I abruptly pulled over to the side of the road. The summer heat had been bearable as the wind blew through our hair, but now we had come to a complete stop. My face felt like I had just opened the oven to remove a finished casserole. I didn’t yet know the extent of the damage.

Car after car zoomed by as I awkwardly half-jogged back toward the crash site.

Moments earlier, the golf cart’s electric motor hummed as we moseyed down the road. We couldn’t hear it over the music, though. Two Bluetooth speakers mounted inside the windshield blared our favorite tunes. Dinner was our destination, and Knox (eight-years-old at the time) kept our favorite songs close to his little thumb as he scrolled through our family playlist on my phone. My mind drifted between song lyrics and thoughts of how enjoyable our beach vacation had been.

Then the music abruptly stopped.

A bit confused, I looked over at our little DJ only to find him empty-handed, his palms facing upward. With shrugged shoulders, he gave me a pale look. I quickly asked, “What happened?”

I could tell he didn’t quite know what to say.

“It just… uh… it just slipped,” he responded.

Then it all hit me.

The phone had jumped ship and slammed into the scorching pavement about fifty yards behind us. Surely it had either been smashed into several hundred pieces or crushed by a passing tire.

Sweat dripped from my forehead as I hurried down the road. With squinted eyes, I spotted three pieces of “something” lying near the edge of the white line. As I closed in on what I imagined would be an iPhone pancake, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

The case had split in half, and between those two halves lay my phone.

To my surprise, it had suffered no damage. It was perfectly intact.

The case had protected it.

I trusted the phone case for the occasional small drop, but not for a wreck like that. Likewise, it seems easy to trust God for the small things, but He’s harder to trust with the big stuff.

Despite countless biblical accounts of God’s protection through shipwrecks, floods, enraged rulers bent on murder, lions’ dens, and fiery furnaces—not to mention the miracles I’ve seen in my own life and in the lives of those around me—it can still be difficult to believe that taking refuge in the shelter of the Most High is the safest place to be.

The antidote?

Wage war against cynicism.

Cynicism sneaks into our lives through the messages and values our world offers. If we aren’t careful, we can lose trust in what is ultimately true as followers of the risen Christ.

Here’s a starter kit for waging war against cynicism:

Watch your mouth. Think about your conversations over the last week. Are they beginning with, “Let me tell you what God is showing me right now,” or, “I have to tell you where God showed up today”? Or do more of your conversations start with, “That stupid politician just…” or, “I cannot stand…”?

Watch your thoughts. Write down the stories of God’s provision in your life and revisit them often. Don’t build a house on your negative thoughts—pitch a tent there instead. Then quickly take it down by replacing those thoughts with what God says is true.

Watch your inputs. Take in content that stirs your affection for Jesus more than the 24-hour news cycle, social media, or streaming services. You may be surprised by the peace and relief it provides.

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” Psalm 91:1-2

Just fishing with my daddy,

Ryan

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