on August 2, 2025 by TaeHun Yoon

As I settle quietly into my chair, preparing to read Scripture, I open my heart with this prayer from Ignatius of Loyola:

Teach us, good Lord, to serve you as you deserve:
To give and not to count the cost;
To fight and not to heed the wounds;
To toil and not to seek for rest;
To labor and not to ask for any reward,
Except that of knowing we do your will;
Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I begin my time of reflection by softly singing verses 1 and 4 of George Bennard’s 1913 hymn, “The Old Rugged Cross”:

On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suffering and shame…
For a world of lost sinners was slain.
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down.

As the melody fades in my heart, I take three slow, deep breaths. I pause. I center myself in the presence of God.

---

Lectio (Reading the Word)
I slowly read Psalm 91:1–16, turning through various translations.
The voice of Moses echoes with striking images:

Those who dwell in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty…

Words rise from the page—
the hunter’s snare, the flying arrows, the deadly pestilence, lions and serpents…
This is no peaceful meadow. It is a battlefield wrapped in divine protection.

I imagine a priest reciting this psalm to soldiers before a great battle.
These are not just poetic verses—
they are promises of strength and shelter spoken into the face of danger.

---

Meditatio (Meditating on the Word)
My heart lingers on verses 14–16, and I hear God’s voice whisper back:

“Because you are devoted to me, I will rescue you.
I will protect you because you know my name.
When you call, I will answer.
I will be with you in trouble.
I will deliver you and honor you.
I will satisfy you with long life and show you my salvation.”

I picture myself at a quiet mountain campsite, high above the chaos.
The air is clean, the silence deep.
No wild animal, no arrow, no fog of fear can touch me here.
I am safe in God’s tent.

I remember King David’s mistake—counting his army, seeking security in numbers.
I resist that temptation now.
I surrender control and let God determine the outcome.
His love is my stronghold. His presence is my base camp.

---

Oratio (Responding to the Word)
I respond in prayer, lifted by God’s promise.

“Because he has set his love upon Me,
Therefore I will deliver him.”

The Hebrew image is tender—like a dog pressing against its master,
or a child clinging tightly to a parent.

God doesn’t wait for the trouble to pass.
He steps into it with us, walks beside us,
delivers us not just from danger—but through it.

I remember moments of grief—
when sorrow carved space for grace,
when brokenness became the doorway to beauty.

---

Contemplatio (Resting in the Word)
Now I walk in silence—
in my imagination, beside a quiet lake.
No words are needed. No thoughts.
Just being. Just breathing. Just resting.

Here, in the shelter of the Most High,
my anxious heart finds peace.
There is no performance.
Only presence.
Only love.

---

Manifestatio (Living the Word)
As I return to my daily life,
I carry with me the calm of this sacred encounter.

Sunday worship becomes my holy mountain—
where music, Scripture, and community lift me back to God.

This week, I walk as a pilgrim—
attentive, grounded, steady.
Through toil and uncertainty,
I carry the peace of Psalm 91.

For His glory.
For His name.
Amen.