Refuge 91 - Part
Meg Chooses the Most High as Her Dwelling
by Lygia Lovelace
As she reached for another
tent peg, sweat dripped from her forehead. It had been a
long day, but she was determined. She glanced up at the
sun, and noticed that gradually it was slipping down, closer
to the water's edge on the other side of the lake. She wanted
her tent to be ready before dark. She worked diligently.
Perhaps all would be done.
As she hammered the last peg
into the ground, she heard it -- that roar again. What was
that?! It sounded like it was coming from the woods over
to the south of her campsite…her dwelling place. Was it…a
wild animal? But that was ridiculous, right?
Never mind. She would ignore
it. After all, the kind man hadn't mentioned anything about
animals, or snakes…or any kind of danger.
She considered taking a swim
in the lake-the cool water would feel good after such a
hot day -- and a strenuous workout! But she decided not
to -- at least not tonight. She was too exhausted! And,
though she didn't feel afraid, she wasn't sure she was completely
alone. She felt a Presence here.
She stood back to consider
her work. She couldn't believe she had actually put
up that tent all by herself! How had she done it? She smiled
as she pictured herself trying to convince her friends that
she had actually done this -- alone! But then she grimaced.
It didn't matter now, anyway.
She was alone. No one cared.
She sat awhile, outside, listening
to the sounds of the crickets as night approached her little
tent. What did they have to sing about, she wondered? She
remembered her grandmother once telling her that crickets,
and all creatures, lived out their lives as praise to God.
The birds chirped of His constant provision, the wolves
howled of His enduring love -- even in the blackest of night…
And the crickets? They sang
of His undying faithfulness as they walked through their
journey of life.
Well, her grandmother was a
dreamer, and an idealist. What did she know of the real
world -- Meg's world -- the world of business, of cut-throat
opportunities, of lost relationships, of bad endings…
And what did crickets and other
creatures have to do with her world?
What did God have to do with
it, for that matter?
That's why Meg just had to
be alone. That's why she had come to this campsite -- actually
it had come to her! She had been driving, with no real destination
in mind, and suddenly there it was:
Odd name…where did the number
come from? What did it mean? Oh well...the trees were pretty,
and that man at the check-in booth looked friendly.
She had inquired of a cabin.
He had sent her in this direction…
"Oh, I can see you would
enjoy the Most High campsite -- over there in the deepest
part of Refuge 91. Follow this path until you find a clearing,
near the lake," he had told her.
So she had driven, looking
for a cabin. But all she had found was this tent -- neatly
folded, tent pegs and hammer placed beside…
Well, she had almost turned
around and gone back. Surely this was NOT the place. She
couldn't set up a tent alone!
But then, as she got out of
the car and gazed across the lake, she knew. This place
was meant for her. Why not?! She could figure that
tent out. Surely it only took a little common sense.
What it TOOK was ALL DAY LONG!
But the tent was finally up.
And there was even a sleeping bag, in a neat little roll,
the same color as the tent. And she felt a huge sense of
This just felt right. Peaceful.
She shivered as the night air
and a Shadow began to close around her. Somehow she felt…content,
safe…she couldn't explain it. She walked to her trunk to
get her suitcase, and she started for the tent -- her new
dwelling place…at least for awhile.
She heard that roar again as
she stepped inside the tent. But it didn't even worry her…she
was too exhausted. She unrolled the sleeping bag, crawled
inside, and slept until morning. All of her worries drifted
away completely, with her dreams.
When she awoke, she wasn't
sure where she was. But she could smell fresh bacon cooking…
As memories of the day before
came flooding back to her, she sat up suddenly…who's
here? She searched her mind for some memory of a visitor
the day before…but she could think of no one. Who even
knew she was here? Was she at someone else's campsite?!
Embarrassed, she peeked through
the flap in the tent. An elderly man was bent purposefully
over a little campfire. He was humming softly to himself
-- the song he has humming struck some kind of memory chord
in her heart…but she couldn't quite place it. Something
seemed familiar about him…was it the man from the day before?
The man from the check-in booth? No…
Who was he?
And there was bacon sizzling
in his pan.
Hastily, Meg tried to smooth
out the wrinkles in her clothes -- clothes from the day
before -- and she ran her fingers through her hair.
As she approached the man,
he smiled. He didn't even introduce himself.
"Good morning! Sleep well?
Breakfast ought to be ready in just a moment…hope you're
Meg smiled, trying to be friendly.
"Sir, I think maybe you
have the wrong campsite…I mean, I don't know you…I came
alone and just got here yesterday…I didn't order breakfast
or anything, and well, I…" her voice drifted away as
she struggled to find the words.
"Well, you're here at
Refuge 91, aren't you? You chose the Most High as your dwelling?
This is a beautiful spot, don't you think? And I
must say…fine job on the tent! Looks good and sturdy!"
She opened her mouth to speak,
but the old man went back to his cooking, humming that familiar
song again. She looked around. There was an old blanket
spread on the ground. A feast was spread on it -- biscuits,
fruit, eggs, juice…with only one plate. Was that her plate?
Was this all for her?!
The old man gestured toward
the blanket. "Have a seat! Enjoy! I wasn't sure if
you preferred jam or honey for your biscuits, but I…"
Meg interrupted. "Sir,
I don't understand! Who are you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot
to introduce myself." The old man put down his pan
and stuck out a time-withered hand. "My name's Alexander.
And what's your name?"
"You don't even know my
name and yet you fixed me breakfast?"
"Oh, yes ma'am…you see
it's one of the amenities here. The Boss, well, He takes
really good care of you…when you make the Most High as your
dwelling. Please, come! Eat! It's no good talking on an
Meg sat down. She was still
confused, but she WAS hungry. She had been so distracted
with her problems, and then so busy with that tent, that
she hadn't even considered what she would eat while she
was here. How had he known?
She took a bite as she watched
the old man, Alexander, walking toward the woods. What was
he looking for? He was kneeling down, gazing down into the
Then, he got up and vigilantly
walked the perimeter of her campsite.
She thought it was odd -- he
was odd. But somehow, she felt comforted, protected,
Somehow, she knew it was right
for her to be here...
All week long, I've been in
Psalm 91 -- Refuge 91, according to Meg's world. When times
are hard, or exhausting, or aggravating…when hopes are dashed,
and feelings are hurt, when despair, or too much emotion
sets in…it's a good place to camp out.
A necessary place.
It's not always easy to get
there, though. At least that's true with me.
When I am down, depressed,
and struggling, my spirit at times resists the Refuge. And
then, when I make an attempt to go there, sometimes it's
a struggle. Like Meg struggled with her tent, I struggle
with making the Word my dwelling place, my shelter from
the storms and disappointments of life.
Do you know why that is?
enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking
for someone to devour…
I Peter 5:8
Because the enemy is working
against you. He will distract you, depress you, and send
you on a search for relief that is far away from Refuge
91 -- far away from healing, or renewal.
Do you need a vacation? Do
you long for a respite from the struggles of life…or just
the sameness of life?
Go to Refuge 91…go to the Most
High dwelling…go to the Word…go to the Father.
He who dwells in the shelter of
the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty….
If you make the Most High your dwelling -- even the Lord,
who is my refuge -- then no harm will befall you,
No disaster will come near your tent.
For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you
in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not
strike your foot against a stone.
You will not tread upon the lion and the cobra; you will
trample the great lion and the serpent.
I challenge you to memorize
Psalm 91 this week! Then, you will be able to better understand
Meg's continued journey as we continue her story…towards
rescue, peace, and safety…
Do you want to know God's will
for your life?
Maybe Meg can point the way.
© 2010. Faith Matters by Lygia Lovelace. All rights