Originally written: August 4, 2015
Tonight at dinner, I am losing my patience with my children. Peyton’s snot is hanging on like a frozen waterfall, dripping from his face for the umpteenth time today—this time right on to his dinner plate. Could he PLEASE cover his nose??? I raise my voice again, as if he has any control over his sickness. My eye catches glimpse of a book on the Psalms sitting on my kitchen table, and I know what the Lord wants me to do. I confess that while the Holy Spirit is pressing me to pray, I do not want to. No, I don’t want to pray for patience. I don’t want to pray for what to read. I am like the very children that are testing my patience.
It takes me a moment, but I finally do: Lord, show me which Psalm to read…show me where to go.
I don’t give in immediately, but after the dishes, the settling down of the little people and attempting to work my way back to order (both on the inside and the out), I walk back by, eyeing the book on my table with a glare like the one my two year old gives her brothers right after they’ve gotten her in trouble. And the Lord answers: Psalm 91. So I pick it up and read from the Passion translation. The title (“Safe and Secure”) is immediately telling, and I think to myself how awesome our God truly is, that the Holy Spirit can tell me where to turn, where exactly my heart needs to be and what my ears need to hear.
And so I read, and there is a moment of calm—a deep breath—not only inside of me but also in the chaos of managing my children, my home, my thoughts, my everything. And isn’t that the problem? Me….trying to manage it all rather than asking for strength from the only one who can provide it.
So I go to my Bible next to read the NIV:
Psalm 91
1 Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
2 I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”
3 Surely he will save you
from the fowler’s snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
4 He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
5 You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
6 nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
7 A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
8 You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.
9 If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”
and you make the Most High your dwelling,
10 no harm will overtake you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
11 For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
12 they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
13 You will tread on the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.
14 “Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
15 He will call on me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
16 With long life I will satisfy him
and show him my salvation.”
I am most struck by the fact that He will cover us with “his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.”
I go back over this, praying it in my head while my children's giggles and clapping echo with joy in the quiet of the evening as they wait for their dad to return home from work. Cover me, oh Lord, with your feathers. Let me find refuge under your wings. And I think of the Armor of God, of what I have memorized in Ephesians. The flaming arrows come to mind, and I know that my impatience with my children, my horrible attitude toward my husband, my anger towards my diet—those are not of the Lord.
I told a friend today that I’ve been praying for so many things and people, but my MS and my lack of fruitfulness have not been on the top of my list (or on my list at all sometimes). Although it may sound crazy, I wonder in some ways if it is my own form of denial. I look back at the Psalm and read the final verses: “ ‘Because he loves me,’ says the Lord, ‘I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call on me, and I will answer him… .’ ”
And it hits me. Hello, Abbey…call on Him! He wants to be called upon! And I know where I need to go tonight: to my knees.
Thank you, Lord.