I’ve been around from the start. But no one ever sees me.
They only feel me—when I’m missing.
People want me more than gold.
They search for me in gates, in towers, in walls.
But I don’t live in stone.
I never have.
Let me tell you where they tried to find me.
.
There was a time when I was everywhere.
A garden had been planted. Not by man. But for him.
There were no gates. No towers. No weapons.
I was at home there.
But when the people left the garden, they left me behind too.
And ever since, they’ve been trying to rebuild what they lost.
The first one to chase me was a man named Cain.
He had done something terrible. He was scared.
Not of guilt—but of others.
He wanted me—when it was all about himself.
So he built the first city.
“Enoch,” he called it. After his son, as if that would make it feel like home. But it didn’t.
He wanted me there—inside those walls.
But I didn’t go.
I watched as his descendants filled the city with violence, immorality, and idolatry.
They thought I was something you could trap inside a gate.
But I kept walking.
Later, others tried again.
They were afraid too—not of death.
But of being scattered.
And so they built to stay together and to be remembered.
Their leader was Nimrod, a powerful man.
This time, it wasn’t one man seeking me—it was all of them.
They used bricks.
They reached upward.
They tried religion without truth.
They thought if they built high enough, I’d come live at the top.
They were trying to build their own version of me.
But I never arrived.
And they were scattered, after all.
Then came Abraham.
He came from a city—but chose the land.
His nephew moved into towns. But Abraham wandered.
He lived in tents, not towers.
He named places after God, not after himself.
He built altars, not walls.
He didn’t try to build me.
He waited for the city designed by God.
And that is when I came closer than I had in a long, long time.
It wasn’t that cities were bad.
It’s just that none of them worked.
With the exception of one.
Not one built in fear.
Not one built for pride.
But the one where I live.
Be it in heaven or on earth.
Different locations, same truth.
The one who truly brings me is Jehovah.
And when he is there—so am I.
My name?
Security.
🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️
You alone
O Jehovah
make me dwell
in security.
—Psalm 4:8—
🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️🏙️
Genesis 2:15; 4:13,14,16,17,19,23,26; 10:10; 11:4,8-10; 12:7,9; 13:12; 22:14; Psalm 72:16; Ezekiel 48:35; Hebrews 11:10; Revelation 3:12