Discovering My Best Friend in a Foreign Country

In 2005, at 18 years old I bought my first car, a lovely silver 2000 Honda Civic. 

After the harrowing purchase process (because buying a car is *always* harrowing) I drove off the lot, hypersensitive to the sounds and controls of this new and expensive machine that was now under my care. 

Tense, I rode in silence down Main Street in Gainesville. But the silence was not so silent. 

Is that whining and roaring normal? 

I don't think so. 

I just bought this thing! 

Taking a deep breath, I turned my car right back around. Maybe I could still get a refund...? I had just signed a bunch of papers, though, saying that there could be no returns as soon as I drove off the lot. This car was AS IS. 

"Oh, hullo again," The car salesman greeted me with a grin. "How's your new vehicle?" 

"Not so good," I said. "The engine is really loud. I think there may be a problem," 

The man frowned. "Let's take a look," 

He got into the driver seat and turned on the car, revved the engine, and then got out, the car still running. "Ma'am, your car is completely normal,"

"But..."

"If the sound bothers you, maybe just turn on the radio," he said nonchalantly. 

"Radio?" I said, bewildered. I had not listened to the radio since I was 12. 

"Yeah, some music."

I sat behind the wheel, glancing at the radio controls.  I had only obtained my official driver's license a couple weeks earlier - driving in general overwhelmed me already. I was still getting the hang of how to turn on windshield wipers, now I needed to figure out the radio... while I drove?? 

I pulled away from the dealership and headed back down Main. 

That sound! How could the dealer say that was normal? I had driven in many, many cars in my life and none had ever sounded that loud. I felt like I was standing on a runway underneath an airplane taking off every time I pushed the gas pedal. 

Maybe it's just 'cuz this is the first time you're the driver and not just a passenger, a sneaky voice said. 

I drove for a couple miles, jittery. I kept looking at the radio. Finally, I reached over and fiddled with a few dials - static filled the car. I pressed the SEEK button and landed on a station. Music played through the speakers loud and clear. 

"... I will sing of your mercy 

that leads me through valleys of sorrow  

to rivers of joy..."

A moment of astonishment, wonder, and utter confusion hit me. Was this song talking about... God? On a public radio? I had never heard of such a thing. I had only ever heard pop music, NPR, and rock on the radio. 

I continued to listen to the beautiful, haunting song overlaid with piano and guitar, realizing that indeed, the singer was speaking to God, placing a trust in Him that through all the pain and sorrows of this world, he would "still look to the heavens / I will still seek Your face."

I began to sob. Yes, while I was driving down University Avenue in busy traffic. 

And then, the song was over.

I pulled over and turned off the radio, the music still playing through my head. The words had lanced straight through to my soul, bypassing my brain and even my heart. Krishna Himself seemed to have spoken to me. 

I wanted more. 

So began my exploration and deep love for Christian contemporary music. Year after year I discover some new song that speaks to my soul and deepens my love for God. I experience how these Christians are speaking of the same God that is enthroned upon my own heart: Krishna. He is the same. His beauty, love, and mercy is the same. 

I later discovered that the name of that song was "The Valley Song" by Jars of Clay. It holds a special, revered place in my heart as the very first song where I discovered God so profoundly in another tradition, like stumbling upon my best friend in the street in a foreign country. It's at the top of my curated playlist, but I haven't listened to it in years. 

Until today. 

For some reason, I was drawn to listen to this song while I did laundry. Then, when I went out for a walk in the cold twilight, I put the song on a repeat. For over half an hour, the tender, haunting, soulful lyrics wound their way around my soul, prompting me to glance up at the heavens, to seek Krishna's face in the moon and the stars. I entered a deep, reflective space where I realized that the sorrows of my heart shall never, never end as long as I am here in this world. I belong with my Lord. He is the only one who can lead me to rivers of joy.

I felt a tender desire in my heart that at my funeral this piece would be played. 

The memory of how I had discovered "The Valley Song" kept rising to my mind, and I kept smiling to myself. 

Then I realized - I was 18 years old. 

I am now almost 36 - that was literally half my lifetime ago. I shook my head in amazement. Life shall continue to wheel on and wheel on, moving faster and faster towards death. But I have a talisman here in my soul, a prayer to trust in my best friend through the valleys of sorrow. He'll lead me on.