“Hear my cry, O God, listen to my prayer, from the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.” Psalm 61:1-2.
These verses embody my cry over the past two weeks as the grief of miscarriage, a year of hardship, and the loss of understanding and direction demand to be my constant companions.
Arriving at the She Speaks Conference, I collapse at a table in the back. As Lysa TerKeurst soars in an amazing opening talk describing how “our reactions determine our reach,” something emerges from her session answering my cry from Psalm 61:1-2.
When I hear this news, I want to jump up and scream, “Are you serious?! You mean to tell me the devil can’t get in here? He’s not invited? He’s bound from the premises? Are you telling me that I am safe? I am truly safe?” I haven’t felt safety in months. Rather, it seems I am satan’s constant prey, as though he would stop at nothing to consume me – head, tail, and all. He is pursuing my hopes, my dreams, my flesh, and my heart. I feel his desire is to grind it all into dust; attempting to wipe me out. “Seek and destroy!” is his cry, but here…in this place…I have gotten in and he is forbidden to follow. I hear these words commanded at satan, “You shall not pass,” and I look around for someone to hug.
A sigh breaks forth from my lips. I sense the burden, then I watch and feel it lift. Tears falling, my heart breaks open. Collapsing before God like a sojourner – blistered, ravaged, and empty from the journey – I crawl into the arms Jesus. This is the first time in months I feel safe. Not looking over my shoulder, not worrying about what is coming next. Not wondering what my perky little Christian answer is going to be for the next blow. Participating in the sweet release and worrying for nothing; everything fades. For right now, in this moment, I feel peace. I have arrived at the rock that is higher than my strength, my ability, and my conscious will. I am well aware of the storms still raging overhead, but here, in this moment, I am safe. I am in the shelter of God, fashioned for me through the intercession of precious women who said, “Lord, You told us she was coming. Your daughter was coming and she would need a place to land. And Lord, she is here. We will guard her. We will bear our sister’s burden. We will bind the devil in Jesus name. As You empower us, we will be the haven, and she will find Your healing.”
Somewhere in the message, as Lysa’s word of hope sings on, I hear the words, “God is near.” But you know what? I am already well aware of that.