Shelter Under His Wings

Oh, that I knew where I might find Him.

– Job 23:3 (ESV)

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It is the heaven-born instinct of a gracious soul to seek shelter from all ills beneath the wings of Jehovah. ‘He who has made God his refuge’ might serve as the title of a true believer. A hypocrite, when afflicted by God, resents the infliction and, like a slave, would run from the Master who has scourged him; but not so the true heir of heaven, who kisses the hand that struck him and seeks shelter from the rod in the heart of the God who frowned upon him. Job’s desire to commune with God was intensified by the failure of all other sources of consolation. The patriarch turned away from his sorry friends and looked up to the heavenly throne, just as a traveler turns from his empty water jug and makes a beeline for the well. He bids farewell to earthly hopes and cries, ‘Oh, that I knew where I might find my God!’ Nothing teaches us about the preciousness of the Creator as much as when we learn the emptiness of everything else. Turning away with bitter scorn from earth’s hives, where we find no honey, but many sharp stings, we rejoice in Him whose faithful Word is sweeter than honey or the honeycomb. In every trouble we should first seek to realize God’s presence with us. Only let us enjoy His smile, and then we can bear our daily cross with a willing heart for His dear sake.

– Morning and Evening (November 19th - Evening), C. H. Spurgeon


Wave after wave of sorrow has beaten upon us. We’ve altogether lost our bearing entirely. Water fills our mouth and nostrils, delivering its burn; robbing us of breath.

At times, the gush is self-inflicted, as we thrash about, rightly deserved. Equitably, our blessed Lord stirs about tumultuous havoc with the gentle strokes of His finger.

And so, we’re set in our proper place.

He invites us.

O, beloved. Wheresoever shall we go? To whom can we take refuge? Do we dare, run to Him? The One, quite possibly causing this commotion? This heart-ache? This pain?

Yes. We shall. Gladly.

For, He gently prods us. He tenderly rouses us from our slumber.

You see, we, drowsy with presumed opulence, drifted away from safety. Oh! That we could have drowned, without His great mercy! Without Him interceding!

Therefore, oh soul! Let us come. Let us run to Him. Let us take shelter under His wings. May we kiss His beloved fingers, the very ones that caused us distress. For we know, now, He acted in love.

We tremble before Him, as those that narrowly escaped certain death.