“And in the darkness of this second and far more desolating interruption, he seems to have had another dream in which a voice said to him, ‘You have mistaken the meaning of vision. Return to your town.’ And Francis trailed back in his sickness to Assisi, a very dismal and disappointed and perhaps even derided figure, with nothing to do but wait for what should happen next. It was his first descent into a dark ravine that is called the valley of humiliation, which seemed to him very rocky and desolate, but in which he was afterwards to find many flowers.”—G. K. Chesterton, St. Francis of Assisi
It was only an interruption, not permanent despair, a despondency in waiting and absent sign for guidance as to where and how next to move. It was an isolation, aridity of faith, when God provides no sign but leaves souls to be tested and tried to their own discernments, action to decide, and will for one’s self.
We are mistaken in our vision, but we cannot deny our dream. It is in understanding, not vision, where we err.
Alone, we depart in self-exile to sit again in examen of vision and quiet voice on wind should It will to speak to us again.
The Valley of Humiliation, an ominous place and name until we consider and embrace that God made it as well as all the rest in world and life; and while walls are steep and fall pronounced, the path is navigable so long as we take our time. The trail is not straight line, nor is life lived in guidance and affection from inspirations, but a winding series of switchbacks where in travel it seems little progress is made until looking back toward beginning place we see, undoubtedly, movement has been made.
Maybe that’s the point: to slow down, watch where we step, be conscious of where and to what we hold. Is what we hold to grounded and safe or will it fail us when tested with our burden and weight when depended on and needed most?
Navigating, every step becomes conscious act of will and awareness; and in refocusing of our consciousness, awareness to world around, we discern amongst our way that there are blessings, too, in shadows.
Flowers of the half-light—violets and bluebells that break in spring then laurel and rhododendron of later summer’s show—wonders waiting in contemplations of the half-light.
Then, when we reach rock bottom, having nowhere further to fall, we find it—a purity and clarity in wash of mountain stream that flows eternal from well of giving heart with source as mountain’s soul.
In and beside its waters, we see the valley for what it is: a blessing, as is every moment and place God leads and leaves us to be—lost then found and a lesson learned—along life’s travel and journey whereby in loss of worldly self, humiliation of prides and vanities, we discover again our truer selves, the one staring back from mirror of river’s face.
Changed eyes, we thank God for His leading us into: for descent then our rise, for treasures held in half-light contemplations, for rock bottom reached and purity found—baptismal clean—restoring in us truer spirit, soul, and sight.
*****
I know this valley. I’ve been there many times. I’ll return to it again: as long and as often as is necessary to finally live—for good—the lesson of its teaching.