Do You Ever Long to Find a Place of Safety in this Crazy World?

Towering high, nestled in the limbs of the tree outside my window, there is a nest. I’ve looked up at that nest for days now, wondering what’s happening inside. I’ve see birds coming and going to that tree. I’ve even glimpsed movement between the branches. But it’s just too high up- and I’m not one for climbing trees! But, oh, I just wish I could see inside!

It has got me thinking, though, about what it means to be safe. Those baby birds are very, very high up. They are balanced precariously at the top of a very tall tree. Wind blows and rain falls. And yet, those little babies are held secure. They are protected. They are fed. Though they are so very small and so very vulnerable, they are safe.

Sometimes, I feel small and vulnerable too. Maybe you can relate. This is a frightening world, where people get hurt and terrible things happen. It can feel out of control, and very frightening.

And yet… there is a place we can hide, beneath the shadow of the Almighty, under the shelter of His wings. He is our hiding place. Trusting in Him, following Him, no matter what happens, we are secure.

“He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.”  Psalm 91:1-2 (KJV)

It reminds me of a poem I wrote a while ago, thinking about the dwelling place of the Almighty: a place so secure that the swallow lays her nest there: a place so secure that I can hide myself, too. I hope it blesses you.

“Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God.” Psalm 84:3 (KJV)

The Swallow’s Nest

Where swallows lay their babies,

My heart finds her rest

In refuge strong, Almighty,

By tender, loving Breast.

When tears and tearings bleed deep,

I can come away.

This bruised reed finds her comfort

Where nestlings sleep, all safe.


If lambs lie in His bosom,

And chicks beneath His wings,

Then I can still be broken

And healing find in Him.

For though He rules the thunder,

He holds the little lambs

And fragile ones find refuge

Close to the great I Am.


The winds may roar around me

Wild waves toss round my way,

Or cruel tongues mock and taunt me

Or darkness dim my day.

Where swallows lay their babies,

My heart find her rest.

How lovely are Thine altars

Beside the swallow’s nest!




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