In this anointed and life-changing devotion, Dianna Hobbs speaks into life's chaos and confirms that even on the roughest, winding roads, your steps are ordered by the Lord and are leading you to victory!

Valley experiences, low points, temporary downturns are difficult, frustrating, and deceptive. Deceptive because they will fool you into thinking you’re stuck, defeated, doomed. Doomed you are not; destined you are. Destined for the great things God ordained before the foundations of the world. Though it may not look like it—and you may not feel like it—you already have victory in the valley.

Sometimes, memories from my youth burst forth from the recesses of my mind, uninvited yet unmistakable. Vivid scenes, fleeting images, and what can only be described as mental vignettes suddenly take shape in the forefront of my awareness.

In the aftermath of my 2019 brain trauma, my team of medical specialists and therapists prepared me for this very phenomenon. Some memories, they explained, lay dormant, somewhere deep in my brain, awaiting the day when healing would unlock their prison doors and they would emerge, reborn. The form of their return was a mystery—would they come as fragmented shards of recollection, hazy mirages, jumbled puzzles, or fully formed scenes, intact with every sensory detail?

Only time would tell, but of one thing I was certain: they would return, as surely as the rising sun.

And so, over a recent weekend, one such memory came flooding back, a tidal wave of recollection crashing against the shores of my mind. I was instantly transported back to my teenage years, standing behind the counter of my father's humble steak shop, nestled near the precarious intersection of East Ferry Street and Wohlers Avenue on Buffalo's troubled Eastside. This was no idyllic locale, but rather a hotbed of illicit activity, where the threat of violence hung heavy in the air.

Yet amidst the danger, I found unexpected commonalities with the young men who frequented our establishment, their lives a tumultuous dance with the law. They'd stumble in, ordering hoagies and subs and burgers, their eyes glassy, their movements unsteady. On weekends, our eatery became a refuge of sorts, a haven in the wee hours between night and dawn, when the clubs released their drunken, drug-addled patrons upon us.

While some maintained a veneer of politeness, many others shed their inhibitions. In their intoxicated state, they unleashed a barrage of verbal abuse, threats, and slurs aimed squarely at my older brother Joe-Joe and me as we toiled to fulfill their orders.

Our shop was chronically understaffed, and on those chaotic nights, we scrambled to keep up with the orders. With too few hands on deck, fulfillment slowed to a crawl, pushing both our patience and that of our customers to the breaking point. Yet, even as frustration simmered in my belly and insults scorched my ears, I clung to a mask of professionalism, my face a stoic calm, even as fear gnawed at my insides.

Confusing Transformations

These moments were confusing; for in the harsh light of day, when the haze of intoxication had lifted, these same men transformed before my very eyes. Their demeanor softened, their words took on an introspective tone, and we'd engage in conversations that probed the very depths of the human experience—discussions of life and God, of family and dreams, of the burdens they carried and the futures they envisioned.

I even had the privilege of sharing my faith with some, and a handful found their way to my father's church, a mere stone's throw from our restaurant.

But on one fateful night, the fragile veneer of safety shattered. A regular customer, his face twisted with drunken ire, stood outside our shop, bellowing threats to shoot my brother Joe-Joe. I will not deny the terror that gripped my heart, the cold dread that seeped into my very marrow. He was armed, and in his inebriated state, I knew he was fully capable of carrying out his menacing promises.

Our restaurant's expansive glass window, once a welcoming feature, now seemed laughably inadequate, a flimsy barrier against the hail of bullets I feared was to come. I prayed, oh how I prayed, that the man's finger would not tighten around the trigger, that God would stay his hand and spare my brother's life. Joe-Joe and I tried to comfort each other, not daring to make eye contact with the menacing figure outside our window, as the minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. It seemed an eternity before our tormentor finally lost interest and slunk away into the night, leaving us shaken but unscathed.

The aftermath brought only a hollow sense of relief, for we could not shake the feeling that our attacker still lurked in the shadows, his malevolence simmering just below the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. We locked up the shop in silence, our footsteps echoing through the deserted streets, my arm wrapped tightly around Joe-Joe's as I whispered prayers of protection into the stillness of the night.

By the grace of our merciful God, we made it home without incident, but the memory of that night would linger, haunting me for years to come. It was a stark reminder of the violence that had long plagued that block, the gunplay I had witnessed with my own eyes. I had seen fights erupt with little provocation, had watched in horror as one of our regulars drew a piece and opened fire on another, the sound of gunfire ringing out in the night air. Witnessing that shooting was my first brush with unadulterated evil, and it left me reeling, shaken to my core.

irony into destiny

I wondered, how could someone I had laughed with, shared stories with, served meal after meal to, metamorphosize into a vessel of such malevolence? It was a question for the ages, one that would stay with me long after I left the streets of that Eastside steak joint behind.

It's likely a question that lingered in David's mind as well. Imagine the turmoil in his heart when King Saul, once his benefactor, turned against him with such ferocity (1 Samuel 18:6-13). The king, consumed by envy and paranoia, began hurling physical and verbal spears, orchestrating manhunts, and pursuing David like a relentless predator stalking its prey (1 Samuel 19:1-15).

David, the loyal servant and gifted musician who had once soothed Saul's tormented soul with his melodies, found himself the target of the king's wrath. He, who had been honored and celebrated for his triumph over Israel's fiercest adversary, the giant Goliath, was now forced to flee for his life from the very man he had faithfully served. The young warrior the king once tried to shield with his armor now needed to be shielded from the king himself (1 Samuel 17:38).

What a cruel, ironic twist. But God, in His infinite wisdom, has a way of turning irony into destiny. Even in moments of danger and betrayal, inconvenience and uncertainty, disappointment and disillusionment, there is a larger divine plan at work.

In 1 Samuel 21, forced to abandon the comforts once provided by the king's favor, David became a desperate fugitive seeking to survive by any means necessary.

He fled to Nob, meaning "high place" in Hebrew, when he was in a low place. The nobleman and future king of Judah was humbled to the point of desecrating the Showbread, also known as Shewbread or Bread of Presence (Exodus 25:30), to satisfy his hunger—in defiance of Mosaic Law. On its face, David’s behavior seems incongruent with God's laws, as the Showbread, made with fine flour, was reserved for the priests alone. How could David, a lawbreaker, be accomplishing the work of the Lord?

Well, Jesus, the Son of David, illuminates our understanding in Matthew 12:3-8. He explains that David's law-breaking actions, carried out to feed himself and his companions when they were hungry, were not sinful, though not lawful for them to do. Jesus said, "I desire mercy, not sacrifice" (Matthew 12:7, Hosea 6:6), making the point that there was no need to condemn David.

God was using David, even in this chaotic mess of a situation, as an illustration. The future king became a living sermon, showcasing the Lord's compassion above the rigors of the law. This underscores an indisputable truth: though it's hard to see divinity at work in moments of apparent insanity, God is never without a strategy. It is He who orders our steps even when we feel as if we are stumbling blindly on unfamiliar terrain.

Today, God sent me to minister to someone whose life seemingly makes no sense, to confirm that as you tread life's roughest, winding roads, your steps are ordered by the Lord.

My assignment is to instruct you to stay the course, despite how confusing and dizzying it may be, knowing that God is leading you to your ultimate place of destiny. The path may be unconventional, rule-breaking, and seemingly contrary to what is right and most feasible. But God's hand is on your life. He is turning you into a living sermon, showcasing His unwavering compassion, unfailing mercy, and unshakeable plan.

Now let us dive a bit deeper into this divine narrative, shall we?

Divine Remembrance

With scant rations and weaponry, God led David to the cave of Adullam, where he found himself commanding an army of about 400 men (1 Samuel 22). These were not just any men; they were distressed, burdened by debt, and simmering with discontent.

How profound that God drew to David men who mirrored his own struggles. David, himself in distress, penniless, and dissatisfied, was called to lead amidst his turmoil. How paradoxical, yet how divinely orchestrated!

Adullam, one of the royal cities of the Canaanites, stood on the ancient Roman road in the valley of Elah—the very site of David's triumph over Goliath (1 Samuel 17:2). The Cave of Adullam lay just two miles south of where David achieved his greatest victory. What a poignant reminder of God's faithfulness in the midst of David's lowest moments.

Before arriving in this historic valley, David had visited Ahimelech, the priest in Nob. Aside from consuming the sacred bread, David, a warrior without weapons, requested a spear or sword for protection. The priest offered him the sword of Goliath the Philistine, wrapped in a cloth behind the ephod, a sacred priestly garment. David, recognizing the significance, declared, "There is none like it; give it to me" (1 Samuel 21:8-9).

How marvelous it is that God took David, at his lowest ebb, to places that evoked memories of his zenith, reminding him of past triumphs. Though David was on the run, famished, and virtually weaponless, God led him through a journey of divine remembrance.

Adullam lay in the valley where he had felled Goliath. In Nob, he reclaimed the very sword he had once wielded to sever the giant's head. This journey was God's way of affirming that even in the valley, David served the God of the mountaintop. Even amidst signs of defeat, he served the God of victory. Even when beset by insurmountable odds, he served the God who brings down giants. David needed no physical weapons, for as 2 Corinthians 10:4 declares, "the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds."

Oh, glory to God!

The Crux Of The Matter

Consider the strategic brilliance of our God. Adullam is mentioned in Joshua 12 as one of the kings conquered by Joshua and the Israelites after crossing the Jordan. The lands of these defeated monarchs, including Adullam, were allocated to the tribes of Israel (vv. 7-15). In Joshua 15, Adullam is specifically listed within the inheritance of the tribe of Judah (v. 35).

So then, David, a descendant of Judah, sought refuge in a land that already belonged to his tribe. David walked in hostile territory that was rightfully his, in a land overtaken by Israel, a land God declared belonged to them even when their enemies inhabited it. David held a claim to a throne already designated as his, despite Saul's current occupation of it. God had already stripped Saul of the throne due to his disobedience (1 Samuel 15).

Here's the crux of the matter: God strategically placed David in locations that reiterated his divine victory, even when appearances suggested defeat. God had granted him the territory, the throne, and the triumph while he was still embroiled in battle. And I bring you good news, my friend. Though circumstances may obscure it now, God is saying unequivocally that victory is already yours. Healing is already yours. Breakthrough is already yours. Increase is already yours. Deliverance is already yours. The territory is already yours.

I dare you to slip your hand up and cry out, “Victory is already mine!” Oh, yes, it is. Though the enemy may pursue you and you may feel besieged, the words God spoke over you remain unassailable. The promises God made to you remain immutable. The blessings God bestowed upon you remain irrevocable. The favor God granted you remains undeniable. The love God has for you remains unconditional. The plans God has for you remain unalterable. And the grace God extends toward you remains immeasurable.

You’ve got victory in the valley! It was David who said in Psalm 23:4 KJV—which is the sweetener I’m stirring into your cup of inspiration—“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.”

As you drink down the contents of your cup, be comforted by the presence of the Lord, confident in the promises of the Lord, and convinced of the faithfulness of the Lord to perform His word. Though you may be in the valley, you already have the victory.

Never forget that the God you serve visits caves, graves, and low places, raising His people from the ruins, the muck and mire, and the ashes for the glory of His name. And at the appointed season, oh my friend, He will lift you up, for “The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you” (Romans 8:11 NIV).

You’ve got resurrecting power on the inside! So, hold your head up high. Live in expectation. Walk like you already know you have the victory. And it is so, because God said it and secured it—and that settles it.

Now, let’s pray.

God, I’m going through a valley season. So many things seem out of order and don’t make sense. But thank You for reminding me to hold fast to Your word, even in my low place, with full assurance that everything You promise, You will perform. Every blessing You have in store, You will release. And every battle You fight, You have already won—therefore, I am more than a conqueror through You, according to Romans 8:37. So, I declare the victory and praise You for it now! In Jesus’ name, Amen.

If you desire prayer, please allow me, along with my intercessory prayer team, to stand in faith with you for breakthrough. We would be so honored. We have seen God work over and over again. There is power in agreement. Click here to request prayer now.

As always, thanks for reading and until next time... may today's cup of inspiration uplift, encourage, and empower you!