Kept beneath His wings
“He shall cover thee with His feathers, and under His wings shalt thou trust.”
In autumn’s chill light, the ancient words fall like quiet rain upon my listening ear. In the silence, I can almost hear the rustle of those feathers unseen. Can feel the warmth and comfort of the wings that surround, that protect…
On an ordinary day, an ordinary man arises. A simple, country farmer, he sets out for the fields that spread across Plains where Indian tribes once roamed. It’s an ordinary life, yet noble, for it is the farmer man who sees what can be, and plants his seeds down in faith and in hope. Tills the soil, prays for rain, waits for harvest, feeds a nation. Faith encrusted with dust of earth, caked in the sweat of honest labor.
Perhaps we shall never know exactly what happened, but tragedy falls on this day. Multiple calls that ring on, unanswered. Failure to appear when expected. No tractor. No drill. No handsome, young farmer, and alarm bells are ringing like klaxons. Fear rises.
It is nighttime when he finds him. The anxious father who’s gone searching the fields sees his boy. He’s waving from the ground where he’s fallen, near freezing, with the clothes torn from his broken body. And Love covers.
The love that gives its own shirt for the warming, it waits right there in that field. As emergency workers are summoned and gather; as the farmer is carried up into the sky, love attends, prayers rise without ceasing. (For groaning, thank God, is a powerful plea, and prayers can fall down in droplets. Amen.)
That was four days ago. For the young farmer and his wife, it’s been one miracle after another after another. The road to recovery’s still long, but they’re hopeful. He’s alive.
Now, back to those feathers, and the wings. In my mind’s eye, that field, that man, and death that’s come calling. As darkness falls and temperatures drop, I can see them, very angels robed in light who attend. And overhead? A pair of vast, spreading wings cov’ring all, and the air is suffused with a Presence.
He is Love.
“For He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.”
The Shepherd Boy’s words thrum with power, and my heart knows at once that it’s true. When we are in danger, He is there. When we are in need, He is near. We’re under His dear, loving eye every moment, and we’re safe and secure ‘neath those wings.
P.S. – Even in tragedy, there are such powerful elements in this story; a father’s searching, covering love. A young wife’s devotion. The Jesus-in-skin kind of love by my hometown community to bear up and comfort their own. It gives me joy. And, of course, the blessed words of the Psalms. It’s all true.
(By the way. Even if you don’t know Brian and Amanda Miller or their families, I am sure that your prayers would be welcome.)