Praying the Scriptures Psalms 91

 

"Some believers simply visit God. We visit Him on Sunday mornings or in emergencies. When something breaks and we’ve tried every other option, then we go to God. But God is not looking for visitors. He’s inviting us to reside. " 

Tomorrow I’m heading to Dallas—the Big D. We’ll have my six-month scan on Tuesday morning along with another appointment, so I covet your prayers as always. It has been a year and a half—can you believe that?—since my major surgery, and we are just thanking God for His healing. I never want to forget to praise Him for that. Thank you for your prayers as I travel and try to survive the morning drive to Dallas. You understand that, right? It is what it is.

We’re going to start a new sermon series today. Last week we wrapped up our series on the holiness of God and His call for His people to be holy as He is holy. Over the next few weeks, as we lead up to Easter, we’re going to spend time in Psalm 91. We’ll walk through this very important and amazing psalm. Many people know it, even if we don’t read it as often as Psalm 23 or some of the other psalms. It’s still a very powerful and popular passage.

For the next few weeks this will be our focus. In three weeks we’ll be gone traveling to Norfolk to see our sailor, and then we’ll come back and finish up our time in Psalm 91. That’s the plan.

Turn with me, if you will, to Psalm 91. We’re going to read the first two verses as we begin. Over the last five or six years I’ve been encouraged to pray Scripture. If you’ve never begun to pray Scripture, it’s a wonderful spiritual practice. Psalm 91 is one of the most powerful passages to pray. After each of these sermons, we’re going to pray the Scripture we read—over ourselves and over one another. I want to encourage you to begin praying Scripture. It has truly deepened and changed my walk with God.

Those Who Dwell

Here are the opening verses of Psalm 91: “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.’”

Several years ago in the Midwest there was a powerful tornado that went through a small town with almost no warning. Sometimes those warnings come a little too late. The sirens sounded, the sky turned green, and the wind roared like a freight train, just like they always say. One family in that town had installed a storm shelter in their backyard. It was reinforced steel, bolted into concrete, and engineered to withstand EF5 winds.

When the sirens sounded, they didn’t stand at the windows watching the clouds. They didn’t admire the shelter from a distance and say, “That’s a beautiful shelter back there.” They didn’t say, “Man, it looks strong—I hope it works.” You know what they did? They ran inside, shut the door, and stayed there.

The storm destroyed houses on their street. Roofs were ripped away, trees were uprooted, and cars were overturned. But when that family came out of the shelter, they were untouched. Why? Not because the storm wasn’t strong, but because their shelter was stronger than the storm—and they were inside it.

Psalm 91 is not written for the occasional visitor. It’s not written for the person standing outside. It’s written for dwellers—for those who dwell. Listen again to those opening verses: “He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High will abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.’”

There’s a promise here in these first two verses, but it’s connected to a posture. Not everyone experiences the shadow—only those who choose the secret place. The theme I want to focus on this morning is this: to dwell in the secret place. It’s about choosing to live close to God rather than just visiting Him occasionally. During this Lenten season, I want to encourage us to truly dwell—to dwell in His shelter and under the shadow of the Almighty.

David begins by saying, “He who dwells.” The word “dwells” means to sit down, to remain, to settle in, or to make your home somewhere. We don’t use that language much today. We don’t usually say we’re dwelling in our homes. But that’s exactly what the word means—to make somewhere your home, to settle in, and to find your comfort there.

This is not a hotel stay. It’s not a weekend getaway. It’s moving in. There’s a difference between visiting someone’s home and living there. When you visit, you’re polite. When you dwell, you’re family.

Some believers simply visit God. We visit Him on Sunday mornings or in emergencies. When something breaks and we’ve tried every other option, then we go to God. But God is not looking for visitors. He’s inviting us to reside. He wants residents. Jesus said in John 15:4, “Abide in me, and I will abide in you.” Another way it’s said in the Gospels is, “Remain in me, and I will remain in you.”

To abide means to stay connected, to remain, or to continue. The Christian life isn’t about occasional spiritual experiences. It’s about continual spiritual connection and communion with God. It’s about staying connected to the vine, abiding in Him, and dwelling in Christ. So let me ask you this question this morning: Is God your residence? Is He your refuge, or is He your last resort?

The psalm continues: “He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High.” What is the secret place? It’s not a geographic location—it’s a relational position. The secret place is David’s way of describing intimacy with God. It’s closeness with Him. It’s the place of prayer, surrender, and quietness before Him. It’s the place where our motives are purified and where we rest in His presence.

It’s called secret because it’s personal. In Psalm 27:4 the psalmist says, “One thing I have desired, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord.” The secret place isn’t about hiding from people; it’s about drawing near to God.

I believe we can be very busy in church and never truly enter the secret place. We can serve, teach classes, sit on boards, and do many good and helpful things, yet never truly dwell. We can preach sermons and still never abide. The secret place is where we’re honest, vulnerable, dependent, and still before God.

Here’s the powerful truth: the secret place is available to all of us. There’s no membership level. There’s no spiritual elite status. There’s simply a willingness to come and dwell. But it does require a choice. You cannot dwell accidentally.

The psalm refers to God as “the Most High.” The Hebrew name here is Elyon, which declares His supremacy. He is higher than governments, higher than economies, higher than any diagnosis, higher than demonic forces, higher than our past, and higher than our fears. He is the Most High.

The psalm also says we rest under the shadow of the Almighty. The word “Almighty” comes from the Hebrew name Shaddai. It means all-powerful, all-sufficient, and more than enough. We are not dwelling with a weak deity. We are dwelling with the Most High and abiding under the Almighty.

There is something beautiful here. You cannot be in someone’s shadow unless you are close to them. The shadow implies proximity. If I’m a hundred yards away from you, I’m not in your shadow. The promise of protection is connected to closeness with God. The shadow represents His covering, protection, and nearness.

But the shadow is not promised to the occasional visitor. It’s promised to the dwellers—to those who make their home in Him and remain connected to Him.

Verse two shifts from description to declaration: “I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust.” Those who dwell begin to speak differently. Our words reveal where we live spiritually.

If we dwell in fear, we speak anxiety. If we dwell in culture, we speak confusion. But if we dwell in the secret place, we speak faith. A refuge is a shelter in danger. A fortress is a defensive stronghold. And notice the personal language: my refuge, my fortress, my God.

Trust is not automatic. Trust is chosen. David says, “In Him I will trust.” Trust grows through proximity. The closer we are to someone, the more we trust them because we see their faithfulness.

Visitors want the benefits, but dwellers want Him. Visitors ask, “What can God do for me?” Dwellers ask, “How close can I get to Him?”

So how do we dwell? First, meet with Him every day. Set aside time and guard it. Second, practice continual awareness. Talk to God throughout your day and watch for the ways He is working and speaking. Third, surrender quickly. Don’t let sin create distance. When you fall short, turn back to Him immediately. And finally, speak trust intentionally. Declare what verse two says even before you feel it.

Dwelling is not about perfection—it’s about positioning. Psalm 91 is not a magic formula; it’s about relationship. The promises flow out of dwelling in Him.

The good news is that the invitation is open to all of us. We can dwell today. We can move from being occasional visitors to permanent residents. We can make Him our home.

When we dwell in the secret place of the Most High, we will rest in the shadow of the Almighty—not because storms stop coming, but because our shelter is stronger than the storm.

Let’s pray together as we close. Lord, forgive us for visiting when You have called us to dwell. Teach us to abide in You. During this Lenten season, draw us into the secret place. Help us live under Your shadow—confident in You, trusting in You, and resting in You.

You are our refuge and our fortress. You are our God, and in You we will trust. Draw us closer to Yourself. Help us find that daily time where we can rest in You and find our peace, comfort, and shelter in You.

We thank You for the work You are doing in us and the work You have already begun. Thank You for being a God who loves us and calls us to intimacy. Jesus, go with us as we leave this place. Help us to be Your people wherever we go—ambassadors for Christ. Bring us back together again tonight, and in all things we give You praise. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen. Go in peace today.