O God, the nations have invaded your inheritance. They have defiled your holy temple. They have laid Jerusalem in ruins.
In summer 2021, my husband finally purchased something I’d wanted for years: an umbrella for over our picnic table! I was ecstatic to sit in the shade with our son, enjoying the nice summer breezes. We’d owned the table for most of our married life but put off the umbrella addition because it was more want than need, and we tend to be thrifty 90% of the time; so equally as much a blessing as the umbrella itself was that my husband was willing to spend the money on that want!
Then came the evening, after my son and I climbed into bed, that my husband came home from the store and poked his head in to ask, with worry dripping from his tone, “Did you touch the umbrella? Babe, it’s gone.”
Less than the rage that the umbrella was stolen was the terror that bolted through me at that moment; because the picnic table sat right outside the kitchen window, where I often walked and bounced my son when he was fussy. Suddenly, my house didn’t feel safe. Our privacy was invaded. Our sacred family space was defiled. And as I lay in bed, struggling to fall asleep, feeling watched and intruded upon, I realized we were partially to blame; because despite a rash of break-ins ranging from small items poached from cars to entire living room setups stolen, I hadn’t kept a close eye out.
At that moment, I could relate to some degree, with the children of Israel. Like me, they didn’t pay attention closely to the invasions and thefts and wicked practices going on in their cul-de-sac…make that kingdom. They let down their guard and invited danger too close, and they reaped the consequences; not just a lost umbrella, but a lost temple, a loss of self-governance, and a constant state of fear.
I can hardly imagine that. We are so blessed not to live in constant fear for our lives; we are so blessed that these things are incidents, not the norm. But that also makes it so rattling, when you feel that invasion. That defilement.
So, I too, cried out to God that night. I begged for protection. I begged for a heart and mind to be sharp and willing to do the tough things and to remember to guard my borders from wickedness, as much as it’s in me…and then to trust Him to handle the rest. You’d better believe I prayed hard for mine and my son’s safety when my husband was at work and for a vigilant eye and a strong gut intuition to know if anything was coming at us, spiritually or physically. And finally, full of prayer, I fell asleep.
I say all this to encourage you: don’t wait for your borders to be attacked to get your house right. Be proactive in protecting the house—both spiritually and physically—that God has charged you with. Don’t flaunt His protection and providence by misusing grace, and don’t flaunt the things He’s gifted you with in this life by acting as if they can’t be compromised. Because they can, and that sense of security stripped away is not something you easily forget. Even if there’s a good outcome to the story.
Ours had that, by the way. Turns out we hadn’t been stolen from at all; the wind somehow lifted the umbrella up from its station in the middle of the table and blew it into the neighbor’s yard. But I like to think God turned that false alarm into a fantastic teaching opportunity; because you’d better believe we didn’t let that umbrella out of our sight again. And we’re twice as careful now about guarding our borders than we were before!
