Last week, my wife gave birth to our third daughter.

As I held this sweet and tiny bundle today, she sneezed several times, creating snotted nose and running eyes. Unfazed by such substances (Super-Dad I am!), I began swiping and wiping “sans Scotties“. My daughter held stone-still as I cleaned her nose.  But my movement toward her eyes caused a forceful flinch. An audible word escaped my mouth:


Gently, I urged her toward stillness, “You are safe, my dear one.”

And she took me at my word.

As she stilled, I re-approached. She locked her gaze on me and watched intently as I de-gunked her eyes.  Not a jump, nor a jitter.

Her small shining eyes upon me made wonder:

  • What can she possibly grasp on this day?
  • Can she know with confidence that her Dad will do her no damage?
  • How certain can she be that this still-blurred figure holding her will bring healing rather than harm?

Truths be told: Very little, she cannot, and uncertain at best.

Those dark reflective eyes displayed my face and forced forward a question: How still can YOU lie?

The everything-Maker and forever-Father envisions for us dreams that dwarf our drafts.  He then moves, absolutely aware of what is required to transport us from our “here” to His “there”.  Intimate inspiration, divine discipline, and everything in between: He will use every means necessary to move us.  God’s touch is precise, His nudging as nuanced as need be. He can wield the stick, tend the heart, or de-gunk the eyes, whatever it takes to poke and prod us toward our destiny of overflowing and overwhelming life.

And our “forever issue” is trust.

  • Can I trust Him?
  • Will He hurt me?
  • Does He have my best interests in mind?

Today, my friends, take this to heart: You are safe in God’s hands.

In fact, a more secure spot does not exist.

Rest in it. Revel in it. Look upward at the still-blurred Presence of your Creator, and dare to take Him at His word:

For I know the plans I have for you: Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Call on me and come to me and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. (Jeremiah 29:11-13)

Editing this post earlier, my nine-day-old daughter was still in my arms, silently studying my face. Was she certain of my love for her? After barely a week, she cannot know for sure. Yet her peaceful expression spoke to the childlike nature of faith: Here she was in her entirety, in my hands, awaiting me to lovingly touch and teach as I see fit.

That is what good fathers do.

That is what YOUR Father is moving to do today.

Hold still. Trust Him.

“You are safe, my dear one.”









6 thoughts on “Safe

  1. I really appreciated this today, Jay. Sometimes, I feel like a restless, squirmy child in God’s arms, wanting to be put down, unable to hold still and trust that in His arms, I am safe. But I’m learning more and more to just be still in His arms – to allow His strong embrace to calm my restless heart, and trust His plans for my life.

    • Thanks for the reply, Jill.

      I too am learning that “being still” is one of the hardest movements to learn. It’s not about passivity, an attitude viewed as lazy. It IS about surrender and submission, attitudes that involve all sorts of inner war to arrive at. It’s ironic that we can arrive at this place of peace covered in self-inflicted wounds, while at the same time it is possible to arrive here with just a breath and a prayer.

      I’m trying to take the easier road a bit more often!

  2. Jay, I came across the photo you used in this article and really loved it. I work at Pregnancy Care Clinic in the San Diego area and would like to use this photo on our annual fundraising banquet invitation. Do you know who owns the photo? Thank you for your assistance!

  3. Pingback: He Came…. | Being Woven


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