Where Security Begins

It was just a few months after losing our second daughter when my husband and I sat across from a friend talking through our grief. I remember him saying to me, “Lindsey, what would it look like for you to rest in the safety of God’s arms right now?” I cringed at the thought. “Safe?” God surely didn’t feel safe to me at that moment.

My first daughter had died over 14 months earlier, and then we had walked through virtually the same situation with our second daughter. I could grasp that, somewhere, in all of this pain, God was good, God was at work, and God was even loving, but none of that had translated into Him being a place of safety for me in the midst of my deep grief.

If He could allow this pain to enter my life, not once but twice, what did it even mean for Him to be a place of safety for me? When I thought of safety, I thought of protection from pain. And this felt like anything but.

But that question pierced my soul throughout the months that followed, and brought me to a place of learning what it really means that God is our place of refuge. As I have journeyed over the last five years through grief and loss, I have become more confident that God is my refuge, and also more fearful for what that means. His sovereignty has left me both comforted and uncomfortable.

Security was probably one of the biggest struggles of my heart since losing my girls.

There is a fear of what may next come into my life, and the brutal realization that I am not immune to suffering or the sheer “randomness” of pain. I am in constant need of coming back to God’s word, and discovering in deeper ways what it means that He is my place of safety, my security, and my refuge. I am so quick to lean into my fears instead of into God’s truths.

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust!”
For it is He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with His pinions, and under His wings you may seek refuge;
His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark.
Psalm 91: 1-4

These Psalms were likely read and compiled during the diaspora (when the Israelites were exiled from their homeland and about to re-enter). It was a time when the Israelites were wondering, “Where is God? Our kings are gone; our home is gone. Is everything You promised us still true? Are You still true?”

When our experiences seem to contradict our faith, how do we live? The Israelites were likely asking this question, and I imagine it is still a question we ask today. What do we do and how do we live when our experience doesn’t seem to match our faith? What do I think and believe about God when He promises to be my place of safety, but where I am and what I am experiencing feels anything but safe?

So where is safety found?

Psalm 91:1 begins with the answer to that question.

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.”

Both here and throughout God’s Word, it is clear that security is found in the presence of God, our Almighty King. That answer sounds all kinds of nice and easy, but how do we get there when we feel unsafe in His presence?

This verse indicates that when we dwell in the shelter of the Most High, we will abide—make our home or place of safety and refuge—in His shadow. Security begins when we acknowledge the places we are looking to find security outside of the presence of God. The Hebrew word for dwell means “dwelling in quietude and resting, enduring and remaining with constancy.” How we react to our circumstances will reveal where we are dwelling.

Am I dwelling in my circumstances or with the One who holds my circumstances?
Am I dwelling on medical answers or my Creator’s infinite knowledge?
Am I dwelling on the hope of future children or His presence alone?
Am I dwelling on my pain or the promises He gives me in my pain?

In and of itself, it is not wrong to hope for more children, to want medical answers, or to acknowledge and groan over our pain. But do we remain in those places, looking for security apart from God? What is taking up the majority of my mental space and thoughts? That will be a good indicator of where I am dwelling.

The shelter of God that we are to dwell in is also called the “secret places.” Throughout Scripture that was a reference to the most holy place in the temple, where only those who were clean could go, the ultimate sacrifices were made, and where relationship with God happened. And that is the place that was hidden by a large and heavy curtain, torn top to bottom when Christ died on the cross offering every person a way to meet with Him. (Psalm 27:4-6; Matthew 27: 50-51; Hebrews 10:19-23)

Our dwelling is not only our conscious decision to remain, but the indisputable reality of where the one who knows Christ as their Lord and Savior already is. Security begins when we bring our questions and fears to the Lord. Dear one, will you turn to the Lord today and receive the security He longs to provide for you?

Hi! I’m Lindsey. I live in Orlando, Florida with my stud of a husband Kevin. We have 3 incredible children, Sophie and Dasah who now live with Jesus, and Jaden who came into our lives through adoption. We have a very energetic golden retriever, and love living in the sunshine state. I get to spend my days loving on my son, investing my life in college students here through a non-profit organization we’re a part of, and when I have time, writing on my blog about the hope that doesn’t disappoint!

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