God's 911 - Today's Christian

Following a series of personal and professional setbacks, James, an Ohio small business owner, was visited by a friend. After listening carefully and compassionately, the friend suggested, "Try using God's 911 number. You may find it a great source of comfort and hope."

When the friend left, James immediately opened his Bible and read these words: "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust' " (Ps. 91:1-2).

James read through all sixteen verses of Psalm 91 several times—a powerful reminder that although he was living through a major crisis, he could continue to trust God for daily strength and guidance. Later he thanked his friend.

"After reading and re-reading Psalm 91, I feel less stress and more comfort," James said.

While other Psalms may be better known, Psalm 91 has occupied a special place in the hearts of those who have faced defeat, despair, or danger. Athanasius, 4th-century bishop of Alexandria, Egypt, offered this advice to Marcellinus, a younger, less experienced bishop: "If you desire to establish yourself and others in devotion, to know what confidence is to be reposed in God, and what makes the mind fearless, you will praise God by reciting the ninety-first Psalm." It is the Psalm of comfort and consolation, hope and help for those facing a major trial or who may be in peril.

The death rate was so high that Spurgeon was conducting funerals daily. The long hours trying to comfort the grieving and personal discouragement over the scope of the epidemic left Spurgeon feeling weak, vulnerable, and frightened. He felt it was only a matter of time before he came down with cholera because of his contact with so many of the dying.

"I became weary in body and sick at heart. My friends seemed to be falling one by one, and I felt that I was sickening like those around me." An exhausted Spurgeon was sinking.

But that soon changed. As Spurgeon was returning from conducting yet another funeral service, a flyer posted in a shoemaker's shop window got his attention. The flyer contained sections of Psalm 91, including these heartening words: "You will not fear the terror of night … nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you" (Ps. 91:5-7).

The impact of Psalm 91 upon Spurgeon was dramatic. He wrote: "The effect upon my heart was immediate. I felt secure, refreshed, girt with immortality. I went on with my visitation of the dying in a calm and peaceful spirit; I felt no fear of evil and I suffered no harm. The providence which moved the tradesman to place those verses in his window I gratefully acknowledge, and in the remembrance of its marvelous power, I adore the Lord, my God."

My dear Jim boy. Soon after you read this letter, you will be on your way to the worst sort of danger. Jim, I'm banking on the enclosed copy of the 91st Psalm. The thing that takes the place of fear and worry is the promise of these words. I am staking my faith in these words. I feel sure that God will lead you through this mad experience. I can say no more. I only continue to pray. Goodbye, my dear. God bless you and keep you. I love you more than I can tell you. Dad.

As a veteran of the Spanish-American War, Alex knew the comforting power of Psalm 91:3-5 for those preparing for battle. "Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare … You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day."

Jimmy Stewart returned home a decorated war hero, unharmed even though his record included 20 combat missions. During the height of battle, Stewart said he learned to lean on the words of his tattered copy of Psalm 91, especially verses 1 and 2, which speak of God as a refuge and fortress.

Upon returning home, he told his father: "What a promise for an airman. I placed in His hands the squadron I would be leading. And, as the psalmist promised, I felt myself borne up."

In fact, one of the most compelling images in Psalm 91 is that of God covering the frightened with wings (verse 4)—the inspiration for William Cushing's popular hymn, "Under His Wings."

At 73, Cushing was reflecting on almost 25 years of what could have been considered the end of his ministry. Before reaching his fiftieth birthday, Cushing, a successful pastor in New York, suffered a paralysis that affected his voice. His preaching days were over. But out of the silence, God brought songs to Cushing's heart—he wrote more than 300 hymns and gospel songs, including: "Under his wings I am safely abiding, Though the night deepens and tempests are wild; Still I can trust him—I know he will keep me, He has redeemed me, and I am his child."

Whether the crisis is large or small, whether the emergency is major or minor, turning to God's 911 can bring peace in spite of pain. It's the ultimate song of shelter and security, consolation and confidence; it's a number worth dialing.

A Priceless Autograph
One of my assignments as a volunteer missionary was to document photographically people, places, and events. In 1982 in Buenos Aires, my camera bag was nearly destroyed when a cab I had left it in burst into flames. From that point on, I tried to keep the bag in my possession.

On a subsequent trip to Russia, I had a layover in New York—the perfect reason to visit a dear friend. She sent a town car to the airport to pick me up. When the driver asked to take my bag, I balked.

After the third gesture, I reluctantly handed him my bag. When he returned from the car, I felt I owed him an explanation about my reluctance. I told him about the incident in Argentina. A moment later, tears were streaming down his face. His anguish startled me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," I said.

"You haven't hurt my feelings," he replied. "Yesterday I lay on my bed and pleaded, 'God, send me someone to tell me about Jesus.' And here you are."

In JFK International Airport, at the baggage carousel, he became a member of God's family.

As I settled in the back seat of the car, he pulled a cardboard fan from behind the visor. "Will you autograph this for me? I always ask my important passengers."

"But I'm not an important person," I said.

"Oh, yes, you are," he whispered. "You are the most important person I will ever meet. You showed me the way to Jesus."

—Lola M. Autry