A Shelter, A Dwelling, A Home

Scripture: Psalms 91, Psalms 84

It's a universal Psalm, nearly impossible to identify the circumstances of its writer. Some scholars believe it was written post battle or war, because of it's imagery - a fortress, a refuge - giving us the perspective of the warrior come home. Other scholars believe it's written post-exile, after the fall of the Southern Kingdom of Judah, when God's people were exiled from their land - out of their shell and seeking protection.

What makes this Psalm universal is its understanding and desire of protection, the noted vulnerability of the Psalmist, and the assurance and reassurance that God will take care of us, even in times of difficulty. Which is really what this Psalm is talking about. It's talking about being displaced, without a home, a refugee, in exile, in battle, in war. It's a Psalm seeking God's protection.

It gives a whole new meaning to home to me. Because for all the images of home for the holidays, we live in a world where home doesn't always provide the protection of a turtle shell.

This point came home to preacher Barbara Brown Taylor, and she shares the story in her sermon, "None of us is home yet." She says, "...my home is my sanctuary, the place where I rest, where I retire beyond the reach of the noisy world, where I am fed. It is where my bed is, and my books, and my Great-Aunt Alma's quilts; it's where I bathe and sleep and dream and rise.... My home is a promise I make to myself when I am to tired to go on. "You can go home soon," I tell myself.... Several months ago, I acted on the promise, leaving the church a little before dark after a long, hard day. Looking out into the parking lot I saw my lone car. I also saw Luther, a homeless man who spends his days walking between the big downtown Atlanta churches in shoes that do not fit. He drinks, and he has lung cancer, and he loves churches."

"'Hello, Luther,'" I said.... I asked him how he was and got the full answer. None of it made sense, but then [his] bottle was empty and things never seemed to get any better for Luther. Finally I wearied of his monologue and said, "Luther, I've got to go home now." No sooner had I said it that than I regretted it. What a thing to say to someone who did not have one!  What an excuse to use with him. The word hung between us for a moment until Luther brushed it aside. "This is my home," he said.'"

Taylor goes on to say, "Home. What a compelling, elusive word that is. What a strong hunger the human heart has for home.... A safe place where one is known and a safe place from which to know the world: a nest, a family, a stable fortress in a vast and often frightening universe."

It is this insight that has changed the way I read and pray this Psalm - it is the Psalm, the prayer, praise, hymn of someone who has been in a storm and needed shelter, a refugee who needed refuge, someone who knows the terror of the night, and the arrows that fly by day. This is the prayer of someone who has longed for the safe space of the turtle shell, a place to crawl inside and wait until its safer out there in the world. This is the prayer of someone whose hunger for the safety of a home is matched only by the shield and buckler of the Lord, who knows what its like to walk among the snakes and not be touched, whose foot is not dashed against the stone, who has felt what it's like under the wings of God's protection, carried by angels to

What begins in this Psalm as the real world problems of war, exile, homelessness ends with a Psalm of praise that it is God, ultimately, who provides protection.

It is God who provides shelter.

It is God who provides a dwelling place.

It is God who provides a sanctuary. Amen.

November 6, 2016; Eastridge Presbyterian Church; Rev. Melodie Jones Pointon