Search Results for: PSALM 911

I remember clinging to Psalm 91 while our family lived in China back in 1995 as if it was oxygen giving me my next breath. Our youngest daughter Kelly, just three at the time, battled many strange illnesses while we lived in Beijing, and I was often consumed with fear for her safety. I read and prayed Psalm 91 over her so often that I ended up memorizing it without even trying. Years later we learned that Kelly’s in-laws prayed the same psalm over our son-in-law Cal when he was a newborn with viral meningitis. What a gift to know that Kelly’s future husband was being prayed over with the same promises from Psalm 91 when he was just a baby. I see Psalm 91:1 as our 911 promise of rescue: “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High, will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” Some call Psalm 91 the soldier’s song, as many have prayed it over their loved ones in the armed forces when they’re deployed. Others see it as a warfare psalm, teaching us how to fight the good fight against the enemy of our souls. Though no author is mentioned in the Hebrew text of this psalm, Jewish tradition ascribes it to Moses as he wrote Psalm 90, while others say David wrote it—a mighty warrior himself.   Regardless of who wrote it, I know it was inspired by our Most High, Almighty God. It’s a psalm filled with the wonder of the different names of God, and it declares His protection over us again and again. If you’re a Baby Boomer like I am, memorize this psalm while you can still remember things, and pray it over your grandchildren. Or if you’re a young mom, pray it when fear grips your heart for your little ones. Just in the first two verses we see four majestic names of our God: Most High (El Elyon in Hebrew, which means the Highest of the high),Almighty (El Shaddai, which means God of the Mountains in Hebrew),LORD (Yahweh, built on the word for “I am” in Hebrew),God (Elohim, most commonly used word for God in Hebrew). How beautiful to know that “Whoever dwells in the shelter of El Elyon, will rest in the shadow of El Shaddai. I will say of Yahweh, he is my refuge and fortress, my Elohim in whom I trust” (vv. 1–2).…

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The raging fires jumped over our mountain toward our home within seconds. We were watching the news updates about pending evacuations as we hurriedly packed our bags, and suddenly the news anchor seemed to panic and almost shouted, “Everyone . . . EVACUATE NOW!” Our two college-aged daughters and I ran to our three cars and started to head down the mountain. A drive that normally would take five minutes to make it off the mountain took us 20 minutes, while we’d learn later that our neighbors who left just a few minutes after us had to wait in gridlock on that mountain for hours. As a mom, I longed to have my daughters in my car with me and wished we hadn’t worried about saving our cars from the fire. Like a mother hen protecting her chicks in a prairie fire, I wanted my “babies” with me. There was a moment on the mountain where I thought I might get separated from them as a police officer directed the chaotic traffic. I was terrified, remembering a fire when I lived in California where stranded motorists were killed in their cars trying to evacuate. We finally made it down the mountain safely, and sheltered in a friend’s home outside the evacuation zone. Sadly, over 350 homes were destroyed and two lives were lost on that summer day in Colorado Springs. In the midst of this pandemic—in the dawn of spring 2020—I’ve thought of that fire evacuation often.  Our daughters now live far from us with their own babies. Separated by several states with the order to “stay at home” our girls now have their own families to guard and protect. I’ve so longed to be near them and hold my grandbabies. There have been nights when I can’t sleep as I worry for my daughter who is a doctor having to still work at her hospital and come home to her little ones in the midst of Covid-19. Or worrying about my grandchildren (three under three years old) as Covid begins to hit little ones as well. This pandemic is a lot like a raging fire, filled with fear of the unknown. Perhaps, like me, you are separated from loved ones you wish you could shelter with and protect. Or perhaps you sense fear and worry threatening to overtake you as the news gets more dire every day. I know…

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