The Valley of the Shadow of Death

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. PSALM 23:4

Beyond the Valley of Humiliation lies another valley, and Christian must go through it, because the way to the Celestial City runs through the middle of it. At its edge he meets two men hurrying back. They tell him it is as dark as pitch, full of hobgoblins, satyrs and dragons of the pit, with a continual howling, and that death spreads his wings over it. Christian answers that by all they have said he perceives it is his way to the desired haven. Be it thy way, they reply; we will not choose it for ours.

Bunyan is not describing physical death here; that comes at the river. The Valley of the Shadow of Death is a spiritual darkness — a season in which the believer walks in blackness, surrounded by terrors, unable to see the way or to feel God near. Bunyan had walked there for years. It is the most personal place in the whole dream.

A narrow path between two dangers

The path through the valley is exceeding narrow. On the right is a very deep ditch, into which the blind have led the blind in all ages. On the left is a dangerous quag, into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no bottom; King David once fell into it and would have been smothered had not He that is able plucked him out. In the dark, when Christian tries to shun the ditch, he is ready to tip into the mire, and when he avoids the mire he nearly falls into the ditch. Often, when he lifts his foot, he does not know where he will set it next.

Deliver me out of the mire, and let me not sink: let me be delivered from them that hate me, and out of the deep waters. PSALM 69:14

All-prayer

About the middle of the valley is the mouth of hell, hard by the wayside. Flames, smoke and sparks come out of it, with hideous noises, and they care nothing for Christian’s sword. So he puts up his sword and takes another weapon, called All-prayer, and cries, O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul. He goes on a great while, hearing doleful voices and rushings to and fro. Once he hears what he thinks is a company of fiends coming to meet him, stops, and half thinks to go back. Then he remembers how many dangers he has already come through, and resolves to go on, crying out that he will walk in the strength of the Lord God. The fiends give back and come no further.

Then called I upon the name of the LORD; O LORD, I beseech thee, deliver my soul. PSALM 116:4

There is deep wisdom in the change of weapons. Against Apollyon, who argued, Christian fought with the word. Against these terrors, which do not argue but simply overwhelm, argument is useless. There is nothing to answer, only something to endure. And for that the weapon is prayer — not eloquent prayer, but a cry. In the darkest seasons of the Christian life, the only prayer we may be able to pray is a single sentence, repeated for miles. It is enough.

The whispered blasphemies

Then comes a passage that Bunyan says he would not let slip, and it is one of the kindest things he ever wrote. When Christian comes over against the mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked ones gets behind him, steps up softly, and whispers many grievous blasphemies to him, which Christian verily thinks have come from his own mind. This troubles him more than anything he has met before — to think that he should now blaspheme Him whom he loves so much. If he could have helped it, he would not have done it; but he has not the discretion either to stop his ears or to know where the blasphemies came from.

Bunyan is describing, from the inside, something that torments many sincere Christians: intrusive, unwanted, horrifying thoughts against God. Grace Abounding shows that he suffered exactly this. For months, blasphemous thoughts poured into his mind against his will, and he concluded that they proved he was lost. Here, years later, he tells his readers what he wished someone had told him. Those thoughts did not come from Christian’s heart. They were whispered by an enemy behind him. He hated them, and that hatred was the proof that they were not his.

Now then it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me. ROMANS 7:17

If you are troubled by such thoughts, this passage is for you. Unwanted thoughts that horrify you are not the unpardonable sin. They are not evidence that you do not love God; your distress at them is evidence that you do. Do not argue with them, and do not examine them endlessly to see whether you consented. Turn from them to Christ, and if they persist, tell a wise pastor or a doctor, for this kind of torment is well known and can be helped.

A voice ahead in the dark

When Christian has travelled in this disconsolate condition a considerable time, he hears the voice of a man going before him, saying, Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. He is glad, for three reasons. Others who fear God are in this valley too. God is with them in the dark, though they cannot perceive it — and why not, then, with him? And he hopes to overtake them and have company.

Lo, he goeth by me, and I see him not: he passeth on also, but I perceive him not. JOB 9:11

The shadow of death turned to morning

By and by the day breaks, and Christian says, “He hath turned the shadow of death into the morning.” He looks back — not from any desire to return, but to see by daylight the hazards he came through in the dark. Now he sees the ditch, the quag, and how narrow the way was between them; he sees the hobgoblins and dragons, but all afar off.

Seek him that maketh the seven stars and Orion, and turneth the shadow of death into the morning. AMOS 5:8

Then Bunyan tells us something unexpected. The second part of the valley is far more dangerous than the first — full of snares, traps, gins and nets, pits and pitfalls. Had it been dark, Christian could not have survived it with a thousand souls. But just now the sun is rising, and he goes through by its light, saying with Job, His candle shineth on my head, and by his light I go through darkness.

At the end of the valley Christian passes the cave of two giants, Pope and Pagan, among the bones of martyred pilgrims. Pagan is long dead; Pope, grown old and stiff, sits grinning at pilgrims and biting his nails. This is the Protestant polemic of Bunyan’s century, written by a man who remembered the Marian burnings, and it should be read as such. Its lasting point is simpler: the persecutors of past ages, however terrible, could not stop the pilgrims, and their power passes away.

FOR REFLECTION AND ACTION

1. Have you walked through a Valley of the Shadow of Death — a season of spiritual darkness? What kept you on the narrow path?

2. If you are in the dark now, choose one short prayer, such as Psalm 116:4, and pray it whenever the terrors come.

3. If you are troubled by unwanted blasphemous or horrifying thoughts, remember that the whisperer is behind you. Tell one trusted person this week, and stop cross-examining yourself.

4. Be a voice ahead for someone else. Is there a believer you know in the dark to whom you could say plainly, I have been here too, and God was with me?

5. Look back at a past darkness by the light of day. What dangers do you now see that God kept you from?

A PRAYER

Lord, You have not promised to keep me out of the valley, but You have promised to be with me in it. When I cannot see where to put my foot, hold me on the narrow way.

When the terrors overwhelm me and I have no words, hear my one cry: O Lord, deliver my soul.

When the enemy whispers blasphemies in my ear, let me know they are not mine, and let me run to You rather than examine myself.

Let me hear the voices of Your people ahead of me in the dark, and in Your time turn my shadow of death into the morning. Amen.