Lord, I Believeنموونە

I believe . . .I’m never alone

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?

Psalm 139:7

If I asked you to describe a time when you felt incredibly alone—not just absent from people, but separated in mind, body, and spirit from anyone who cared about you, what would you say?

I experienced this type of aloneness in the Narita airport in Tokyo. I’d traveled from Columbia, South Carolina, to Yokosuka, Japan, to visit my daughter. After ten fun-filled days, she drove me an hour away to catch my flight home. We hugged goodbye, then hugged again. After a final squeeze, I watched her taillights disappear into a sea of cars.

All went well—until it didn’t. After the plane (with me on it) sat on the tarmac for thirty minutes, the captain announced they had “a slight mechanical problem.” Slight or serious, we were getting ready to fly fourteen hours over the Pacific Ocean and Alaska. Take all the time you need, I thought.

As the minutes passed, “Remain seated with your seatbelts fastened,” became, “You may unbuckle and move freely about the cabin,” which became, “We’re allowing you to deplane—and please take your belongings with you.”

In the terminal, I couldn’t connect to the airport’s Wi-Fi, and my phone’s SIM card didn’t allow me to make calls. I had no way to let my husband know I’d be delayed. By now, my daughter was home and in bed. She wouldn’t suspect anything was amiss until late the next day, when I failed to arrive home.

As I pondered my predicament, tears sprang to my eyes. Seven thousand miles from home and surrounded by a crush of people speaking languages I couldn’t understand, a deep sense of aloneness settled over me.

David the shepherd never flew to Japan, but he also experienced a profound sense of loneliness. While I was safe in a relatively comfortable airport, he was forced to flee from the murderous King Saul. He left behind everyone he loved and struck out for the desert. He moved constantly, sleeping in caves and clefts of the rock. God had promised to make him king, yet for years, he lived as a fugitive. “Turn to me and be gracious,” he prayed in Psalm 25:16, “for I am lonely and afflicted.”

Stripped of the security of home, family, and friends, David turned to the one who had promised never to leave or forsake him. “Hear my voice when I call, Lord,” he prayed. “Be merciful to me and answer me.” (Psalm 27:7). In response to his prayer, David received sweet confirmation of God’s presence. “Though my father and mother forsake me,” he declared, “the Lord will receive me” (v. 10).

God spoke to my heart. Where can you go from my Spirit? Where can you flee from my presence? If you go up to the heavens, I’m there; if you make your bed in the depths, I’m there. If you rise on the wings of the dawn, if you settle on the far side of the sea, even there my hand will guide you, my right hand will hold you fast (Psalm 139: 6-10).

David wasn’t alone in the caves of Adullam, and I wasn’t alone in the airport in Narita. We’re not alone in doctor’s offices, unemployment lines, or at home. God walks with us through the loneliness of divorce, disease, and disappointment. He is nearer than a whisper and as close as a prayer. He holds us when we sleep, and when we awaken, He is with us. God was with David the shepherd, and He was with me.

It took a few hours, but the mechanics made the repairs, and my plane departed. I awakened with the coastline of California in view and the words of John Newton’s beloved hymn rising in my heart. “’Tis grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.”

Embrace the Truth: No matter where we go, we never leave God’s presence. He is always with us.

Declare Your Faith: Lord, I believe, as the psalmist wrote, you surround me with your presence. You’ve promised never to leave me or forsake me, so I may boldly say, “The Lord is my helper. Of whom shall I be afraid?” Sometimes, though, I forget this. I grow frightened and feel alone. When this happens, remind me you are as close as a prayer. I love you, kind Father. Amen.

*This devotion is taken from Lori Hatcher’s book Lord, I Believe, 60 Devotions for Your Troubled Heart.