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Safe

I woke up last Sabbath morning feeling normal.  I’ve felt normal every since.  6 days of normal.  It’s so relieving   I’ve existed under this weight, so heavy on my chest, for over three months. . . . the last month being the worst, suffocatingly so.

I read Psalm 134 yesterday; part of my quiet time Bible study.  It’s a call to “bless the Lord”.  What struck me was that it is for those who “stand in the Lord’s house at night.”   A strange picture is drawn in my head.  Normally  I think of coming to the Lord’s house in the day time, sun shining, flowers blooming, a bounce in my step, joy springing from my soul.  But this. . . this picture is at night.

 It’s dark, only street lamps light the way.  Dim ones that cast a faint yellow glow.  The air is foreboding.  Darkness presses in.  I walk the streets.  A cloak covers my body, a hood over my head.  I shiver, not from the cold, but from the darkness of the night.  I know where I’m going.  The shadows dance at a distance.  I turn the corner, the House of the Lord stands tall before me, majestic, made of stone.  The rose window luminescent under the night sky.  I lower the hood off my head and undo the clasp of my cloak as I walk up the numerous steps to the massive wooden doors that stand between me and the House of the Lord.  I grip the long brass handle and pull.  Heavy, I pull hard.  The door opens silently.  I enter.  Candles light the House or the Lord.  The breeze caused by opening the door causes the light to flicker.  Removing my cloak I place it over the back pew.  A deep breath escapes my body.  Slowly I walk to the front; each step brings greater release.  My shoulders relax, the anxious anticipation seeps out of my heart.  Though my soul is heavy I find rest.  I sit in the front pew.  And here I am, in the House of the Lord . . . at night . . . and I am safe.

That has been my experience.  During this time, where what seemed like heavy hands pressed harder and harder on my chest, pushing the very life out of me, I found solace in one place.  Most mornings I would awake early; before the night gave way to the sun.  I did it on purpose, so I could be alone.  And as the sun slowly arose to light the world I sat in my rocking chair and spent time with Jesus.  My own private “House of the Lord”.  I didn’t find relief from the suffocating pressure, but I did find rest.  It wasn’t even necessarily “comforting”, but it was safe.  
I don’t know whether this time of respite will remain or if it is simply temporary.  And it really doesn’t matter. For this I DO know.  I WILL bless the Lord when I come to His House in the night…. and there I will find rest . . . . . . and I will be safe.

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