I sought the LORD & He heard me & delivered me from all my fears.
They looked unto Him & were lightened & their faces were not ashamed.
This poor man cried & the LORD heard him & saved him out of all his troubles.
The angel of the LORD encamps round about them that fear Him & delivers them.
O taste & see that the LORD is good: blessed is the man that trusts in Him.
When we seek to get near to God we walk His direction about one inch to see Him. But the Lord walks the hundreds of miles that we’ve put between us & Him. Then He surrounds us with His comforts & take all our fear & anxiety away.
We look at Him when He gets close to us & He has a radiant smile on His face. He assures us in the light of His warmth. He gives us the confidence that we can share all our feelings with Him. When we’re desperate we can trust Him to hear everything in our heart He will get us out of every tight spot. He puts His army of Angels all around us as a mighty protective force. The taste of His love, the sight of His presence is beautiful and amazing. He is one blessing after another blessing after another
“O Lord! We would remember You
And on Your care depend
To You in every trouble flee
Our safe unfailing friend
When human cisterns all are dried
Your fullness is the same,
May we with this be satisfied,
And glory in Your name.
So would we rather have a smooth path, or a path so rough that the Lord is compelled to show His shinning face to us every step of the path.
The psalmist moans in Psalms 39
I was determined to watch steps & tongue so they won’t land myself in trouble.
I decided to be silent as long as the word twisters we’re surrounding me.
I kept my mouth shut. I said, I’ll keep quiet. But the longer I kept silence The worse it got—
my insides got hotter & hotter. My thoughts boiled over; I spilled my guts.
“Tell me, what’s going on, GOD? How long do I have to live? Give me the bad news!
You’ve kept me on pretty short rations; my life is string too short to be saved.
Oh! we’re all puffs of air.
Oh! we’re all shadows in a campfire.
Oh! we’re just spit in the wind.
We make our pile, and then we leave it.
What am I doing, Lord? Hoping, that’s what I’m doing— hoping You’ll save me from a wasted life,
save me from the contempt of idiots.
I’ll say no more, I’ll shut my mouth, since you, Lord, are behind all this.
But I can’t take it much longer. When you put us through the fire to purge us from our sin,
our dearest idols go up in smoke. Are we also nothing but smoke?
Ah, GOD, listen to my prayer, my cry— open your ears.
Don’t be callous; just look at these tears of mine. I’m a stranger here. I don’t know my way—
Im a migrant Give me a break, cut me some slack before it’s too late and I’m out of here.” …