Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park

Darkness Isn’t Stone

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

--Psalm 23:4

Black Canyon of the Gunnison is not the canyon David had in mind when he wrote Psalm 23, but you could hardly blame him if it were. Black Canyon is narrow, steep, and deeply shadowed. The National Park Service describes it as having some of the steepest cliffs, oldest rock, and craggiest spires in North America. Some areas receive only a short window of sunlight each day. That is why the canyon appears so dark in its depths.

Imagine that.

A national park named for its shadows.

Shadows can be tricky things. They give the impression of substance without the reality of it. The darkness is real, but it has limits. It has shape, but no weight. A shadow can cling to your steps, but it cannot alter your path.

And it can’t force you to stop.

David understood that. He did not write, “Even, though I dwell in the valley of the shadow of death.” He wrote that he walks through it.

What a difference one word makes.

The shadowed valley is real. So are grief, fear, pain, and suffering. Scripture does not ask us to pretend otherwise. But a shadow is not the same thing as the object that casts it. It might make the next step harder to see. It might make the journey seem longer than it is. It may feel like the darkness is solid rock.

But it isn’t.

The journey does have an end, and you aren’t traveling alone.

The Shepherd does not always lead us around dark valleys. Sometimes He leads us through them--where shadows may fall across the road

But darkness isn’t stone.

Reflection: Where have you allowed a shadow to feel more permanent than it really is?

Prayer: Lord, when shadows fall across my path, help me remember that darkness is not stronger than You. Teach me to keep walking when the way feels dim, trusting that the valley is not forever and that I am not alone. Amen.