“He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.” Ps. 91:1
It was a sunny day as we drove down the road approaching my favorite place in the whole world. “There it is! Do you see it, Emily? It’s our secret place!” My Grandmother cried. It was a magnificent structure. To any passer by, it was simply a cement bridge sheltered in barbed wire, expanding the highway, but to me it was an endless source of daydreams and delight. To a little girl of 5, this place was pure magic. I had only to pass by and the mere vision would conjure up all kinds of excitement to my childhood mind. This place was a castle, and I was queen. My grandmother the benevolent fairy godmother that bestowed me with such an enchanted gift. When time alloted, my ever patient Grandfather, would pull over and allow us to walk across the secret place. It was never long enough nor often enough for my young self, but in the times of absence, I would dream of it, and all of the adventures waiting to be had.
Grown up realities have long since replaced childhood dreams, but now, He calls to me, beckoning me to enter into His secret place. Not just to enter, but to DWELL in this place. Simple adoration of this humble King, is my entrance ticket, and once here, His love bids me stay. I am transformed, washed white by the Lamb. His sacrifice, has enabled me to discover His secret place. I am sheltered here under a mighty fortress of a shadow, it is He. He desires me to abide, not for mere moments, but a lifetime, treasured and adored. I am an orphan made daughter, and He is the One Who would have me call Him Father.
It is our place, He and I, yet He offers it to all who call. It is a shelter from the whispering fears and anxieties that would take aim upon my heart. Those old enemies that long have enslaved me, and would call me their own, have no power here. As long as I would desire, I am free to stay. He shelters me. He protects me. He gives me rest. I love this place, but oh, how I love this King. This King that would call me daughter. This King that would give His very life to ransom me.
Next week, we will be having to prep Lydia once again to go under anesethia. Tonight, I am struggling with that worry. It threatens to overtake me, drowning me in it’s current. Underneath it all, there is a still, small voice, that I recognize. He is calling me, begging me to come to the secret place. Offering me to dwell with Him. It is an offer I cannot refuse, and so I enter in. My praise for Him, replaces my fears. His love floods my heart, leaving room for nothing else.