I wonder how Ezekiel felt when God led him through the valley of bones. Confused, I think. I bet he wondered why God was leading him through a valley of bones. Ezekiel had surely felt the Lord’s presence, heard His voice, and seen Him move. Yet when God asked him the big important question: “Can these bones live?” he still answered with “O Sovereign Lord, You alone know.” Earlier this semester I thought that if I were Ezekiel I would have answered more positively, with an answer like “Of course, Lord! Anything is possible with You!” But now I think I understand why Ezekiel answered how he did.
It’s confusing going from the mountain to the valley. There is the obvious: the scenery is different. Rather than a perspective from up high, closer to God’s perspective, one is thrown right into the thick of it, whatever “it” is, and it is not quite as beautiful at first. Furthermore, it isn’t quite as easy to answer “yes” to questions about the miraculous in the face of thousands of dry bones that have been sitting the way they are for who knows how long. It’s much easier to wonder things like, “Why am I here?” and “What could I possibly do about all these bones?”
This year I have been on the mountaintops, both literally and figuratively. God took me to a higher place than I had ever been this year, where I could see a little more of His perspective. In that place I could hear His voice more clearly. In that place I could see His hand move without distraction. It was in that place He healed me, He moved me, and He changed me into a new person. I spent part of my summer in the Himalayan Mountains with 9 incredible people, literally on the mountaintops, encountering the Lord in new ways and falling so much deeper in love with Him. And then I came back. And God brought me to LA.
It has been a confusing experience, to say the least. Overwhelming, to put it lightly. I’ve asked the questions: “Why am I here?” and God said, “To be made complete.” “What could I possibly do about all these bones?” and God said, “Nothing.” There is a pressure when one comes down from the mountain to immediately put into practice what God showed you. There is a temptation to do something, when perhaps that is not what God intended by bringing you to the mountain. Rather, sometimes God brings us to the mountain to make us into a new person. And so when we come down to the valley, the task is not necessarily to do a whole lot; rather, the challenge is to be the person God formed on the mountain.
I was reminded of this after struggling intensely with the revelation that evil is big, and I am small. I shared with a few friends of mine that this semester I have come face to face with problems that I once naively thought I could stand against. I now see that on my own, I am much too small to even start. I have always been an optimist, so this news was hard for me to take. I felt restless and unsatisfied with God’s insistence that I am to do nothing this semester, save persevere. The night I shared this struggle I went to a small group with some friends where an entry from Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest was read; it was about coming down from the mountaintop.
I was reminded that night that we are not meant to live on the mountaintops. The mountaintop is where God brings us for a little while to experience Him and be changed into new people. But every lover of God that is brought to the mountaintop has had to go back down. Because the valley, though not as desirable, is where we live. It is where we move. The task when we go back down is not necessarily to do anything, because we know that in reality, we can’t do much. Ezekiel couldn’t possibly bring those bones to life, and I can’t bring this city to life. But this year in the mountains, God made me love Him more, and that love makes me cling to Him in this valley. In the mountains God healed me and my new wholeness gives me strength and confidence in this valley. In the mountains God gave me family to support me and cry with me in this valley. In the mountains I saw God’s powerful love move, and that knowledge gives me just enough hope to say, in the face of death itself, “O sovereign Lord, You alone know.”
In the end it is He alone that knows, and He alone that brings life. Ezekiel had the incredible opportunity at this point to stand back and watch the Lord move the way He said He would. “Then you will know that I the LORD have spoken, and I have done it, declares the LORD.” (Ezekiel 37:14b)
I know that this semester God is completing the work He started in me this year by teaching me how to live, move, and seek after Him in the valley. Sometimes I just want to run back to the mountaintops and stay there forever. But that is not where I belong, at least not now. Right now I am in the valley, confused, overwhelmed, and waiting for my God to answer “Yes” to the question I simply cannot answer with much assurance from the valley floor.
