Change

I’ve been thinking a lot the last few weeks about change.  Change is hard.  We are creatures of habit and comfort.  Change, while inevitable, is daunting. The unknown is like walking into a cloud of mist seeking the horizon.  As an adult I’ve had to train myself to ‘go with the flow’ more, it is not my first instinct. 

My son’s best friend is moving.  On his first day of fifth grade, they will pull out of town with a U-Haul headed for Texas. As you can imagine, this has been incredibly difficult for him to accept and lots of tears have been shed. As a pastor we are taught to anticipate that we will move several times throughout our ministry.  This was one of the hardest things for me to accept when I felt called because I didn’t ever want to put my family through the hardship of moving.  I’ve been the family that had to move away and leave all my friends behind and start over…and I’ve been the heartbroken congregant when a beloved pastor was called elsewhere.  I have considered how hard it may be for my child to be the one to move.  However, it’s a new sensation to watch my child be the one who feels left behind, abandoned, and alone.  Add this to the list of things that no one writes about in pregnancy and parenting books!

It took years for me to admit to my parents that moving from the town where my mother grew up to Bedford when I began middle school was the best thing they could have done for me.  They knew it was the right thing to do, but I resented it.  Now, I can’t imagine my life any other way.  The opportunities I had and the people I met guided me to where I am today.  But it’s hard to hold the hands of a ten-year-old and make them believe that it will all be OK. That the broken heart will mend, that life will still be full.  I can point to the picture of my best friend and me at 7 years old next to the one of us at 35 years old and say, “See. We are still close.”  But that doesn’t make him feel any better about walking into fifth grade without his best friend on the first day of school.  Just as  I desired for myself at that age, I wish I could enclose him in a bubble and stop time so that everything remained the same and nothing was hard, and nothing hurt. 

Isn’t that why the disciples shut themselves away behind locked doors and windows after Jesus’ death?  It wasn’t just because they feared for their lives (surely, they did). But also, they were grieving this life-altering change.  They had left homes, jobs, families…to follow someone who was now gone. No amount of explanation or assurance from Jesus before his death could truly prepare them for what was ahead of them.   Everything they thought they knew was shattered.  What were they supposed to do without their mentor to guide them?  How were they supposed to go on without their friend? At least, if they were all in one place together, with the shape-shifting world outside the locked windows, they could maintain their bubble of comfort with one another.  And if they couldn’t do that, well they could just go back to the familiar ways of life—like when they went fishing and Jesus met them on the shore.  To see the resurrected Jesus would have brought joy to their hearts, but short-lived jubilation, because he couldn’t stay.  Things still had to change.  They still had to walk a different path without him physically beside them.  They were required to split up and go their separate ways to spread the gospel message. Exciting, yes…but also intimidating and heartbreaking.

All of this is to say, we know that things are always changing, whether we like it or not.  Whatever seismic or miniscule shifts you are experiencing, I will pray for the peace of Christ to mend your broken heart.  I will hope that the grief, fear, or anger you might be feeling will dissipate over time, so that you can be open to the hope that comes with the dawn each morning.  That you will be able to look back and reflect on the Holy Spirit’s movement in these moments and trust that God’s hand is at work, even now, because God is good and always working for our good, too.  I will pray these things for you, and ask that you pray these things for us, too.

The Waters

On our way home from Bedford last Friday, Kemper and I parked the car and hiked down to a little water fall off the Blue Ridge Parkway.  We sat on some rocks at the top of the falls, where the water was just starting to cascade from the plateau above us.  Kemper enjoyed finding brightly colored leaves to drop in the stream and watch them travel down past us and over the falls.  Each time a leaf would dance and spin down the  currents only to be pressed beneath the water and under a rock ledge.  After a few seconds of this however, the leaf would pop back up and spin back into the current and on its way.

Today, I am thinking that is a pretty good metaphor for life.  How often do we find ourselves skipping happily along only to find ourselves suddenly overwhelmed by something that seems to crush us, force us into darkness in a blinding rush.  An illness, a profound loss, an unexpected obstacle or cost.   Like that bright red leaf, we fear we might be lost under the weight forever. 

But the beauty of God’s promise to us is that we will always be carried on a current that floats us back to the top. God controls the stream and its flow. God wants us to dance, to spin, to thrive, carried by his love. 

Isaiah 43:1-3, 4

But now thus says the Lord,
   he who created you, O Jacob,
   he who formed you, O Israel:
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
   I have called you by name, you are mine.
2 When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
   and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
   and the flame shall not consume you.

 Because you are precious in my sight,
   and honored, and I love you…

Fireflies

God brings light

to banish the darkness.

A million fireflies

flash each day,

if I would only

Be still

and watch for them.

LTM 9/4/20

Ricochet

Ricochet of bullets

Reverberations far and wide

Resentments overtakes us

Reason seems to hide

Recoil makes rivulets

Reversing as the tide

­­­­­­­Revisiting humanity curates

Reconciliation over pride

LTM 7/14/24

Romans 5:9-11

Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life. But more than that, we even boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.

What are the odds?

Have you ever seen the television show, Young Sheldon? It is a spin-off from the widely popular show The Big Bang Theory. Young Sheldon follows the childhood of the character Sheldon Cooper, a theoretical physicist.  Sheldon lives with his family in a middle-class Texan neighborhood in the 80s. He has an older brother and a twin sister. His father is the local football coach, and his mother is a devoted Christian woman.  Sheldon’s Mee-maw (played by the amazing Annie Potts) lives across the street. Sheldon is a genius, extremely smart but socially awkward with any number of phobias to choose from, particularly germs, dirt, and dogs.  At the beginning of the series, he is only 9 years old and entering high school where it is hoped that he will be more intellectually challenged.  Hilarity often ensures.  I’m watching the show with my son who is of the same age as Sheldon, and I am delighted to be watching a family friendly sitcom we can both enjoy…they don’t make those much anymore.  We are only in season two (so no spoilers) but I hope it remains appropriate so we can enjoy it together. 

In one episode the family receives word that a young teenager in the community has been killed in a car accident.  This shakes the faith of his devout southern Baptist mother to the core.  She confesses to her mother that she cannot wrap her mind around the patent, pithy saying that “its all in God’s plan.”  Furthermore, she says, “how could it be that their daughter is ‘in a better place,’ what could be better than living her life at home with her family?”  I’ve felt those same feelings a lot since last summer and the loss of my dear friend.  How could any place be better than at home raising her two daughters? 

At the end of the episode, Sheldon approaches his mom on the porch; expressing that he is scared because his mother isn’t acting like herself.  He looks up at the sky and the following conversation ensues:

Sheldon: Did you know that if gravity were slightly more powerful the universe would collapse into a ball?

Mom: I did not.

Sheldon: Also, if gravity were slightly less powerful, the universe would fly apart and there would be no stars or planets?

Mom: Where are you going with this, Sheldon?

Sheldon: It’s just that gravity is precisely as strong as it needs to be. And if the ratio of the electromagnetic force to the strong force wasn’t one percent, life wouldn’t exist. What are the odds that would happen all by itself?

Mom: Why are you trying to convince me to believe in God? You don’t believe in God.

Sheldon: I don’t. But the precision of the universe at least makes it logical to conclude there is a Creator.

Mom: Baby, I appreciate what you’re trying to do but logic is here (points to her mind) and my problem is in here (points to her heart).

Sheldon: Well, there are five billion people on this planet and you’re the perfect mom for me. What are the odds of that?

At that she hugs Sheldon and says, “Thank you Lord for this little boy.”  To which Sheldon replies, “I knew I could fix it.”

I don’t know how the universe was created for certain.  And I don’t know a lick about the science behind most things. We often say that we need only look to creation to believe that God exists, and Sheldon points that out to his mom too.  But the real sign of the Creator’s existence for Mary is in the people around her. I wonder if we shouldn’t be taking more time to pay attention and seek God in each other. For there to be billions of people on the planet and our lives intersect with certain people in specific places and times, molding and shaping our lives and faith.  What are the odds of that? 

“The Holiness of No”

“As my grandmother would say, ‘put some greens on that plate.’ Move your body. Drink some water. Learn the holiness of ‘no.’”-Dr. Thelma Bryant

The above directives from Dr. Thelma Bryant are extremely valuable as we navigate life. When exploring the narrative of Jesus calming the storm, we considered in our worship all the things that weigh heavily on us. We talked about how Jesus didn’t say, “there is nothing to be afraid of,” but rather that we cannot escape the wind and waves of life and so we must trust in the God who is present to us and powerful in the face of life’s storms.

I was thinking about how even though we must rely on God, we are not expected to be entirely passive. And taking care of these vessels that God has given us to carry our Spirit is vital. So, in the days and weeks to come I challenge us to be mindful of what we put into our bodies. I’m a sucker for sweets but I do also strive to put something green on my plate these days! Move your body, which is quickly followed by stay hydrated! In these extremely hot days pay attention to what your body is telling you. You don’t have to be a knot on a log, but don’t drive yourself to heat stroke either!

And finally, learn the holiness of ‘no.’ The biggest lesson of surviving this life, and perhaps the hardest achievement unlocked is that of setting boundaries. To learn when to say no when you mean it, because a no here is a yes somewhere else. Determine what you can live with so that you can live well. These determinations can build our strength physically, mentally, and emotionally so that when the wind and waves do come—while we are trusting the Lord to calm the storm around us, we can be better prepared to center ourselves.

Sharing “Shadows”

Another moment of Zen, this one brought to you from our Thursday June 20 concert by David LaMotte. Enjoy!

https://youtu.be/jYAuPnLGmP0?si=Ryg38QNTTGhRKgUF

Moment of Zen

https://youtube.com/shorts/-qEDGaeearw?si=Mz80y1GUEkEQ0my7

Jewels of the sky

One of my favorite things about spring turning to summer is the arrival of ruby-throated hummingbirds! I have loved these creatures since I was a little girl and one of the first poems I ever wrote was about them.  When I was a teenager, we had four hummingbirds that zoomed around our deck and I named them Lucy, Ricky, Fred, and Ethel.  I think perhaps from a young age I felt a kinship with these birds.  They are just tiny torpedoes of energy.  I too zoom around, fiercely protect what is mine, and have an affinity for sugar water. 

Isn’t it amazing that God created  these little jewels of the sky?  So much attention given to something so small, and honestly so fast that we rarely get a good, long look at them.  It reminds me that if God would give so much care to the smallest bird, how much more interest does God take in us? God gave hummingbirds exactly what they need, how much more does God do for us?  How fortunate we are to have such an ingenious, artistic, loving Creator!

Its A Small World

The Presbyterian world is tiny…which I just love.  Yesterday I had the pleasure of participating in an installation service for my friend Rev. Crystal Varner Parker at Providence Forge Presbyterian Church.  Our New Testament professor from Union Presbyterian Seminary, the Rev. Dr. Frances Taylor Gench delivered the sermon at the service.  I adore Frances.  She was a wonderful teacher; always available to us not only in the classroom but also in supporting our personal lives.  As a professor, Frances invited me into the gospels as a female scholar and highlighted angles of Jesus’ ministry I had not yet considered.  As a preacher, Frances embodies a beautiful balance of powerful presence and deep humility.  She is at once witty and wise, kind and convicted. 

Yesterday, Frances and I discovered a wonderful connection.  Frances was an intern here at New Providence under Rev. Tom Biggs in 1980. She spoke so warmly of her time here and how much she loved the people of New Providence.  She has over the years kept the church on her radar and has celebrated your triumphs and grieved your obstacles.  She told me that after the long search for an installed minister, she was so glad to know that I was serving here. You could have knocked me over with a feather.  

I want you to know that you had a significant impact on the ministry of a young, aspiring female seminary student who became a professor of biblical interpretation and authored six books! This church helped to form the life of a woman who would forge the way for my generation of women in biblical scholarship and pastoral ministry, a woman that so many of us look up to with great admiration! And now I am here, serving in a pulpit where she stood, and learned and felt supported feeling blessed and supported as I continue to grow and serve.  What a gift you are, New Providence! 

Helpless

There are days when being a parent is the most helpless feeling in the world.  When my baby is sick, I wish nothing more than to take his discomfort into my own body to save him from it all.  While simultaneously praying I do not also succumb to illness while taking care of him.  In the middle of tearful trips to the bathroom and fever-muddled dreams, I prayed for the Lord just to break the fever, soothe his stomach, allow him rest.  If Jesus can spit in dirt and bring sight to a blind man, surely my cool compresses and fluid ministrations could heal with the Spirit’s power.  Alas, we are still in the throws of this god-forsaken virus today. 

There are days when being a pastor is the most helpless feeling in the world.  I send cards and deliver meals just like everyone else because I literally have no idea what else to do when some shocking tragedy, loss, or need for medical attention arises.  While Holy Spirit fell upon all people, ordination did not grant me special dispensation to answer all of the painful questions of the world.  I don’t know why so many people do not walk this earth well into old age.  I don’t know why there is still no cure for cancer. I don’t know why all of the horrible “-isms” still exist in this century.  I admittedly often throw up my hands and say, “Come, Lord Jesus! Emmanuel, return to walk among us and turn the tides.”

We often liken God to a parent.  God is called Father. God is compared to a Mother Hen protecting her brood by Jesus in Matthew at Luke.  God  came into the world in human form to experience the same suffering as the aching creation.  Through Jesus, God deeply understands our pain and suffering, and grieves it with us.  I wonder if God felt helpless under the assurance of free will when he expelled Adam and Eve from the garden.  Or when the Israelites continued to fall short of true worship.  Or when Jesus cried out to him in the garden for the cup to be taken from him.  Or upon the final cries, “God why have you forsaken me?” 

In truth, I am helpless to much of the world’s turning.  And so are you.  But I hope we can find ways to trust that God has not, in fact, forsaken us, even in our hardest days.  May God strengthen us through the Holy Spirit.  May we trust that we do not walk in this life alone.  May we hear the words, you are loved, you are loved, you are loved. 

“In My Day”

Last night I confessed a victory from the kitchen to my girlfriends about the moment when you sneak a vegetable into the meal and your child does not notice.  I added a few of the turnips I picked up from Verdant Acres into the taco meat. Victory is mine! One of my friends has a son who is about a year and a half old. She said this is also her life. He only likes broccoli if it is roasted, any other way and he just throws it at her. 

This became a conversation about “in my day…” comparisons.  Such as,  “in my day you cleaned your plate no matter what” or “in my day I only drank from the water hose.”  Our generation’s “I walked up hill to school both ways in the snow.”  It is amusing to think how much things have changed over the years…I mean, I see kids carrying water bottles to school as big as their bodies! We never did that in elementary school, nor did we have snack time after kindergarten ( I actually love that they have snack time now)…but these days kids only want Spring Water in their Stanley cups, with Bento lunch boxes carrying fancy lunches.  What happened to metal lunch boxes with sandwiches in plastic bags, and a thermos of lukewarm Kool-Aid inside?

I wonder what your “in my day” comparisons are?  And if you were to ponder this question considering  your faith tradition and your church life, what comes to mind? A lot of times these comparisons are meant to say to someone in the younger generation, “you don’t know how good you have it.”  But, when we use this language considering the church it is often in reference to something that seems lost to history, a tradition that has fallen away.  Or to shake our heads as we say, “well this is the way we’ve always done it.”

Some examples:

 “It used to be 300 people here on Sunday, easily.” 

“We used to have live greenery at Christmas, and a tree that reached the ceiling.”

“We couldn’t play softball on Sunday afternoons unless we came to youth group first.”

“You didn’t wiggle in church.  You sat quietly in the pew while the preacher talked for 45 minutes.”

“In my day you didn’t wear tennis shoes to church.”

“In my day you wore a hat and gloves, and the men wore a dress coat and tie no matter how hot.”

“The ladies of the church were larger than life!”

“We knew the community loved us.”

I love these things.  I love the stories that are told around memories that are both beloved and tinged with awe or humor.  And if we are honest, perhaps a note of condescension, as if things today are lacking because they are different.  Here are a few things I can say about church that I remember, and some things I hope the future generations will remember when they tell their kids about church.

For me:

“In my day, we had donuts in Sunday School.”

“In my day, we sat in the balcony with our friends (I know some of y’all did too).”

“In my day, we sang Pass It On  and lit candles every Christmas Eve.” (And I will never get over the fact that they do not do this anymore in my home church.  It was a tradition, and it has changed Christmas Eve forever, it is like blasphemy. This is a hill I will die on.)

“In my day, my pastors were easy to talk to.”

“In my day we had guitars and sometimes even drums in church.”

“In my day teenagers could lead worship and sit on committees.”

“We knew the community loved us.”

For the children of our church, I hope they look back and say:

“ Sometimes Pastor Loren let us sit behind the pulpit on Sunday mornings.”

“In my day people were not afraid to laugh in worship or clap when the Spirit moved them.”

“My parents say that I used to run around the sanctuary during the sermon.”

“It was okay when we brought our army men and barbies to church to play under the pews.”

“We collected money for people who needed help with brightly colored buckets.”

“We ate our weight in Goldfish, and no one ever complained when we left crumbs on the carpet.”

“We beat each other up with bean bags and chased each other with cookies in our hands.”

“We knew the community loved us.”

Polka-dot memories

Polka-dot memories

Your red dress, sublime.

Seth said he saved it for the girls

To be worn another time.

You always lost your sunglasses

I think whenever I put on mine.

For all the shade in this damn world

It never eclipsed your shine.

I can’t believe it’s been a year

Since you put your trust in trying.

Hoping for the science of medicine

And God to keep you from dying.

Wish I could say I understand

The world still spins but dimmer.

I’d give anything to hear you laugh

Dancing in hot pink shimmer.

LTM

4/20/24

Birdsong

Morning dawn

Steel sky strong

meets Kelly Green.

Scarlet Cardinal

dives for Dogwood,

Birdsong.

Sunrays

greet petal’s gaze

breezy Pansies dancing.

Finch feathers blaze

Amid sky blue for days,

Birdsong.

In the afterglow

the Robins show

copper burnished breasts.

Dandelions turn in for the night,

Irises reach for the stars.

Birdsong.

LTM

4/20/24

Spring

Redbuds, Dogwoods, and Daffodils

dance before our eyes.

Tulips catch raindrops,

like salvation cups.

April winds lift dead leaves,

and twirl them away.

Rocks overturned, rolled away,

teaming with life behind them.

Songbirds nest and sing

a chorus to renewal.

Every shade of green,

every hue of blue,

every color bursting forth

before our eyes.

And though the grass withers

and the flowers fade,

the season of resurrection

 echoes the word of the One

which stands forever.

LTM 4/15/24

The grass withers, the flower fades;
   but the word of our God will stand for ever.

-- Isaiah 40:8

Palm to Passion

Palms dance in sweaty palms

Announcing the arrival of a savior.

Leaves carpet cloaks in sand.

Moments and movements and memories of

Suffering to withstand.

 LTM 3/24/24

Too much of a good thing

Too much of a good thing?

Is too much of a good thing, a bad thing?  The front flower bed of our home is full of Ivy…was full of ivy.  Yesterday in the warm sunshine I got a wild hair to rip it all out.  I adore the Ivy really. I love the little purple flowers that bloom on it in spring and the way it marches across the stairs on the porch.  I also love watching our cat Mars bury himself in it and sleep in the shade of its leaves in the summer.  But the Ivy was taking over everything else.  It was choking out Daffodils, Irises, and Hostas.  Everything but the weeds! So as much as I appreciate the green ground cover it gives, it must go.  It turns out you can have too much of a good thing. 

What if the entirety of our lives are spent this way?  What if sometimes we find something, and it’s a really good thing, but it turns out choking out some other really good or important things? Maybe you love watching ESPN—it’s a great way to unwind after a long day—but what if you watch it so much you miss out on time with your family or a meal with your friends?  Maybe you love reading but you become so engrossed in your books that you miss what is happening with your loved ones right next to you.  Maybe you find a lot of joy in taking care of other people, but at the end of the week you find you’ve been so busy taking care of meals and chores for everyone else, you’ve done nothing for yourself.  What if you have spent so much time on Saturday taking care of your family or socializing with your friends that you don’t have the energy for church on Sunday morning…. Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing. 

There are occasions where the things we enjoy as hobbies or opportunities to unwind or unplug become a crutch to us.  They are beautiful, but they kind of take over in a way that can be destructive.  Other times we have the best of intentions to do what is good and show love, that we find ourselves overwhelmed by the commitments we’ve made.  And other times still…these things become ground cover for something dirty underneath. A way to compartmentalize, distract, or avoid something painful or difficult. 

Here's the thing.  I’ve left some Ivy in the flowerbed.  I can’t bear to let it all go, it’s too pretty.  However, I know it is going to need regular maintenance.  I am going to have to occasionally trim it back and redirect its tendrils, or it will overtake my garden again.  What might you need to cut back on? Where might you need to redirect your energies?

Forged in Fire

I read a word of encouragement this morning while scrolling through my Instagram feed that said:

“Do you suppose that the same Son of God that stood in the furnace with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego is not also standing with you?  Your furnace may look different than theirs but the One alongside you has not changed.” 

What a great reminder that our God is a constant across the ages.  Also, what a gift that God continues to stand with us throughout our trials, each and every one of us.  Our God is present and active in our lives and in the world. 

It doesn’t always feel that way…the headlines proclaim a world that looks like a dumpster fire.  If there wasn’t war and rumors of war fanning the flames of power and capitalism, would the world cease spinning?  It has always been this way, but more than ever we are made aware of the violence, the epidemics, the poverty, the disasters by the 24-hour news cycle. 

In our personal lives, life seems to feel like we are racing to put out one fire and then another…and then another.  Everyone is facing some battle in their lives, whether it is fighting for health coverage, battling through illness, fighting for a job, fighting an addiction, working through grief, or giving voice to the voiceless, this thing called life can be exhausting. 

The story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego was always one of my favorites in the Bible. The three young men, along with Daniel were Israelites serving in the Babylonian court of King Nebuchadnezzar.  The king made a huge golden statue and demanded that everyone bow down and worship it.  The Israelites refused to do so, and the King threw them into a fiery furnace as a punishment.  Just as the three men claimed, their God protected them from the flames.  The king and his servants saw four men unbound and walking through the fire.  The fourth was described as “having the appearance of a god.”  They walked from the fire without the smell of smoke or even a singe on the hem of their cloaks. 

This too, is our God. The God who spoke through a burning bush that was not engulfed.  The God who protected his faithful in Babylon from the furnace.  The God who ignited a holy movement with tongues of fire on the heads of believers….that is our God.  And he will do this for us as well.  So I pray that whatever furnace you face, you continue to worship God and find hope in the promise that he will be in it with you.  Amen. 

Solar

This poem was originally written ten years ago, in 2014 as a submission to DevoZine, a devotional magazine for teens published by The Upper Room.   The theme for the submission was “The Skin You’re In.”  Revisiting it all these years later, I find it to be a beautiful metaphor for Lent. 

Solar

She crouches in the shadows

her sin a blanket around her.

In breathing she finds herself

smothered by the stuffy truth.

She imprisons herself, ashamed

of her imperfections, her weaknesses.

Tangled in herself, unable to see God

her sins keep her from His call.

What lies beyond the iron gates

seduces her mind for a moment,

but to pass through those bars

she must leave fear to ashen dust.

She has to let go of the hands that hurt her,

the ones she let herself get lost in;

a broken heart, a body misused,

a mind unbridled.  She drops the cloak, hears His call.

Timid, she steps into the light.

Passion within awakens

and she reflects a flame.

Gates open, she sets herself free. She is the sun.

LTM 2014

You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lamp stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.- Matthew 5:14-16 (NRSV)

God’s protective ways

Fortress, mighty

 is our God.

for strength and fortitude

we pray.

We beg for shelter under wings

Shade in the blaze of day

Protective cover beneath

 the moon’s revealing rays.

LTM 2/25/24

Psalm 91

1 You who live in the shelter of the Most High,
   who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,
2 will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress;
   my God, in whom I trust.’
3 For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler
   and from the deadly pestilence;
4 he will cover you with his pinions,
   and under his wings you will find refuge;
   his faithfulness is a shield and buckler.
5 You will not fear the terror of the night,
   or the arrow that flies by day,
6 or the pestilence that stalks in darkness,
   or the destruction that wastes at noonday.

Psalm 121

5 The Lord is your keeper;
   the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
6 The sun shall not strike you by day,
   nor the moon by night.