It’s one of those times when we look up to find Rhema quietly weeping. We don’t know what brings on her sad tears. But every time, we drop everything, Hope and I. We swoop down on her holding her hands if she’ll let us, stroking her hair, sheltering her in love.
His faithfulness will be your shield, I read it this week.
Yes, there are days even weeks and months when so much hurt and painful information crowds around like enemies of the soul. Broken bodies, fragile hearts, temptations, what I can’t undo, disappointment one every side – they roar their mockery.
Can we be helped?
In the battle I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”
So bring the arrows, bring the swords. Bring the peace that passes understanding. When it’s over bring the victory song. My Glory, my head-lifter, my one defense.
Faithful then, faithful now, He is ever faithful. He lifts it up like a shield.
(Quotes from Psalm 3, Psalm 91).