“He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.” — Psalm 23:2–3
There are some memories that seem to wait patiently for years until God gently opens the door.
Recently, while spending time in prayer, a childhood memory came rushing back. I was about four or five years old, lying in bed beside my mama, waiting to see if my daddy would come home. If he did, would he be sober? Would he come in angry? Or would he stay away all night?
As a little girl, I only knew what I felt.
Fear.
Uncertainty.
Longing.
Every night seemed to hold the same unanswered question.
I would kiss my mama’s forehead and say, “Good night, Mommy. I love your noggin head.”
That simple memory brought tears to my eyes—not because I suddenly remembered something new about my daddy, but because, for the very first time, I wondered what my mama must have been feeling.
Was she lying there quietly praying?
Was she listening for headlights in the driveway?
Was she trying to protect her daughters from fears too heavy for little girls to carry?
As children, we only see life through our own eyes. As adults, God sometimes allows us to see through someone else’s.
As I sat with that memory, I realized something else.
For much of my life, I have longed for love that felt safe.
That longing followed me into adulthood and even into my marriage. Too often I found myself wondering, How will he respond? Will today be peaceful, or will something small become something painful?
Then the Lord reminded me of something beautiful.
Years ago, during one especially painful encounter, I quietly left the house and drove away in tears. I simply told my husband, “I can see you’re very upset. I’m going to leave for a little while. If you still want to talk when I return, we can.”
As I drove, the Lord led me beside literal still waters.
There, my tears slowed.
My breathing calmed.
My fear gave way to His peace.
Only now do I realize that wasn’t just a peaceful drive.
It was Psalm 23.
The Shepherd was leading His frightened sheep beside still waters.
What I had been searching for in people, my Shepherd was faithfully giving me Himself.
Even if the deepest human relationships fail to provide the security we long for, the Lord never will.
That doesn’t erase the wounds.
It doesn’t excuse sinful behavior.
It doesn’t mean we stop praying for those we love to experience God’s transforming grace.
But it does remind us that our deepest refuge has never been another imperfect human being.
It has always been our Shepherd.
Perhaps that is why David wrote,
> “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” (Psalm 23:4)
Notice David didn’t say the valley disappeared.
He said the Shepherd stayed.
Maybe you’ve spent years longing for someone to make you feel safe.
Maybe, like me, you’ve waited for words that never came, or for love that never quite felt secure.
Friend, your heavenly Father sees every tear, every unanswered longing, and every frightened place in your heart.
He has never missed a single night.
He has never failed to come home.
He has never raised His voice in anger.
He has never stopped listening.
He has never stopped loving.
The little girl inside us may still remember the uncertainty.
But the woman God is shaping can now rest beside still waters because she knows the Shepherd who never sleeps.
Prayer
Father, thank You for gently opening the places in my heart that need Your healing. Thank You for never forcing the process, but walking beside me with patience and love. Heal every fearful place with Your perfect love. Replace uncertainty with trust, striving with rest, and longing with the deep assurance that You are always with me. Continue leading me beside still waters until every part of my heart finds its home in You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
