We Will Not Be Crushed

Psalm 121:

I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

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.

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.

The Lord will keep you from all evil; He will keep your life.

The Lord will keep your going out and coming in from the time forth and forevermore.

I was convinced this was all a bunch of hullabaloo. It’s linked to the election. It’s like the flu. Everyone needs to chill out.

And then a very intimate writing retreat I was chosen for was cancelled, and all I saw was red.

With each cancelled event, I got angrier and more agitated.

One day, in an attempt to calm myself down, I took a bath and came across a video of a neighborhood in Italy. Men, women, and children all coming out to their balconies as the sun descended to her rest, and they sang together - building community in the midst of isolation.

I felt a small nudge - it started in my ribcage and worked its way up my throat, and eventually I was weeping as I watched Italians make the most of a horrific situation.

People were dying around the world, and I was an angsty teenager moping about a couple missed concerts.

Ah, there’s your privilege, my conscience whispered to me. It’s showing again, and it’s ugly.

Since that day, I’ve recounted all the ways I am privileged - and ungrateful. My greatest grievances were a postponed writing workshop and two rescheduled concerts - oh, and I could no longer get food and eat it outside of my home.

Ah, there’s your privilege, my conscience whispered to me. It’s showing again, and it’s ugly.

Grandparents are being called Home, globally, and countries with little to zero infrastructure are being infected by this disease, and I was pouting about my social life being slightly altered.

Friends of mine have become unemployed in the midst of our country trying to buckle down and prevent more damage, yet I sit in the comfort of my home and continue to work 40 hours a week. And yet, I was put off by closed nail salons.

The singing Italians shifted my entire perspective and begged an unsettling question - just when did I allow my privilege to overcome my heart, and what I know to be true about the world?

We live in a country who will readily refill shelves, whose medical supplies will likely be replenished or donated, and we are led by a government who, for the most part, cares about its people and makes decisions to reflect that compassion.

We are citizens of a country who provide unemployment when jobs cannot be worked, with bosses and directors who ensure working remotely is an option, if feasible, and many landlords, utility companies, and loan departments are offering grace and forbearance where it’s needed.

I do not wonder where my food will come from, or if it will come at all. I rest well at night knowing my lights and heat will remain running, even as I sleep. I know my job is secure and will continue to be, no matter the length of this quarantine.

My life is riddled with privilege. 

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In Psalm 121:5, it says, “The Lord is my keeper. . .” In Hebrew, the word for Keeper is Shamar, which is translated as to keep or preserve. 

He will not remove a job without providing.

He will not empty a shelf without providing.

He will keep economies moving and families growing and science flourishing - He will preserve us.

But what happens when it seems like He doesn’t provide? I’ve been on the other end, when I’ve been waiting for His provision. Sometimes preservation does not look like what we expect to look like, or what we want it to look like. But we know God’s character. He preserves us always by bringing us near to Him, whether in life or in death.

He keeps us, He preserves us, He reminds us of just what we truly have and should be thankful for…

You might disagree with me, but I don’t think COVID-19 is God’s design. I think it is the result of a broken world, and as populations are hit by this virus and His kids are affected by it in its various forms, He weeps alongside us.

I also think He sings loudly with the Italians, and rocks slowly with the new mom in the hospital cradling her newborn. I think He crunches numbers next to the dad whose work is not culturally deemed “essential,” and brushes His hand across the primary colored graduation gown the high school senior wonders if she’ll get to wear. He plants and harvests fields with the hardworking farmer, and delivers food, toiletries, and other essentials with the overworked truck driver.

He soothes the woman who frets from home, wondering how long this will last and if her mental illness can handle it. He cooks mac-n-cheese beside the babysitter who provides care tirelessly so essential workers can continue to show up. He resuscitates and administers meds and responds first alongside the nurses, the doctors, the firefighters and EMTs.

When shamar is used, when the Lord says He will preserve, we are literally being told - I won’t allow anything to crush you. 

To my privilege, He says - I won’t allow it to crush you.

To our worry, He responds - I won’t allow it to crush you.

To the panic, He whispers - I won’t allow it to crush you.

The one thing I want to walk away with, and never lose my grip on again, is that He keeps us, He preserves us, He reminds us of just what we truly have and should be thankful for, and He’s got it all in His hands. 

Hallelujah.

Steph Duff wants to live in a world where every human, whether small or regular-sized, learns to use their voice and is seen and known. When she's not traveling and story telling with Back2Back Ministries, you'll likely find her drinking excessive cups of coffee, with her nose in a book, or daydreaming about India. Her favorite scripture is Habakkuk 1:5, and she prays for a world in which Jesus is the name on every lip. Learn a little more about her love for semi-colons, what stirs her blood, and the yearnings of her heart over at www.stephaniduff.wordpress.com.



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