmth of the Son that shines all around the shadow of death. What a sweet day of fellowship it will be when we’re reunited with those who have been swallowed up by death, when we discover that it was indeed just a shadow and that what is real is Jesus and His life and resurrection. May God bless this dear family and grant them peace and comfort until they can once again sleep through the night.