I had a text: “Mom, I am terrified.” I read it out loud to Brett. “You okay?” I texted back. My husband and I were at the beach.
My mom was watching the kids, but I knew our youngest had practice and Mom would be with him leaving our daughter home alone.
My girl texted: “It sounds like someone is on the stairs.”
“Tell her I’m calling the neighbors,” I ordered Brett while dialing. After only a three-second explanation, Judi reassured me, “Rob and I are on our way.” I dialed our daughter, pointed to the exit, and told Brett, “I’ll be back. Sorry.”
We switched from date mode to protect-our-daughter mode in a single heartbeat. Our daughter needed us, and we responded immediately.
Trust the Lord
God does this for us when we call out to him. Except, of course, he does it way better.
It doesn’t matter what else is going on in the world, if we cry out, Jesus is there. That’s why David belts out in Psalm 61, ‘Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer. From the ends of the earth I call to you, I call as my heart grows faint (1–2).”
David knew God would answer. He didn’t know what that would mean exactly, but David knew it was better than not calling out to the Lord.
The same way our daughter knew we would answer if she texted us—she didn’t know exactly how we could help from the beach while she was home, but she knew it would be better than not calling out.
“Are you okay?” “Mom,” she whispered, “I keep hearing banging. Oh, that’s the doorbell. What should I do?” “Let Rob and Judi in.”
I stepped out into the parking lot met by a warm breeze. Our neighbors’ voices were reassuring in the background. I stayed on the line, while texting my mom, who replied instantly. She’d notified our son’s coach and was heading to the house.
In Psalm 61 King David basically says, “I don’t know what I need, God, but I need you. You’ve kept me safe in the past. I’m trusting you’ll do it again.”
This was our girl’s heart cry too. She didn’t know what she needed, but she trusted her parents would be able to get her to a safe spot. Not because she could touch, see, or feel us, but because we’d kept her safe in the past.
The Lord cares for us
“Lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the foe” (2–3).
Brett frantically peeked out from the restaurant entrance. “She’s all right. Rob and Judi are there. You okay in there?” I asked. He gave me a thumbs up. “Glad she’s okay. Come back whenever you’re ready. The house is old and creaky. It was probably nothing.” “Maybe.”
I stayed on the phone while Rob walked the perimeter of our house and Judi stayed with our girl. Rob gave an all clear and kindly invited our daughter over until my mom returned.
There were a lot of details to execute in a matter of minutes—texting and calling our daughter, the neighbors, and my mom. Leaving the restaurant while holding our table. Having Brett do one thing while I did the other.
If we, as imperfect parents, could and would do all that for our girl, can you imagine how much the perfect, almighty, omnipotent God will bend over to help us, his children, when we call?
We never found out what those noises were, but it doesn’t matter. Our girl was safe. It wasn’t exactly how I’d have scripted my romantic dinner with my husband, but I’d do it again a hundred times over.
And Brett would be just as helpful, caring, and gracious all those one hundred times. My mom would gladly drive the extra hour round-trip. And our neighbors would walk next door every night of the week if we asked.
Because we all care about our girl.
He is almighty
If this is what we all did for our girl on a February evening, don’t you think God would do anything in his power to care for you in our hour of need?
“I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings. For you, God, have heard my vows” (4–5).
This episode with our girl illustrates it so vividly for me. It doesn’t matter what made the noises—it wasn’t silly for her to reach out, because she was scared. People who love us will do everything in their power to protect us when we’re frightened.
God loves us perfectly. We can be assured he’ll drop everything to take our texts and calls. He promises to never leave us (Hebrews 13:5).
And because he is almighty, our God can take on everything that puts us on edge. He’s more powerful. “May he be enthroned in God’s presence forever; appoint your love and faithfulness to protect [us]. Then I will ever sing in praise of your name” (Psalm 61:7–8).”
So what are we afraid of?
The unknown? The diagnosis? The confrontation? Failing? Falling?
Fear is not invited into our lives. Fear is not of God. And when we call out to Jesus, fear has to leave.
His perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18). That word casts comes from the Greek word ballo, which means “to throw, let go of,” or if you’re discussing a fluid, “to pour out.”
This is what Jesus does with our fear when we turn it over to him. We can throw it out, pour it down the drain, or drop it—because God is our strong tower.
Whatever you’re fearing for yourself or your kids today, know that God is on speed dial, ready to pick up the phone to be your shelter, refuge, and protector.
This article is an excerpt of Restore My Soul: The Power and Promise of 30 Psalms used with permission from Our Daily Bread Publishing. © 2022 by Laura L. Smith All rights reserved.
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