Jul 26 2021 Day 151 Psalms 120:1–126:6

Peace be within your walls, and security within your towers.



Peace and security, two things I think we all seek. It’s interesting that it’s peace within the walls, and security within the towers. Walls and towers indicate unrest and insecurity; otherwise, why would they have been built? But once there are walls and towers, we seek peace and security.

I wonder if it’s the walls and towers that help create the sense of peace, or whether they create the sense of unrest. In my home, I lock the doors when I head to bed, and I feel more secure. But does that mean that there’s an underlying unrest I’m trying to lock out, to secure myself from? If that’s how I see the world, as an inherently dangerous place, do towers and walls help? I’m reminded of people who live in very risky dangerous neighborhoods, with bars on their windows, locked security doors, and multiple locks and chains on their door. After having zipped themselves inside their fortress, can they feel safe?

I mention this because this phrase, “Peace be within your walls, and security within your towers”, has always resonated deeply and personally with me. I want peace and security within my soul, and every time I hear this phrase, I feel like it’s a wish for my own personal peace and security, not within the walls and towers of Jerusalem.

So the question is whether I have erected walls and towers, security doors and bars, that ultimately create a sense of constant unrest, rather than the peace sought.

For the most part, no. But in some areas, I think I have fallen prey to the notion that the more protected I make me, the safer I’ll feel. I don’t like going bowling, for the sole reason that I am absolutely unpredictably mediocre. I don’t like being mediocre, and that’s because I’d prefer to be good. And no matter how I practice, or classes I take, I could never become predictably better at bowling. Better to not bowl, to protect myself from my dumb sense of being good-enough, than to risk that sense of inferiority. While it’s pride and perfectionism that make me not want to bowl, it’s the walls I’ve built that make me not want to bowl with others. Dumb, but true.

And now that the walls are built, and I don’t bowl with others, I wonder if the wall’s presence is helping or hurting my sense of security and peace. True, I won’t shame myself by being a crappy bowler. But I’ve now got this reinforced narrative that I can’t bowl. And as my husband has tried to point out, no one cares how I bowl; he thinks it would just be fun to go out and bowl. Um, not for me. I’m safe and secure behind my I-don’t-bowl wall. But probably actually more insecure, if truth be told.

This morning, I’m thinking about where there might be other walls and towers I’ve built, and whether they’re serving me to actually bring peace and security, or if they’ve outlived their purpose and need to come down. Bowling is an easy one to spot. Some of the more internal walls and towers may take more time to find and dismantle. Meanwhile, I will glory in the peace and security I can find, however it comes.