To experience shelter, or to be sheltered, is to be secured and provided for. We take shelter in the things we expect to be sturdy, and in the people we have found to be safe.
I came to Jesus first as a young child. As I remember this first encounter with God, I feel mostly fear. The person who told me about God on this day, who I believe was genuinely concerned for my soul and salvation, raised her voice in a solemn and earnest warning – ‘Watch out,’ she said, ‘there is a judgment coming, and you cannot withstand it. Turn to God, repent of your sin, and he will save you.’
Imagine a child playing near a road. She is immersed in her play, her heart light, her eyes bright and alive, her fingers brushing the grasses and sand. As she explores a world enchanted with beauty and light, she does not hear the car come screaming down the street, does not see the way it weaves and jerks, does not sense the danger that is sure and fast approaching.
In this moment, any one of us will run from danger in obedience to an earnest warning, and this is good and right. What is missing, however, from this presentation of the good news of Jesus, is the best part of the story – the person who calls out to us is also the parent who runs toward us praying that he will make it in time, praying the car will swerve away. The one who calls is the one whose arms have spent long hours swaying, singing, and soothing us to sleep; whose heels and shins have been bruised on toys we have left on the floor, whose hands and hearts have been marked by extra shifts at work, anxious prayers in the night, and an enduring ache that we might be whole; whose eyes are bright and crinkly-lined from an utter delight in the pride and pleasure of sharing life with us.
The heart of this good news, as I am coming to understand, is not the warning alone, but the trusted adult who gives it. It is not the one moment of rescue or escape from harm, but the secure attachment the Lord Jesus longs to give us when we come to him.
For those of us who first met Jesus through a moment of fear; whose hearts and minds and bodies have held onto the terror of the threat rather than the safety and provision and enduring loveliness of the shelter we sought; who continue to struggle to connect to the love that our God professes for us – a prayer:
Jesus, open our eyes to see your indignant fury at those who would dare hinder your children from coming to you. Open our ears to hear you declare that you will surely bring to account those who would cause one of these little ones to stumble. Even as we tremble beneath the sharp claws and cruel beaks so near the seed being sown along the path, and we seek to bear up under the weight of internal rebuke as we stumble toward you, let us find our shelter from the darkness in the fire that warms and nourishes, whose steady embers in the night anticipate the sure rising of the sun every new day.
some questions to hold
- What are some of the moments in your life when you have experienced receiving shelter? offering shelter?
- What is one small way you might practice receiving shelter in relationship with Jesus?
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– Amanda
connectinghope.art 