Peace in the Place That Hurts

Introduction: The Valley Moments

Family, friends, and loved ones—days like this are heavy. We gather to honor a life, but we also wrestle with our own valleys—those moments when life hits harder than we expected, when joy is replaced by silence, and hope feels distant.

All of us know what it feels like to stand in a valley. Maybe your valley was losing someone you love too soon. Maybe your valley is a breakup, a diagnosis, a job that drained you, or just the feeling that you’re fighting battles nobody sees.

David knew that feeling too. When he wrote Psalm 23, he wasn’t sitting on the throne in luxury—he was likely running from trouble, hiding in caves, or watching over sheep in lonely fields. He knew what it meant to face dark seasons. But the beauty of this Psalm isn’t that David avoided pain; it’s that he found peace inside it.

He says, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” Notice—he doesn’t say “I pitched my tent” or “I built a house” in the valley. He says, “I walk through.”

In other words, this place may hurt me, but it can’t hold me.

So today, as we remember our loved one, and as we think about our own valleys, I want to encourage you with three truths that David discovered in his: God’s Presence, God’s Peace, and God’s Promise.

They’re not just truths for the funeral; they’re truths for life—truths that’ll carry you when the music stops, when the calls slow down, and when grief turns quiet.