We don’t have towers to run to in times of trouble anymore; we have locks on our doors and windows and security alarms to make us feel safe in our homes. As a child born in the 1950s I remember neighbors with ‘storm shelters’ in their basements, supposedly designed for extreme weather events and Cold War threats. I’m not sure they could have protected the families from much of anything. The dirt floors, musty smells, and wooden doors would not inspire a feeling of security today.
The area of refuge I wrote about is a stairwell designed to protect its inhabitants during natural disasters or provide an emergency exit. The wide stairs can accommodate many people. A metal platform stands ready for people using wheelchairs or others who can’t efficiently navigate stairs. This stairway is a strong tower indeed, designed for the threatened. As a teacher of special needs students my heart always warmed that emergency refuge and exits were accessible to all.
Safe Rooms have building standards now which exceed normal standards for houses and have replaced storm shelters, but God’s tower is stronger, always present, always dependable, and accessible to everyone. Perhaps we can think of God’s name as a Strong Room?
I retired from teaching in 2019, ending 20 years of teaching the blind and visually impaired, a field I loved so much and still do. I don’t pass the ‘area of refuge sign’ every day anymore. I don’t have the meetings I found stressful—stress that was often self-induced—but my need for God’s refuge remains.
God’s very name is a refuge. God’s name is a strong tower. God’s presence is a promise. It’s easy to forget it and easy to doubt it, but it’s available and accessible to all.
Do you sense the power of that promise?
Maureen Lewicki is a retired teacher of the Blind and Visually Impaired, wife to a top-notch man, and proud mom of two adult children with lots of adorable grandchildren to love. When she’s not gardening, writing, or knitting, she is searching for her glasses.