Safe at Home

America has always been a country populated by refugees. "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free; the wretched refuse of your teeming shore." Throngs of people have landed at Ellis Island seeking safety from civil war, coming from famine and plague to a land where they could raise their children in health and prosperity. Some were the first in their families to ever stray outside their villages. Some had suffered great loss, and were the only remaining survivors. Some lost children en route. Some have become America's greatest leaders and innovators. Many refused to believe they were safe until they saw for themselves the outline of Lady Liberty rising in the distance.

Some friends and I recently studied Psalm 91. The first two verses alone make for an amazing "soundbite", perfect for refrigerator magnets and Bible covers all over the world. A place of hiding and refuge, kept by the Most High God Himself. Doesn't it just make you wanna curl up in peaceful rest? War raging about outside your door, and yet, you are safe and sound, protected from turmoil. Burglars and thugs sneaking around in the middle of the night, and your home, your family remain untouched, inside the fortress of Almighty God. A pandemic that does not touch anyone in your circle. But, what I've discovered is this psalm is not a promise for us to claim when trouble befalls us; it does not guarantee our safety, nor is it without exclusion.

Those who sought refuge here in America, had to be willing to forsake the things of their past, to come to this place and dwell.  Many may have hoped to return to their homeland once peace was restored or the plague eradicated, but most knew this land of refuge would become their home as long as they were in danger outside its borders. They would find jobs, secure housing, start families, join clubs and churches, make new memories, even adopt our language and customs. This place would be more than a temporary bomb shelter, a place to hide when trouble touched them; it would become a way of life for them, a home. And though they sought asylum in America, it did not stop the damage the conflict in their country had caused or the pain they'd experienced. Some still bore scars. Some left fresh graves of those they loved far behind. The safety they sought did not alter or erase the memories of the peril they'd known before they ever saw America's golden shore. It did nothing to change the past, only the future.

Once here, they struggled to adapt and toiled to survive. They were outsiders. Everything about life in their new land was foreign to them. Suspicious nationals did not exactly roll out the red carpet for them. Jobs were scarce. Even those who worked tirelessly to become citizens were betrayed by the accent and skin tone of their native shores. Their pledge of loyalty and their deep-seated desire to "be" American was tested time and time again. Integration and assimilation, while necessary, was not easy.

This is what dwelling "in the secret place of the Most High" is about. This is what it means to "abide" in His shadow. It is a permanent arrangement, a conscious choice in lifestyle, a daily state of being, a new way -- God's way -- of doing things. It is not some basement in which to simply weather a storm, crawling out toward daylight when roaring winds have passed. Likewise, it is not a deluded ambition for the perfect life. No one dreams it will erase trouble from their world or obliterate the brokenness that comes from a past lived outside the parameters and protection of Almighty God. And nothing about this psalm or its promises is unconditional. Like a refugee who cannot benefit from the safety and shelter of a new land unless they actually dwell there, neither can the persecuted soul of Psalm 91 know the benefits of the Father's rest unless he dwells under His shadow. The proviso is dwelling, abiding -- even when life appears to be quiet and under control.

As I read verses 14-15, I wondered just how many times I had caused things to be difficult simply because I had not been proactive in my prayers. How many struggles could have been avoided if I'd simply asked God for His help, even when I didn't think I needed it? If dwelling and resting are activities for everyday, all day, then prayer must be part of that. Do you go for days without speaking to those who share your home? Do relationships whither, or bloom when we go for long periods of silence? Prayer is the means by which we maintain contact and stoke the fires of relationship with the One in whom we dwell. If I begin my day absent of prayer, I have not oiled or activated my armor. I have taken for granted this will be a "typical day," completely manageable through my own efforts. But, apart from Christ we can do nothing. He sustains us. He is our hope and breath. Without daily, constant communion with Him, I am assuming the enemy will not attack. That is a lie, and Satan loves for us to believe it! Satan is a roaring, blood-thirsty lion, seeking whom he may devour; he can't help but attack! And we are foolish to believe "ordinary" is safe. Many times we are lulled into complacency just before tragedy strikes. Prayer is required to prevent or withstand tragedy as God intends. Throughout history, God has shown what He will do when those who dwell with Him, who rest in Him, who trust Him pray. How will we know if we never ask?

The safety and refuge of new shores are of no benefit to one who refuses to leave behind the uncertainty and peril of old lands. Seek the shadow of the Almighty and make your home with Him today.