“I lift my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” – David in Psalm 121:1-2 ESV
He lifts his cup of bitter brown that burns the sides of his mouth. That God could call that an adulterer His own makes the Gospel hard to choke down. How can stealing warrant death and sex bring a crown?
The salivating mouth of an atheist howl brings hot air to his neck. “And that feels real,” he thinks to himself. “That feel reals to me.”
“He will not let your foot be moved: he who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.” – David in Psalm 121:3-4 ESV
She holds her newborn in her arms and prays for his heart to beat. Pale and lifeless like a doll, but soft like he should be. That God could say that she could call if ever was a need. She needs Him now, the One Who Won’t Slumber, to raise her son from sleep.
And Spirit waits for her arms to raise before He takes him home. Between He and her, the soul hangs on so she can let him go. “And he feels real,” she cries over him. “He’s still here with me.”
“The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night.” – David in Psalm 121:5-6 ESV
He haunts the streets he used to drive to punish himself some more. Flashbacks of the life he had before she hit the floor. He’s been sober for eighteen months, but he swears it still seeps through his pores. He wanes between clarity’s hope and the haze of if’s before.
The arrow blinks left as he waits with his life in a mirror’s rear view. His right grip steadied by Salvations’s shadow instead of holding and hitting like before. “I won’t go back,” he resolves to himself. “I don’t know those streets anymore.”
“The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.” – David in Psalm 121:7-8 ESV
She moves through the crowd invisible to most and mostly to herself. She’s prey for the hungry because she’s so lonely. “Use Me” is the target on her chest. She closes her eyes and goes somewhere else when her song makes it’s way to her ears. She parts the curtain that makes sure she’s certain to never feel wholesome again.
The money is empty and the invites are scary and she doesn’t know what else to do. Even in filth and all of the shame, He won’t let the wolves get through. “I know You’re there,” she whispers to Him. “I think I can still feel You.”