Tree Houses

I have always coveted tree houses. I wasn’t really the climbing type, but if I had a rope ladder or some steps, I would’ve been in business. I even wanted a “Boyz Only” clubhouse building. It could’ve even said those words. I didn’t care. As long as I had my own hiding place.

It’s probably good I didn’t have one, because I would’ve bleached and Cloroxed those boards and walls to death trying to get rid of cobwebs. I most likely would have died an early death from high doses of ant repellent. But, nonetheless, I still envied all the children who had those.

I was reading a book this week about the names of God and this one struck me: My High Tower. There is something ingrained in the heart of man to be safe…protected. I, for one, am deathly afraid of heights, but there’s something comforting about being above your enemies. The advantage lies with the one in the higher place.

Here’s the thought: It’s up to me how high I go.

I could have a tree house but never get up in it. I also have a Bible but I choose how often I get in it. And I have a heavenly Father, but I choose how often I crawl into His arms.

If you’re feeling unusually low, check your position with these verses: 2 Samuel 22:3. Psalm 18:2, and Psalm 144:2.

And then go Higher.

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