Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance. — Psalm 32:7 KJV
You are my hiding place; You keep me from trouble;
You surround me with songs of deliverance. — Psalm 32:7 NASB
Reflection
We should examine how we view God in our own lives. Do we see Him as our hiding place? Do we trust in His protection and celebrate His deliverance?
Turn to God. Spend time in prayer and worship, allowing His presence to bring peace to your heart. Remember that God’s protection is always with you. When faced with challenges, remind yourself of His promises and stand firm in faith.
Keep a record of the times God has delivered you from trouble. Let these testimonies strengthen your faith and encourage others. Sing songs of praise, rejoicing in His goodness and faithfulness.
My Prayer
Heavenly Father, I lift up to You my worries and burdens. I lay them at Your feet, trusting that You will provide and sustain me. Strengthen my faith, deepen my trust, and fill me with Your love, so that I may reflect Your light to those around me.
Thank You for being my refuge and protector. I praise You for Your boundless grace and mercy. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.
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Author
Alona Smith writes like she sketches—quick strokes, bold colors, no eraser. She ran a small-town art studio before VerseForTheDay invited her to swap charcoal for chapters, yet paint still flecks her keyboard. Dawn finds her barefoot on the porch, swirling watercolors across a travel Bible, letting sunrise seep into the margins. Neighbors wave as she bikes to the farmers’ market, basket rattling with sunflowers and Psalms scribbled on kraft-paper price tags.Alona trusts that Scripture behaves like clay: press your palms in, and a vessel appears where empty air once lived. Afternoon workshops with foster teens prove the point; they mold hope into coffee mugs, then watch steam carry it forward.Diplomas? Only framed sketches of hands lifted in worship. Awards? A dog-eared gratitude list taped to her fridge. Open her reflections when cynicism scratches—she’ll slide a brush into your grip and show you light hiding in the smear of everyday color.