“The only way I can seem to describe it is that we miss his presence. He doesn’t live here anymore, and we are almost constantly aware of the void his departure has left.” My husband said something like this about two days after we put our first child on an airplane to head back to the States for college. The sentiment was repeated, one by one, as we hugged each of our three kids goodbye over the course of the next several years. Our kids weren’t present with us anymore. They didn’t live in our home. We couldn’t expect to see them at the beginning and end of each day. The chats that happened during everyday life were over. They no longer dwelled with us. 

God uses that word dwell when He talks about my relationship with Him. In Psalm 91:1, He says that “He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High, shall abide in the shadow of the Almighty.” Yes, this is divine poetry, but the emotions of security and protection these words bring to mind beckon me to run right into His arms. God wants me to dwell with Him and know the security and protection only He can bring, but how can I practically do this?

“I will say of the Lord; He is my refuge and strength, my God in Him will I trust” (Psalm 91:2). This is an answer to my question. If I’m not sensing the security that God brings, I can surmise that I’ve stepped out of His secret place. I’m depending on, or trusting in, other things besides God to be my protection. In fact, I’ve probably stopped talking to Him like my kids used to talk to us when they were young. I don’t go to Him to talk about life, and/or I’ve not trusted in the truth He speaks back to me through His word. (Psalm 91:4 “…His truth will be your shield and buckler…”). When this happens, I need to get back to God’s “secret place”, the place Matthew 6:6 implies is all about prayer. I need to hash out with Him all the things that bombard me throughout the day. I need to gain His perspective. I need to hear Him say, once again, that He is my protector. I need to ask Him to help me believe. I need Him to remind me of the bigger picture that He sees, and to help me to remember His promises. I need to get back into God’s house and dwell with Him.

Our kids don’t dwell with us anymore. They are still so much a part of us, but when they sleep in and come to our home, they are now visitors; visitors in a whole different sense than most, but still visitors. I’m still not sure I like this change, but I don’t doubt that this is part of God’s plan for all of us. One positive thing that has come from this change, though, is that it has underscored for me the difference between visiting and dwelling. I don’t want to simply visit God: I want to dwell with Him.