Dwell in safety



"You shouldn't walk home by yourself," they said. 
"Don't make eye-contact with anyone. Keep your head down."
"Get your phone out and pretend you're talking to your (*fictitious) boyfriend about how you'll be home in 10 minutes."
"But seriously Cat, don't walk home by yourself."

That's what they said, and I agreed. But I leave my friends' apartment one Friday night to discover that both my bike wheels have been stolen. It's 2am and there won't be any night buses for a long time. So I set off along a dingily lit French street with my hands in my pockets. It's ok at first, but soon enough I have to channel all of my energies into trying to force myself to stay calm. The night-time streets are a different world, with an entirely new kind of power and with their own rules. There are prostitutes standing on the road, talking to each other. There are men loitering on street corners, men who seem to think that I'll be gratified by their crude assessments of my body as I pass by. The odd car drives past with windows down, blaring music and carrying passengers who also think that yelling obscenities at a girl they don't know is a good form of entertainment.

My experience of fear is that it's not a choice. It's an instinct, a visceral response. I hear something drop, tires screech to a halt and suddenly I have no interest in trying to look like I'm not afraid anymore. Keys clutched in one hand I pelt my way home, grateful for each turning that brings me a little nearer to my front door. It's only once I'm there that I clock how much my heart is racing, as I struggle to hold the key still enough to unlock the door. Inside, my housemates are sleeping and abruptly I find myself back in my old world, the one where I understand the rules and where the people with power are on my side. But my ears are still ringing and the silence pounds. Why did I do that to myself? How could I forget what those streets are like? 

"I will fear no evil, for you are with me." Psalm 23: 4

"In peace I will both lie down and sleep, for you alone make me dwell in safety."  Psalm 4:8

"Therefore we will not fear though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea." Psalm 46:2

What does it mean to be safe?  It's a question that is fresh in my mind this weekend, as I read about the attacks in Paris, attacks in streets that are familiar to me, in restaurants where I've spent fun evenings with friends. Are we safe? How are people in Paris ever going to feel safe again? Will they ever be able to hear the normal bangs and crashes of everyday life without fearing for their lives? When I look at the pictures from Friday, I can't help but feel a deep sense of sadness that my world - a world of cafes, bars and theatres, a world where I trust the people with power, a world that follows rules I understand - has been violated, has been fundamentally changed. My world now has roving gunmen, senseless mass murders, and bloodstained, bullet-ridden bistro tables.  

And yet somehow the world hasn't changed at all. It's more that I've been woken up to how blind I am to what safety really means, to what it is to be secure. Being safe doesn't mean that you won't be terrified sometimes. Being secure doesn't mean that our worst nightmares won't happen, and then more. The security we have in Christ is much stronger than that. It is safety in this world of danger, darkness and depravity. 

That is the testimony of the Christians across the ages – from Paul 'despairing even of life' to the early Christians who wandered around in 'sheepskins and goatskins' - from Cowper, confined to a lunatic asylum, to Helen Roseveare being raped by rebels in the Congo… the abundant life we have in Jesus is experienced most strongly when it is life IN the presence of death, peace IN trouble, contentment IN hardship, safety IN persecution, soul-satisfaction IN famine, clothing IN nakedness, defence IN danger....WHILE being sawn in two.

You can never be more safe, or more secure than you are now because you are in Christ. 

Man-made security systems are on stand-by till the moment the enemy or intruder attacks, and then they come into play. God's isn't. You are safe. Actively. Always....because you are in Christ. God’s provision of security is so comprehensive that it survives the worst apparent ‘intrusions’ redeeming them, turning them for good. God's security protects you now and it is invincible - it will carry you through the unthinkable ... and beyond. God's security doesn't have to respond to new threats, new tactics, new strategies.

You could never be more safe.

You could never be more loved.


In the words of John Chrysostom (c.347 - 407) to the Empress Eudoxia:

“You cannot banish me, for this world is my Father’s house.”

“But I will kill you,” said the empress.

“No, you cannot, for my life is hid with Christ in God,” said John.

“I will take away your treasures.”

“No, you cannot, for my treasure is in heaven and my heart is there.”

“But I will drive you away from your friends and you will have no one left.”

“No, you cannot, for I have a Friend in heaven from whom you cannot separate me. I defy you, for there is nothing you can do to harm me.”





"The Lord will keep you from all harm; He will watch over your life." Psalm 121:7

Comments

  1. A timely read… expressing the turmoil inside as well as the safest place … Christ.

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