“You are my hiding place; you protect me from trouble. You surround me with joyful shouts of deliverance.” — Psalm 32:7

Heather came to my house and found me hiding in my closet. This woman loves me as if I were born to her, and she has pursued my wandering heart in ways that still feel foreign. When you grow up in an emotionally neglectful home, connection feels dangerous. Being truly seen by her was terrifying. I knew, intellectually, that she loved all the parts of me, but trauma had trained my nervous system to interpret her presence as unsafe. So I turned away and hid my face in shame, convinced I was unlovable and fundamentally flawed.

Shame, the ancient weapon Satan delights in, has always ripped relationships apart. It leads to rupture rather than reconciliation. Even in Eden, shame entered the story as the serpent cloaked Adam and Eve with it after their disobedience. “The eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves” (Genesis 3:7). I may not have used fig leaves, but I used the clothes in my closet to hide and to cover my emotional nakedness.

David, who penned Psalm 139, knew what I have slowly learned: That the God Who Sees never loses sight of me. There is no hiding from Him. “Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?  If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!” (Psalm 139:7–8). And in my case, if I hide in my closet, He is still there.

Back to Eden: When Adam and Eve hid, God went after them. The God of redemption sought repair, and Heather, made in the image of that same pursuing God, came after me, too, redirecting my gaze to my Redeemer and my hope.

Hope serves as a safeguard against unhealthy, and even deadly, ways of coping. Hope is the key to enduring unimaginable pain on this earth, and it was through remembering my hope that I saw the lies of Satan I was believing. 

When Death Pretended To Be a Savior

The enemy had been wielding my dad’s suicide as a weapon against me, whispering that copying his act was a way out of the pain. But “God is faithful; He will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation He will also provide the way out so that you may be able to bear it” (1 Corinthians 10:13). My way out came through a believer who sat with me in my dark hiding place and held me. Perhaps her presence was a refuge in that moment, but I knew who my true Refuge was, for “God is our refuge and strength, a very present  help in trouble,” (Psalm 46:1). 

Her pursuit was rewiring my brain to understand the safety found in connection to others. Ultimately, I was tasting the safe love of the Good Shepherd who cares for the one who wanders.

Carried By The Shepherd

Knowing I’d gone astray, she whispered in my ear how a shepherd will place a lost lamb around his neck and carry it home. In that moment, a decades-old journal entry came to mind that recorded my salvation story. It happened while volunteering in an overseas orphanage, where God used joyful orphans to show me what I lacked: Jesus. I confessed my sin and the suicidal thoughts I cherished to my college pastor and was born again on a warm night in Africa. In that journal, I recorded my pastor’s words as he referenced the parable of the lost sheep:

“When I was praying for you, I saw that you were that one sheep that has wandered off, but God has gone out, picked you up, and placed you on his shoulders to carry you back. You are beginning a new season in your life, one that will be very close with Christ. So close it’s as if He is holding you.”

Through my friend’s embodied presence and Christlike embrace, I felt the Shepherd’s presence. He was healing my broken heart and binding up my childhood wounds. He was carrying me back into the fold, fulfilling words spoken over me decades earlier. 

The Snare That Nearly Stole Me

Shame began to soften, but I still had to face the truth: I had wandered. God loves us as we are, but too much to leave us as we are. In Scripture, the Greek phrase for “has gone astray” means to wander or to be led into deception. I had been deceived into believing death would rescue me from pain, but my Shepherd was reminding me that He would sustain me through it. Suicide is a snare Satan disguises as a savior. What a tragedy that I nearly took his bait; what a testimony that God rescued me. And my rescue was not by way of condemnation, but rather His kindness intended to bring me to repentance (Romans 2:4). 

I walked out of that closet as if I were Lazarus being called from the grave. Jesus “shouted with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ The dead man came out, bound hand and foot with linen strips, and with his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said, ‘Unwrap him and let him go’” (John 11:44). I didn’t audibly hear Jesus call my name, but my spirit knew He was. I couldn’t yet see how everything would be okay, but even Lazarus stepped out before his face was unwrapped. That is walking by faith, not by sight. That moment in the closet was a tender encounter with my Shepherd, personally curated by Christ, who knows my name and the most meaningful ways to pursue me.

Hearing The Shepherd’s Voice

Today, if the enemy is calling you away from perseverance, my prayer is that you will hear your Shepherd’s voice. “He calls His own sheep by name and leads them out” (John 10:3). His sheep respond because they belong to Him. His voice carries relationship, recognition, and in John 11, resurrection power. The beauty of Lazarus being released from death foreshadows the final resurrection, when Jesus will call once more and “All who are in their graves will hear His voice and come out” (John 5:28–29).

Do I still struggle at times? Yes. Of course. Is it still hard at times to be vulnerable with other believers? Yes. But we were never meant to do life alone, and our pain as God’s children has an expiration date. It will not last forever. The Shepherd who walks with you through today’s valley of the shadow of death will one day wipe away every last tear, and you will dwell with Him in perfect joy forever. 

“Only goodness and faithful love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD as long as I live.” — Psalm 23:6

Author Bio:

Julie Busler is a Bible teacher, author, and speaker who she has authored two books: Joyful Sorrow: Breaking Through the Darkness of Mental Illness and Hopeful Sorrow: Turning To God in Hope When Childhood Wounds Have You Turning Away. Julie, and her husband, Ryan, have 4 children and have served as missionaries in Canada, Mexico, Germany, and Turkey. Connect with Julie on her website: www.juliebusler.com, or on social media: @juliebusler.

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