With God, Part 3: Dwelling in the Secret Place

By Rick Dill, Pastor Emeritus

There comes a moment in every believer’s life when we begin to realize that knowing about God is not the same as truly knowing Him. That realization doesn’t usually come in a dramatic moment. It often comes quietly—through reflection, through hardship, or through the simple recognition that something is missing.

Psalm 91 begins with a promise that many of us know well, but perhaps haven’t fully considered:

“He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.”

That word dwells is doing a lot of work in this verse. It doesn’t describe a passing visit or a momentary encounter. It speaks of remaining, of settling in, of making one’s home in the presence of God. The psalmist is not talking about a person who checks in with God when life gets difficult. He is describing someone who has chosen to live there—to stay close, to remain near, to abide.

And that is where many of us struggle.

We know how to attend church. We know how to sing the songs, quote the verses, and recognize the rhythms of worship. Many of us have done those things our entire lives. But dwelling requires something deeper than familiarity. It requires intention.

A person can grow up in church, know every hymn by heart, and still never truly learn how to live in God’s presence. At some point, faith must move beyond routine and become relationship. Psalm 91 is not describing casual faith. It is calling us to a deliberate decision to live near God, to trust Him fully, and to remain under His care.

When we dwell with God, we don’t just seek Him when life is hard. We remain with Him when life is ordinary. And that changes everything.

There is a quiet strength that comes from dwelling. Scripture tells us that the one who abides in God’s presence finds shelter under His shadow. That language is intentional. It speaks of protection, of nearness, of being close enough to feel the covering of His presence. God’s peace and protection are not random blessings handed out without reason. They flow from relationship.

The one who dwells learns to trust.
The one who dwells learns to listen.
The one who dwells finds strength that circumstances alone cannot explain.

So often, we want God’s hand without wanting His heart. We want His help but not His nearness. We want His blessing without allowing His presence to shape us. But God does not separate His power from His presence. The secret place is not an escape from the world; it is the place where we are anchored in God while still living in it.

This truth becomes especially clear in the story of Paul in Acts 27. Paul finds himself in the middle of a violent storm while sailing as a prisoner. The ship is being battered. The crew is terrified. They have done everything humanly possible to survive, and still the storm rages on. Hope is fading.

And yet, in the middle of all that chaos, Paul stands up and says something remarkable:

“Take heart, men, for I believe God.”

That statement did not come from denial or blind optimism. It came from a life that had been shaped by time in God’s presence. Paul could stand calmly in the storm because he had already learned how to stand before God. While others panicked, Paul trusted. While others feared loss, Paul believed the promise.

That kind of confidence does not come from a single prayer or a moment of emotion. It comes from a life spent dwelling with God.

This is where many of us struggle. Dwelling does not come naturally. We are busy. We are distracted. We are tired. Every time we try to slow down, something demands our attention. Every time we try to pray, the phone buzzes. Every time we open Scripture, our minds wander.

But the truth is simple: we make time for what matters most.

If something is important to us, we find room for it. Dwelling with God does not happen accidentally. It happens when we decide that He deserves more than what is left over after everything else is done.

That is why practices like prayer, fasting, and time in the Word matter. Not because they earn us anything, but because they realign us. Fasting teaches us discipline. Prayer teaches us dependence. Scripture teaches us truth. Over time, these practices shape our hearts and reorient our desires.

And when we dwell with God, He meets us there.

In Acts 27, Paul later tells the crew that an angel of the Lord stood beside him in the storm. That moment did not happen by chance. It happened because Paul had already learned how to live in God’s presence. He wasn’t seeking God only in crisis—he was already walking with Him.

When we dwell with God, fear begins to lose its grip. Faith grows stronger. Perspective changes. Peace becomes possible, even when circumstances don’t improve.

Sometimes God calms the storm.
Sometimes He calms His people in the storm.

And sometimes, as in Paul’s case, the ship doesn’t survive—but the people do.

That is an important lesson for all of us. God does not promise a life without storms, but He does promise His presence in the midst of them. He does not always remove the trial, but He never abandons those who dwell with Him.

So the invitation is simple, but it is not easy.

Choose to dwell.

Before you reach for your phone, reach for God.
Before you rush into the day, spend a moment in prayer.
Before you look for answers, sit quietly in His presence.

Make room for Him.

Because when you do, you will discover that the God who calls you to dwell with Him is the same God who walks with you through every storm. And when the winds rise and the waves crash, you will be able to say with confidence:

“I believe God.”

Not because life is perfect.
Not because the storm has passed.
But because you have learned to live in His presence.

And that makes all the difference.

Bishop Rick Dill