Sunday, August 19, 2012
But at this stage of life, where is home?
Not where I grew up, certainly. Too much water under the bridge for that.
Not even where I currently park my hat--this place is complicated, expects too much.
I want to go where I am protected, where I am safe, where I am not in charge.
And I only know of one place.
The Lord is my Rock, my fortress and deliverer. My God is my rock in whom I take refuge...He is my stronghold, my refuge and my Savior--from violent men You save me.--2 Samuel 22:2-3
Funny thing about my home, though.
I have to go there.
The refuge does not come to me where I am.
If I want its safety and protection, I have to surround myself with its parapets and gates, with its unyielding stone and battlements. They will not form themselves around me.
God's strength is only available to someone willing to uproot from her normal dwelling place and travel what sometimes seems like a very long way.
And the trip is sometimes hard.
But protection and safety wait at the end.
Where all things turn out right. Where someone bigger than me is in charge.