I lift up my eyes to the hills— where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip— he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you— the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm— he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.
I loved this Psalm.
Every time I passed a hill or mountain, it ran through my mind and my heart.
Being watched over by a Lord who cared
Who would keep me from harm.
Now I knew that was not physical harm
I had my share of that!
Nor emotional, mental harm.
But spiritual harm
I had a God who would keep me safe if I but trusted.
Went pear shaped.
Now the Psalm rings hollow
The cries of victory that once filled me with strength say nothing
Say that I was deluded, the book that once I placed my faith in is no more of God than the writings of all those others...
The faith I held and held so dear was straw, myth, fable.
And I stand alone...
I know I sound sorrowful, which I am.
But I am not looking for anything but understanding.
I have no choice but to feel this way, no option but to walk on
And hope that whatever I walk into will be truth, will be reality
I remain open.
I trust and hope that if out there somewhere there is a god, who wants me to know of him
He will let me know and guide me
But I have little hope of that happening