7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
I thought of this scripture often when I was pregnant with my last baby. So much so, that I would just write it down on scrap paper or whatever was around. The day I went in for my c-section, these words were playing over and over in my mind. My surgery was very unpleasant. I lost too much blood, and I got sick. I asked the doctor if I was dying. I rambled on about how my husband couldn’t take care of the kids without me. It is kind of funny now, but at the time I was so terrified. Of course, all was well, and my big red headed baby came into this world kicking and screaming. But I still can’t get those words out of my head. They give me peace during troubled times.
Even if you try to get away, if you run, if you hide, he is there. At my darkest moments, in the worst of places, he has been there. The dark isn’t even dark to him. It shines. I think of the gutters of the world, of all those who have run from their faith, of people buried by drugs, pulled down by depression, lost in their sickness. I imagine God’s spirit there. Urging that person to just make one tiny move; just look up and whisper his name. He is there; his light is there.