By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer

Reading one morning from a different version of the Bible, I was caught by new wording of a familiar verse:

You are my refuge and my shield.
Your word is my source of hope.
Psalm 119:114

In my childhood, I had learned the first line as, “You are my hiding place.” Those words were put to music years ago, and Corrie ten Boom’s riveting book from 1971 about faith and forgiveness bears the title, The Hiding Place.

However, the new phrasing sent the meaning deeper into my understanding.

“My refuge and my shield” stirred visions of people over the last twelve months taking refuge in their homes. I thought of the cloth masks worn as shields by thousands, not worn by other thousands.

When we get right down to the bottom layer of life, nothing and no one safeguards us like our Lord. He is our hiding place of refuge. He is our safe place of security and the One who shields us from the viruses of fear, distress, and worry.

And His word, indeed, is our source of hope.

Peace is my most precious commodity, and society doesn’t provide it. I may take precautions against temporary threats, but what of an eternity of days?

The Lord is a refuge to which I can run. His words calm me and offer comfort. Like a child hiding in a tree fort, I feel safe and concealed in Him. Yet unlike the tree fort, He withstands stormy winds and brutal invasions. No one can sneak up on Him. No one catches Him by surprise.

If you are looking for peace these days, give God a try. He is a refuge and shield.

~

The cotton rope fell from Ella’s hand and she backed away, heart pounding. How had this cowboy stirred such fantasy? Made her long to ride again. To lift her face to the wind and fly on the back of a trustworthy mount.

Tears pricked like nettle and she turned toward the fence. Her soul ached as much as her leg, and the struggle to hide both wounds was nearly more than she could manage. She was trapped, surrounded by the beauty of this vast land of forest and ridge and unearthly blue sky—imprisoned by her failure to cope with her loss.

“Nice work.” The snap clicked and Cale came up beside her, coiling the lead as the mare’s hooves beat a muffled retreat. “What other secrets are you hiding beneath that shiny bobbed hair?” ~A Change of Scenery

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