Valley of the Shadow
Illustration
Stories
Contents
“Valley of the Shadow” by John Sumwalt
“A Mighty Wind” by Frank Ramirez
Valley of the Shadow
by John Sumwalt
Psalm 112
“For the righteous will never be moved;
they will be remembered forever.
They are not afraid of evil tidings;
their hearts are firm, secure in the Lord.
Their hearts are steady, they will not be afraid;
in the end they will look in triumph on their foes.” (vv. 6-8)
There have been moments in my life when I hurt so much that the thought of dying was more than appealing. Dying would have been easier than living. My pain was not physical, though it took a physical as well as a psychological toll on my whole being. Post-traumatic stress is what my therapist called it, excruciating pain from sexual abuse in my youth that I had repressed for years.
My healing began when at the age of 43, I was finally able to speak the truth about the two trusted pastors who betrayed me during the process of mentoring me into pastoral ministry. I will never forget the wrenching moment when I stood in front of 400 clergy colleagues and told them what happened. Some were angry at me for sharing something that would reflect badly on the church. Others offered love and support.
Rev. Alice Richards, who I had grown up with in my home church, put her arms around me and said, “John, this should never have happened to you.” That word of comfort and grace sustains me even now 26 years later.
The days and sometimes weeks of aching darkness, mind and body numbing depression, that I endured in those dark days has passed. In time, I learned to recognize the triggers and now can usually avoid them.
Prayer, therapy, medication, gardening and other physical work, writing, even a mystical experience in which something like liquid love flowed into my body, have made that time in my life feel far away, much like I imagine a woman's memory of labor pains fade over time. Still, every once in a while, a scene in a movie, the wrong kind of touch, certain sounds and smells, a photograph from the past, any reminder of being abused, will, like the proverbial hand from the grave, pull me back into the pain.
I never contemplated suicide. I loved my family too much and I loved life too much to give it up easily. I do not fault those who, overwhelmed by pain and despair, have made the decision to cross themselves over to the other side. I have officiated at their funerals and cried with their loved ones.
It helps a little that I have looked into the abyss. It helps that I know Christ is with them in that other dimension as he has always been here with me.
It helps that I understand my suffering as a strange kind of blessing. Like the Apostle Paul’s “thorn in the flesh,” my periodic afflictions remind me that God’s “grace is sufficient,” and makes it possible for me to walk with those who are treading a similar path.
I look for words of assurance to give them, but there are no adequate words. My presence in body and spirit is the best I have to give — and sometimes a bit of the story of my own journey through the valley of the shadow.
* * *
A Mighty Wind
by Frank Ramirez
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it (Hebrews 13:2)
Nowadays we’re used to fairly accurate tornado warnings, thanks to Doppler radar, weather satellites, 24-hour weather coverage, and cell phones that keep us connected, at least until the batteries run out. Even so, tornadoes can descend like a bolt from the blue, wreaking great havoc and catching populations by surprise.
In the days before all this, tornadoes could really swoop out of nowhere. One of the worst tornado events in the history of the United States swept across the state of Indiana and the southern portions of Michigan on April 10-12, 1965, when satellite technology was in its infancy, as were most of the advances in weather forecasting and reporting we enjoy today. Over the space of forty hours, there were 55 confirmed tornadoes. 266 lives were lost, 663 injuries sustained, and $1.2 billion in damages incurred, which would equal over ten billion dollars today.
Some of the worst damage took place in the Dunlap area south of Elkhart, Indiana. Some experts unofficially assigned the rare category of F5 to an infamous double funnel. By that time no warning was possible as earlier tornadoes resulted in loss of power, rendering radio and television largely useless. Twenty-eight people in two trailer parks were killed and another six died at a truck stop nearby.
Twenty-five years after the catastrophic event, the dust was still settling when I took up a pastorate near ground zero in Dunlap. Church members at the Elkhart Valley Church of the Brethren still remembered watching the double funnel barrel down on them when the formation hit a small hill — really a hillock — and change direction, leveling instead the Sunnyside Mennonite Church a couple miles away. As I visited church members in their homes the first question I would ask was, “What happened to you that Palm Sunday twenty-five years ago?”
Some lost everything, their homes leveled, their property destroyed. Others escaped unscathed but helped in the relief efforts. One woman said that all her infant and childhood photographs were destroyed except for one photo which was found two miles away jammed edgewise into a tree. Another woman could not forget the fact they’d bought a dozen donuts that morning and never got to eat a single one! That continued to bother her more than the loss of her home.
But the most interesting story was told by a fellow who worked for the power company. Power was out. Power lines hung dangerously, threatening anyone who mishandled them with instant death. In the wake of the devastation workers were sent out individually instead of teams. “Bob” told me how frightened he was as he began work the day after the damage. He hardly knew where to begin. Then, out of nowhere, a man walked up, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, and asked Bob if he would like someone to accompany him while he worked. Now in that community people felt like they knew everyone, but Bob didn’t recognize the man at all. Nevertheless, Bob said yes to his offer. The person never introduced himself, nor did he explain what he was doing out in the apocalyptic landscape. He just accompanied Bob as he worked, standing next to him the whole time.
Feeling more confident, Bob set out to repair downed lines, restoring power where he could, and removing dangerously exposed wires. The man stood next to him the whole while.
Finally, when the day ended and it was too dark to work anymore, Bob turned to thank the man, only to discover he had just disappeared. There was no trace of him anywhere, nor did he ever run into him again.
Maybe there was a perfectly natural explanation for what the man was doing, but Bob was instantly convinced he’d been accompanied by an angel. He believed that with a confidence that was convincing.
The author of Hebrews is no doubt referring to the story of Abraham, Sarah, and the three strangers who stepped out of the desert wastes and who, after having received hospitality from our two spiritual forebears, revealed they were on a divine mission to inform the two they would be parents soon. Regardless, although I can’t say I know what exactly it is angels are out doing at any particular moment, I would certainly put this story in the category of entertaining angels without knowing it!br />
*****************************************
StoryShare, August 28, 2022 issue.
Copyright 2022 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
“Valley of the Shadow” by John Sumwalt
“A Mighty Wind” by Frank Ramirez
Valley of the Shadow
by John Sumwalt
Psalm 112
“For the righteous will never be moved;
they will be remembered forever.
They are not afraid of evil tidings;
their hearts are firm, secure in the Lord.
Their hearts are steady, they will not be afraid;
in the end they will look in triumph on their foes.” (vv. 6-8)
There have been moments in my life when I hurt so much that the thought of dying was more than appealing. Dying would have been easier than living. My pain was not physical, though it took a physical as well as a psychological toll on my whole being. Post-traumatic stress is what my therapist called it, excruciating pain from sexual abuse in my youth that I had repressed for years.
My healing began when at the age of 43, I was finally able to speak the truth about the two trusted pastors who betrayed me during the process of mentoring me into pastoral ministry. I will never forget the wrenching moment when I stood in front of 400 clergy colleagues and told them what happened. Some were angry at me for sharing something that would reflect badly on the church. Others offered love and support.
Rev. Alice Richards, who I had grown up with in my home church, put her arms around me and said, “John, this should never have happened to you.” That word of comfort and grace sustains me even now 26 years later.
The days and sometimes weeks of aching darkness, mind and body numbing depression, that I endured in those dark days has passed. In time, I learned to recognize the triggers and now can usually avoid them.
Prayer, therapy, medication, gardening and other physical work, writing, even a mystical experience in which something like liquid love flowed into my body, have made that time in my life feel far away, much like I imagine a woman's memory of labor pains fade over time. Still, every once in a while, a scene in a movie, the wrong kind of touch, certain sounds and smells, a photograph from the past, any reminder of being abused, will, like the proverbial hand from the grave, pull me back into the pain.
I never contemplated suicide. I loved my family too much and I loved life too much to give it up easily. I do not fault those who, overwhelmed by pain and despair, have made the decision to cross themselves over to the other side. I have officiated at their funerals and cried with their loved ones.
It helps a little that I have looked into the abyss. It helps that I know Christ is with them in that other dimension as he has always been here with me.
It helps that I understand my suffering as a strange kind of blessing. Like the Apostle Paul’s “thorn in the flesh,” my periodic afflictions remind me that God’s “grace is sufficient,” and makes it possible for me to walk with those who are treading a similar path.
I look for words of assurance to give them, but there are no adequate words. My presence in body and spirit is the best I have to give — and sometimes a bit of the story of my own journey through the valley of the shadow.
* * *
A Mighty Wind
by Frank Ramirez
Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16
Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it (Hebrews 13:2)
Nowadays we’re used to fairly accurate tornado warnings, thanks to Doppler radar, weather satellites, 24-hour weather coverage, and cell phones that keep us connected, at least until the batteries run out. Even so, tornadoes can descend like a bolt from the blue, wreaking great havoc and catching populations by surprise.
In the days before all this, tornadoes could really swoop out of nowhere. One of the worst tornado events in the history of the United States swept across the state of Indiana and the southern portions of Michigan on April 10-12, 1965, when satellite technology was in its infancy, as were most of the advances in weather forecasting and reporting we enjoy today. Over the space of forty hours, there were 55 confirmed tornadoes. 266 lives were lost, 663 injuries sustained, and $1.2 billion in damages incurred, which would equal over ten billion dollars today.
Some of the worst damage took place in the Dunlap area south of Elkhart, Indiana. Some experts unofficially assigned the rare category of F5 to an infamous double funnel. By that time no warning was possible as earlier tornadoes resulted in loss of power, rendering radio and television largely useless. Twenty-eight people in two trailer parks were killed and another six died at a truck stop nearby.
Twenty-five years after the catastrophic event, the dust was still settling when I took up a pastorate near ground zero in Dunlap. Church members at the Elkhart Valley Church of the Brethren still remembered watching the double funnel barrel down on them when the formation hit a small hill — really a hillock — and change direction, leveling instead the Sunnyside Mennonite Church a couple miles away. As I visited church members in their homes the first question I would ask was, “What happened to you that Palm Sunday twenty-five years ago?”
Some lost everything, their homes leveled, their property destroyed. Others escaped unscathed but helped in the relief efforts. One woman said that all her infant and childhood photographs were destroyed except for one photo which was found two miles away jammed edgewise into a tree. Another woman could not forget the fact they’d bought a dozen donuts that morning and never got to eat a single one! That continued to bother her more than the loss of her home.
But the most interesting story was told by a fellow who worked for the power company. Power was out. Power lines hung dangerously, threatening anyone who mishandled them with instant death. In the wake of the devastation workers were sent out individually instead of teams. “Bob” told me how frightened he was as he began work the day after the damage. He hardly knew where to begin. Then, out of nowhere, a man walked up, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, and asked Bob if he would like someone to accompany him while he worked. Now in that community people felt like they knew everyone, but Bob didn’t recognize the man at all. Nevertheless, Bob said yes to his offer. The person never introduced himself, nor did he explain what he was doing out in the apocalyptic landscape. He just accompanied Bob as he worked, standing next to him the whole time.
Feeling more confident, Bob set out to repair downed lines, restoring power where he could, and removing dangerously exposed wires. The man stood next to him the whole while.
Finally, when the day ended and it was too dark to work anymore, Bob turned to thank the man, only to discover he had just disappeared. There was no trace of him anywhere, nor did he ever run into him again.
Maybe there was a perfectly natural explanation for what the man was doing, but Bob was instantly convinced he’d been accompanied by an angel. He believed that with a confidence that was convincing.
The author of Hebrews is no doubt referring to the story of Abraham, Sarah, and the three strangers who stepped out of the desert wastes and who, after having received hospitality from our two spiritual forebears, revealed they were on a divine mission to inform the two they would be parents soon. Regardless, although I can’t say I know what exactly it is angels are out doing at any particular moment, I would certainly put this story in the category of entertaining angels without knowing it!br />
*****************************************
StoryShare, August 28, 2022 issue.
Copyright 2022 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
