In the Shadow of the Cross

I got distracted once in church. Again. It wasn’t lack of sleep, or wondering what to fix for dinner, or any other equally silly reason, it was my purse. I glanced down where it was sitting on the floor and saw it standing open. When I got my pen out, I forgot to zip it back up.

My mother’s warning flashed through my mind. “Zip up that purse! Someone could take your wallet right out of there!” Bless her heart—she was always warning me about that. I’ve actually been in a grocery store with her when she tapped some stranger on the shoulder to issue the same warning. (I always managed to show a lot of interest in the canned foods or the box of cereal on the shelf, hoping they wouldn’t know we were related.)

This time, I didn’t zip it back up. I knew it was safe. Friends who would never even think of taking my wallet surrounded me. That was a pretty comfortable feeling and it made my mind wander to how I feel when I’m in church. Safe. Comfortable. Surrounded by love. Those feelings don’t always follow me out the church door, but they should. I wear my seat belt, I don’t do stupid things, I don’t go to places that will put me in danger, but my serenity is often challenged. Stress, worries about life in general, forgetting that God is in control and He has a plan, and just dealing with daily struggles makes me feel less than peaceful.

Psalms 91 speaks to comfort, and safety, and love. It talks about being under the cover of God’s wings and covered with His feathers. I’m going to try and remember that. I’m going to try and remember that my mom’s warning applies only to my purse and not to my life. I’m going to go about my business leaving myself “unzipped,” unafraid something bad will befall me. Because, bottom line, I’m under the protection of the cross and I mustn’t forget that.