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Inspirational Articles by Lygia Lovelace



Refuge 91 - Part 1
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…


Meg's world.


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:


Refuge 91…


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 accomplishment…


This just felt right. Peaceful. Necessary.


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 hungry!"


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 empty stomach!"


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 brush.


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, safe.


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?


Your 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.

Psalm 91



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.


Copyright © 2010. Faith Matters by Lygia Lovelace. All rights reserved. KenLovelaceMinistries.com

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