He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress. I shall not be greatly shaken. (vs.2)
For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from Him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress. I shall not be shaken. ( vs. 5-6)
I was sitting in our community spa with my good friend, Mary, on Easter Sunday afternoon a couple of years ago when the water started moving around in a peculiar fashion, swirling over the boundaries of the spa. The earth shook. Rattled us. We left to go back inside my house to see the chandelier over the dining room table swaying in a rambunctious arc and our men chatting about the jolt we just had. We shake sometimes in California. We feel it under our feet -- the rolling of the ground. Or we hear it make a pop as the earth spews a little. And it always comes out of nowhere. A little surprise that wakes us up to the fact that the earth is doing some secret thing in its interior and our houses are in the way.
Other things shake us, too. Come out of the blue and make us quake. Like the day my father was arrested. Or when we discovered my mother had cancer. We have lost jobs. Lost money. Been confused by life on the whole.
I was in my closet praying. The time of testing for me was great. I was a young mother with two little girls ages two and four. Bill had moved to Atlanta ahead of us to start a new job. But that had been three months before and I still had not sold our house. On this particular day, I awoke covered in sweat. Texas nights are hot in July and our air conditioning gave up trying to make it cooler. I checked on my girls. They, too, were sopping wet, but still sleeping. That morning the air conditioning service man declared our compressor to be dead. By mid-afternoon, I had a raging bladder infection and needed medication. I took my babies out to eat at the local Dairy Queen on the way home and was propositioned there by a man who thought I was a single mom. Just an awful day. An awful three months alone. Coping. Wondering what God was doing with us. Why we hadn't sold our home. Were we doing the right thing. The girls were sleeping in the heat when I went to the closet to meet with God.
What I wanted to know, it turns out, was if He loved me. That isn't how it started out. I thought I wanted to know what He was doing. How He was going to sell the house and bring our family together. But when I was quiet before Him in that place of prayer, the question of my heart was: "Do you love me?" I felt alone and unseen. Things were broken and life out of whack. After I tearfully asked the question, I simply sat in His presence, rocking back and forth and crying. Then the most wonderful thing happened. I felt His love. It covered me, palpably, like a warm blanket or as though warm water was flowing over me. It came in waves, this feeling. Rapturous is the best word I can use to describe it. Like my Father met me there in the silence and stroked my hair and held me. I love my heavenly Father.
The next morning Bill called. "Guess what?" he asked.
I had no idea but he sounded out of breath. "What?"
"I just found out the entire company is moving from Atlanta to California! If we had sold our house and moved three months ago, we would be stuck in Atlanta trying to sell a new house here! Isn't that great news?" Bill was so excited.
I was, too. Of course our God had to make us wait. Because He knew our future. It wasn't about not being noticed. Exactly the opposite. Our house sold that week. No surprise there. We moved to Atlanta for six weeks, just long enough for us to introduce our neighbor to Jesus. We wouldn't have met her, either, had we moved prematurely.
It is His love we limit. Perhaps, as with me, out of our very real understanding that we don't deserve it. We can hope through the shaking because we are loved to pieces by our Father. Had I not run to Him for refuge that very steamy evening in Texas summer, stilled myself in His presence, I wouldn't have known the intimacy we shared. Our God is our fortress because His arms are safe, His knowledge complete and His will unimpeachable.
For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from Him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress. I shall not be shaken. ( vs. 5-6)
I was sitting in our community spa with my good friend, Mary, on Easter Sunday afternoon a couple of years ago when the water started moving around in a peculiar fashion, swirling over the boundaries of the spa. The earth shook. Rattled us. We left to go back inside my house to see the chandelier over the dining room table swaying in a rambunctious arc and our men chatting about the jolt we just had. We shake sometimes in California. We feel it under our feet -- the rolling of the ground. Or we hear it make a pop as the earth spews a little. And it always comes out of nowhere. A little surprise that wakes us up to the fact that the earth is doing some secret thing in its interior and our houses are in the way.
Other things shake us, too. Come out of the blue and make us quake. Like the day my father was arrested. Or when we discovered my mother had cancer. We have lost jobs. Lost money. Been confused by life on the whole.
I was in my closet praying. The time of testing for me was great. I was a young mother with two little girls ages two and four. Bill had moved to Atlanta ahead of us to start a new job. But that had been three months before and I still had not sold our house. On this particular day, I awoke covered in sweat. Texas nights are hot in July and our air conditioning gave up trying to make it cooler. I checked on my girls. They, too, were sopping wet, but still sleeping. That morning the air conditioning service man declared our compressor to be dead. By mid-afternoon, I had a raging bladder infection and needed medication. I took my babies out to eat at the local Dairy Queen on the way home and was propositioned there by a man who thought I was a single mom. Just an awful day. An awful three months alone. Coping. Wondering what God was doing with us. Why we hadn't sold our home. Were we doing the right thing. The girls were sleeping in the heat when I went to the closet to meet with God.
What I wanted to know, it turns out, was if He loved me. That isn't how it started out. I thought I wanted to know what He was doing. How He was going to sell the house and bring our family together. But when I was quiet before Him in that place of prayer, the question of my heart was: "Do you love me?" I felt alone and unseen. Things were broken and life out of whack. After I tearfully asked the question, I simply sat in His presence, rocking back and forth and crying. Then the most wonderful thing happened. I felt His love. It covered me, palpably, like a warm blanket or as though warm water was flowing over me. It came in waves, this feeling. Rapturous is the best word I can use to describe it. Like my Father met me there in the silence and stroked my hair and held me. I love my heavenly Father.
The next morning Bill called. "Guess what?" he asked.
I had no idea but he sounded out of breath. "What?"
"I just found out the entire company is moving from Atlanta to California! If we had sold our house and moved three months ago, we would be stuck in Atlanta trying to sell a new house here! Isn't that great news?" Bill was so excited.
I was, too. Of course our God had to make us wait. Because He knew our future. It wasn't about not being noticed. Exactly the opposite. Our house sold that week. No surprise there. We moved to Atlanta for six weeks, just long enough for us to introduce our neighbor to Jesus. We wouldn't have met her, either, had we moved prematurely.
It is His love we limit. Perhaps, as with me, out of our very real understanding that we don't deserve it. We can hope through the shaking because we are loved to pieces by our Father. Had I not run to Him for refuge that very steamy evening in Texas summer, stilled myself in His presence, I wouldn't have known the intimacy we shared. Our God is our fortress because His arms are safe, His knowledge complete and His will unimpeachable.
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