When I was young, one of the early movies I saw was called Pollyanna which was released in 1960 by Disney. I mentioned on Easter that I used to watch the Wonderful World of Disney with my family on Sunday night, and it was there that I saw the movie.
For those who have never actually seen the movie, it was a story of a daughter of a missionary, whose father taught her to see the silver lining in everything. The idea of “The Glad Game” her father taught her became something people tried to do.
It became so embedded in culture that her name has become synonymous with ignoring bad things, rather than the focus which is to find good in things.
I see that a lot in pastors – and preaching and believers and believing. We tend to be a diverse lot – some of us looking at the bad things to criticize people for, and others of us looking at the good side of things. Norman Vincent Peale and Robert Schuller are known for extolling the power of positive thinking. Think Pollyanna here.
There is, at heart, nothing wrong with positive thinking. The only problem I see is that it leads to the idea of a prosperity gospel – that if you are good enough God will reward you. Of course, at the end of the movie, after falling from a window, Pollyanna does regain her trust in good things and the use of her legs, but it only happens through a lot of work.
Why does it matter? If we want to be positive, isn’t that good enough? I would say no. You see, the problem is that bad things happen, like Pollyanna falling and becoming paralyzed. And we often need to hear words that speak, not to the joyful world, but to the hurting world. These words are embedded in the two passages we have as our passages today.
Current statistics show, about 25 percent of us are diagnosed with struggling with situational, seasonal, or chronic depression. And that doesn't include those who struggle undiagnosed. Depression is real - I know, I have struggled with it my entire life.
Today there are a lot of anxious and painfully sad people in our society and in our church, daily walking through what seems to be a long valley of shadows. Or a dark valley as our version translate it. To those walking in those dark valleys, telling them to remain positive does not help.
Many years ago, I was going through a tough time, and struggling with situational depression. Something bad had happened, and I needed to talk to a trusted friend about my feelings. After our discussion, she told me that I needed to change my attitude and pray more and Jesus would take care of it. She, unknowingly, and not in an unkind way, blamed me for my depression, by suggesting that somehow I could fix it if I tried hard enough at keeping a positive attitude and “trusting Jesus” more.
That contrasts sharply with a sermon I heard at Broadway a couple of years ago on the 23rd Psalm. It wasn’t Rob, but rather a chaplain from Whiteman AFB who was speaking, and I am sure it was one he kept in his pocket and had repeated often.
He said a lot, and it was good, but one thing he said rang a bell in this context. He pointed out that you can’t have shadows without light. That when we see shadows, we need to understand that the point isn’t the shadows it is the light in which we see them, and if we turn around, we can see the source of that light.
So, when we walk through the valley of the shadow, or the dark valley, we know the shadow and the darkness because we already know the light.
If we pretend the shadows aren’t there, we can’t find our way to the light. Feeling blue, feeling sad, all of our feelings of worthlessness or sinfulness are all shadows.
The psalm starts in a very good place. It speaks of a shepherd, and it speaks of calm waters and green pastures, and then it transitions into dark valleys. Our lives contain both. Usually we take a quick dip into the valley then talk about all of the good stuff, the table and the oil as being on the other side.
But what if David wasn’t thinking that way when he wrote the Psalm?
What if the rest of the Psalm happened, not in the valley of green pastures and still waters, but in the valley of shadow and darkness? What if the banquet, the oil, are there in the darkest of valleys instead of being back out on the other side in the light.
Let’s turn the Psalm sideways today – and think about it differently.
Looking closely at the line after the dark valley, we see God preparing a table – not in light, but in the very presence of our enemy. That he anoints our heads with healing oil. You anoint with oil, not when someone is whole, but when they are sick.
The shepherd not only guides us through the darkness, but provides us within the darkness.
In a parallel with the good times, God provides in the dark times with an even deeper love. Instead of green pastures and still waters, he gives a banquet and healing oil.
In “The Hiding Place,” Corrie Ten Boom spoke about the Bible Studies they had at Ravensbrook, and how in the darkness of that place the light shone even brighter.
In the shadow of darkness, of despair, God is still there, and God's light shines bright. Best of all, God is still there to nourish you in that place, to nourish US in that place. We are not alone.
From the green pastures to the dark valleys, the shepherd is there – leading the psalmist to be able to proclaim, that he will dwell in the house of the Lord his whole life through, whether it is in the green pastures of the sunlit valleys.
So why did I pair this verse with the First John passage? Actually, it was a single verse that caught my attention.
“19 And by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before him 20 whenever our hearts condemn us, for God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. “
Besides depression, one of the things that injure so many in the church is the feeling that they aren’t good enough, especially that they aren’t good enough to belong. That we can never be good enough. That somehow Christianity isn’t about a relationship with God, it is about rules, and some are in and some are out.
In fact, this passage has an awesome theme of how we should act. But like the 23rd Psalm, it has something in the very middle that speaks of the dark valley that many are in. It speaks of our own hearts condemning us – but that God is greater than our hearts.
There in the dark feeling of unworthiness, we find, not the shadow we expect of condemnation, but that of hope. Whenever our hearts condemn us, God is not, because, as the passage says, God knows everything.
God not only knows the bad things you have done, the bad thoughts you have had, but also why it happened.
You belong to God. And because he is your shepherd, you can do the good things, but when bad things happen to you, or when you can’t, he is still your shepherd.
You don’t just belong to God, you belong here. Broken, lonely, haunted, rejoicing, whoever you are, whatever you believe, this is the place where you can find healing and life. This is a place where you can safely bring your fears and your doubts.
In AA, they have a famous endtng. As they gather in the circle, usually praying part of the Serenity prayer, they end with this: Take what you can, and leave the rest – and keep coming back.
