I don’t need a rest from God. What I need is a rest from everything that is not God.

Truth is the thing that protects me from chasing the stuff that will rather quickly end up chasing me.

I am not big enough to be my own refuge, but my ego thinks itself big enough to be a refuge from that reality.

How many enemies were headed my way whose battle lines I never saw and whose piercing arrows never flew in my direction because God destroyed them before I ever caught sight of them, or they of me? More than I can count, but never more than God can destroy.

Any refuge other than God is probably something that I should seek refuge from rather than seek refuge in.

I am terrified by the horrors that lurk all around me. But it would do me good to remember that those same horrors are terrified by the God who resides within me.

Suddenly finding myself imprisoned in the ruins of the fortresses I created, I realize that that which I built to protect me has now become a labyrinth that is set to destroy me. And laying spent in the rubble, I finally realize that there is only one fortress and I cannot create it because there is only one God.

Circumstances can manufacture the materials, but it’s my attitude that builds the wall.

Any refuge that I create is something akin to a cardboard box in the rain. The harder the rain, the more boxes I go through.