She who dwells and takes her place in the secret habitation of the Most High moves close, into the shadow of the Holy. As close as a breath.

Weighty words, this taking up residence in God.

We enter this abode at the supreme cost of life, death, a cross, and a resurrection. The secret place is a sacred place. It bears the weight of glory. His glory.

In the secret place, we find shelter, a refuge, and safety from evil intents, from daily cares, from burdens too heavy, from living in our swirling, rapid, trying-to-keep-up world.

In His presence, the believer takes his sacred position, and where He is the ground is holy.

I run to the sacred and secret dwelling place. I bow low and remove my shoes.

Sunday grace.