My Rock and My Refuge

I love you, O LORD, my strength. The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies. Psalm 18:1-2

The problem with treating God like a polite acquaintance rather than the loving Father that He is becomes glaringly obvious to me when I read a passage like this one. This last week was not an easy one. I experienced loss and grief, fear, and disappointment. Thursday morning, as I woke, still processing Uncle Butch's death the night before, God who is rich in mercy and abounding in love allowed me to crawl into the place I meet with Him, open His Word, written to show me who He is in times like these, and read Psalm 18:1-2. Who is He?

My strength, so good to know when I am very, very weak.
My rock. This always makes me picture one of those giant boulders in some National Park that people go up and push against and take pictures with as though they're holding it up, when in reality, they could push with all their might and that massive rock isn't going to budge. There is great comfort for me in knowing that no matter how hard I push against My Rock, He does not move. He stands, unchanging, constant.
My fortress, a place of protection and defense in the midst of a raging battle.
My deliverer. I am free. I am free to experience all that life has for me, knowing that I am slave to none of it. He has set me free.
My refuge, shelter in the storm, a safe place.
My shield, my first line of defense, extinguishing the flaming arrows of my enemies.
My horn of salvation, trumpeting victory before the battles even get started.
My stronghold. When discussing sin, a stronghold is a negative thing, the place that Satan seems to have the advantage in our lives, but when talking about God, this is the best news possible. He's got me, and He will never let go.