A PLACE OF PERFECT SAFETY

Watching the Winter Olympics these last of couple of days has brought a flood of memories of my hometown of Vancouver, B.C. While I am now a citizen of the United States and of Texas, I will always be a proud Canuck. I was pleased to hear one of the NBC commentators speak in glowing terms of what a livable city Vancouver is. It’s a magnificent and beautiful place.

The memory of an article I read in the paper when we lived in Los Angeles came rushing back to me. A young father from British Columbia was concerned for the safety of his family. It was the end of the 1970’s and the Cold War was in full blossom, which meant there was a lot of sabre-rattling of the Soviet Empire being countered by the sabre-rattling of the West and, specifically, the U.S. and Great Britain. In public, the Cold War was a war of words with accompanying press releases on, “I have a bigger gun than you do” and “My army will gladly open a can of whup___ on you.” The frightening part of the whole time period was the build-up of nuclear weapons on the part of the U.S. and Russia.

The young father from B.C. became increasingly frightened about the future of his family. After all, B.C. lay right in the path of missiles and bombers coming from Russia on their way to Disneyland (better known as Washington D.C.).

The panic-stricken young father spent months and months trying to find the safest place on earth for his family. He wanted some security and confidence that his children would have a future. After an exhaustive search, he found what he thought was the perfect place, a British protectorate in the South Atlantic. English was the primary language, it had a small population, and immigration would not be difficult. The protectorate was largely unknown and very much off the beaten path of world affairs. This appeared to be as close to a perfect place of safety as anyone could imagine.

The young Canadian family sold everything they owned and around 1980 they moved from the interior of British Columbia to a remote island chain just to the east of Argentina known as the Falklands.

The Falklands were under the rule of Great Britain and what the young man didn’t know or didn’t take into account was that Argentina claimed that the island chain belonged to it. In the dreary corridors of international diplomacy, a war of words was being fought over this tiny piece of property.

Not long after the Canadian family moved into this isolated sanctuary, the most unbelievable thing happened. In April of 1982, Argentina decided it was done with the words and they invaded the Falklands. The British put down their cups of tea and very properly said, “Now wait just a moment, old chap!” And then the British launched a counterattack and a “hot war” was on. For two months the world watched in horror as the military might of both countries was unleashed on the Falklands. There were pitched infantry battles, jets were shot down, navy vessels were sunk and solders and some civilians died.

War had come to the Falklands and hell had come to the sanctuary! The place of peace, security and bliss was no different from living in the Russian village of Chernobyl. The unexpected happened and what that young family learned is that there is no physical place of safety on this planet except, of course, the Promised Land (better known as Texas).

I don’t know what happened to that family but I believe they survived the war. In the end, the Argentines withdrew and the Falklands continue to be a British protectorate. Recently the two nations have been verbally sparring again over the disputed territory and who has the rights to explore for gas and oil in its waters. Here we go again…?

How ironic it is that our human attempts at refuge/security can be so incomplete and subject to the whims of chance. When we attempt to build our own security, we are operating within the limits of our own intelligence and awareness. When we accept God’s security plan, His refuge, we embrace the plan that comes from unlimited intelligence and awareness, a place where grace and mercy extend from everlasting to everlasting.

Psalm 91 is, I believe, one of the great declarations of the believer’s safety as he/she abides in God’s presence. The Psalm begins with a declaration that when we stay in fellowship with Him, we are kept in His shadow—meaning that because we are under His rule, we are under His protection.

Have you ever said, “Lord, you are my refuge”? Don’t just think it, speak it aloud! Say it out loud when everything is going right. Say it out loud when everything is going wrong. Keep saying it because it’s true!

“He is my refuge and my fortress; my God, in Him I will trust” (Psalm 91:2).