I navigated the drop-off line at my son’s new school with a bit of trepidation. One lane split into two, and I carefully rolled to a stop at the crossing guard’s persistent arm-waving. My son opened the car door and paused to tell me goodbye before leaving the safety of my presence.
On the way, we’d prayed for his first day at middle school. All summer my kids have been near me physically. And I mean that literally. It’s not unusual for me to sit on the couch to read or watch a show and find myself completely smothered with the weight of my two boys who find their mom a fine substitution for actual furniture. We call it “wallering” in my house, and while it’s mildly annoying, I know I’ll miss it one day.
I forget with each first day of school that odd sensation of watching your kid walk around and live independently of your body, your instructions, your protection. On our first day back, I prayed aloud as we drove the new route to the new school. I prayed for the teachers and the students. I prayed for my son to be brave and obedient, to work hard and to be kind to others. I knew he was a little nervous, so I prayed for him to be reminded that the Lord was always with him.
Praying our way through traffic and school zones, the words tumbling out of my mouth replaced my nervy anxiety with peace. I remembered my son’s baptism last spring and the fruit of young faith that’s blossomed since his profession of faith in Christ. As the Holy Spirit is always with me, He is always with my son. Even in public school. Even at the lunch table where he sat alone the first day. Even when I worked out the confusing pick-up line that afternoon and saw him waiting, looking young and uncertain and a little bit lost.
I’m slow to remember that when Jesus said, “I am with you always,” He really meant it (Matt. 28:20). He gave us the gift of the Holy Spirit, not as a substitute or a place holder, but as both a guarantee that our salvation is secure and as the way Jesus would keep His promise to be with us. When David said, “Where can I go from Your Spirit, where can I flee from Your presence?” he was both warning and comforting himself. When it comes to our sin, we cannot hide ourselves from the Lord, and when it comes to fear, we cannot get too far away from Him for “even then Your hand will lead me; Your right hand will hold on to me” (Ps. 139:7,10). I cannot protect my son’s heart the way God can; I cannot go with him the way God does.
Perhaps we believe we only need to be reminded of the Lord’s presence when we’re suffering or facing persecution, but we would do well to remind ourselves that because of Jesus’ work at the cross, the dwelling place of God is with man, and the Holy Spirit lives in each of us who have repented and believed in Christ. Of all the things I can tell my son when I’m entrusting him to the care of others—I love you, I’ll miss you, I hope you have a good day, work hard—there’s only one thing that brings comfort like nothing else: The Lord is with you.
So whether it’s sending your kid off to school or beginning a new job or moving across the globe to share the gospel in hostile lands, the Lord is with you. Even unto the end of the age. Even to the end of this day. His sovereignty is your shelter, and His presence is your comfort.
The Lord is with you. Even unto the end of the age. Even to the end of this day. His sovereignty is your shelter, and His presence is your comfort. Share on X
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.