A reflection of Psalm 91
There are days when the world feels too loud for jokes.
The headlines carry war, division, fear, and the slow erosion of freedoms we once assumed were permanent. The ground feels less steady. The future feels less certain.
And the little clown in me—the one who usually believes laughter can soften almost anything—finds herself mourning.
Not because hope is gone.
But because peace matters too much to pretend this doesn’t hurt.
Psalm 91 doesn’t ask us to deny danger. It invites us to dwell.
“Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” (Psalm 91:1)
Protection, here, is not earned.
It is not performed.
It is not proven by volume, certainty, or strength.
It is positional.
To dwell is to stay.
To remain.
To practice presence when the world feels unrecognizable.
This is protection without performance.
Not faith that shouts.
Not hope that rushes to fix.
Not peace that pretends everything is fine.
Just presence—steady, near, covering.
The promise of Psalm 91 is not that trouble will disappear, but that God does not. The shadow does not move. The refuge does not close. The shelter does not require us to be unafraid—only willing to come close.
So today, the clown in me removes her red shoes.
She sits on holy ground—
trusting the same God who once said, “Stay.”
Trusting that what marks the door also guards the dwelling.
She mourns for peace honestly.
And still—quietly—she dwells in hope.
Today’s practice is simple:
not fixing, not proving, not performing—
just dwelling in His Presence.
—-
God of refuge and nearness,
When the world feels unstable and peace feels fragile, help me to dwell rather than strive. Teach me to trust Your presence more than my ability to understand what is happening around me.
Let Your covering be enough today.
Amen.
With Love And A Multitude Of Prayers,
Chelle
defygravitywithoutwings.com 