Have you ever wanted to go live in a cave?

I have. I’ve dreamed of it, have longed for a day or days or weeks or months when I could slip off to a fissure in the rock, go inside, and forget the world a while.

Around here, we don’t have many true caves, but I know of plenty of dry bluff shelters that are set deep into the hills and hollers. The Native Americans made use of these bluffs, and most of them still bear the marks of the past. You’ll find smooth craters worn into the stone at the shelter’s edge, proof the rock was used for cracking and grinding nuts. You’ll occasionally find flint chips, evidence of the knapping process, where someone made a knife, an axe, or an arrowhead. On rare occasions, you’ll still find one of those tools, hundreds or thousands of years later, and the only sign is a nubby tip that you just happened to notice.  

I would come and go from my bluff shelter, far from the sound of automobiles, the buzz of cell phone notifications, and artificial light. I would look up through a clearing in the trees at night and see the Milky Way, its millions of pixelated stars blurring together as if God fingerpainted a pale streak across the sky. Surrounded by the whispering forest, rustling with fall’s drying leaves, I would slip into my sanctuary, my haven, my fortress, and stare at the dancing shadows flickering along the rock wall, cast from the glow of my fire.

I would think. I would think long and hard about things, but eventually even those thoughts would vanish like a wisp of hickory smoke. There would only be the sound of the insects, the wind in the trees, and the crackle of wood as it burns to ash.

And I would pray not so much with words but with an attitude and a posture, with humility, reverence, and awe. Caves, high bluff walls, the ocean, sunrises and sunsets, waterfalls. These things take my words away, and rightly so. When you realize most things in this world are so much greater than you are, it is the only natural thing to do.

I could do it, for a day or days or weeks or months, until the lost in me is once again found.

That is, until some other tragedy unfolds, and I’d be right back to my cleft in the rock.

There may be lots of us feeling that way, for various reasons. There are those grieving the loss of loved ones. There are those whose family members just can’t seem to make one right decision. There are those who are battling unfounded accusations, rumors, and lies. 

There are those who are overwhelmed with life in general: the washing machine’s shot, dirty clothes are piled high, the bills keep coming, your car’s broke down. The job is too much. The job pays too little. You burned the biscuits. The kids are sick.

Add in senseless, brutal acts of violence that are coming to rest on our doorstep almost daily, and we have the perfect recipe for an all-out emotional breakdown with the potential to shift the foundation of our existence.

Time for a field trip. Turn off the phone, the television, and the computer. Stop the relentless stream of talking head news sources and let your mind return to the way God intended it to be. 

If you’ve got some woods and a cave, slip away for a spell, and consider:

That bluff wall was there long before you came tearing your way into the world, and it will be there when you are gone.

Unless you have a stick of dynamite, you’re not going to budge those high cliffs. Generations have lived in and around the rocky places of our world for good reason. Protection. Safety. Security.

Caves and craggy places also remind me of familiar songs, their words and tunes as much a comfort to me as the wind whistling through the pine needles: 

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“Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee.”

“On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.”

“When I need a shelter, when I need a friend, I go to the rock.”

“He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock, that shadows a dry thirsty land.”

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And it is there in the Rock that I find my rest from the world, for even in the midst of chaos, I am not alone. He is my Savior, my Friend, my Protector, my Comforter. 

He is with me, for when I lie down at night, I rest my head in His lap. He surrounds me, for He is the Fire, the Rock, and the Wind. He is the Still Small Voice who speaks through the noisy din of this world’s chaos. He calms and reassures, and He gives me the strength to face another day.

My Lord is with me. 

And if you take a moment to look around, He is also with you.

Just seems like He’s a lot easier to find in a cave.