This verse has meant a great deal to me through the years.
In our late twenties, with three little daughters at home,
we felt God tell us to leave the wonderful church where we had been youth pastors for five years.
They loved us and we loved them.
They took good care of us.
There was no earthly reason to go, yet we felt it was time.
So, we resigned and packed up and moved.
But for four months no other doors opened for us.
We ended up having to stay with family.
We wondered if we had made the biggest mistake of our lives.
That's the first time I remember really noticing this verse.
The valley of Baca is also known as the valley of weeping.
When you walk through the valley of weeping,
you dig a well and wait expectantly for God to send rain.
I still have the little journal from those months in the valley.
We dug and we waited.
We saw God send the rain of miraculous provision.
Looking back, those four months are full of precious memories of God's blessings raining down on us.
A door to pastor a church of our own eventually opened.
But, there have been other valleys since that time.
Deeper valleys, longer valleys, more painful valleys.
Yet, I never read this verse without remembering the first time it became real to me.
The lessons I learned then have sustained me time and again.