Jessica Levy Books

I recently had the opportunity to visit Fort Macon on the coast of North Carolina. Built in the early 19th century to defend the harbor, the fort became pivotal during the Civil War as a Confederate stronghold which was later upturned and claimed by Union forces. Destroyed and restored, the fort is now a beautiful symphony of aged brick arches, retired black cannons, and greenery, surrounded by the waves of the Atlantic and sparkling sand dunes of the Bogue Banks.

The distinguishing feature of Fort Macon is that it does not stand tall as a fortified installment may be expected to, but rather it was constructed into the ground. Descending the path from the entrance into the fort felt almost majestic: two sets of wide curved wooden doors opened to a courtyard.

But as my husband climbed the steps to take a picture, I became very aware that I was alone in a pit, a feeling with which I am well-acquainted.

The pit is not the place we want to be. In his psalms, David generally referred to the pit of despair or destruction (35:7-8). The pit was home to ravenous lions (2 Samuel 23:20), it was a trap (Psalm 9:15, 57:6), a prison (Jonah 2:6), and it was even Hell itself (Isaiah 14:15). My own pits have included despair, depression, bitterness, and relational traps. No lions, though, thank God.

The pit is lonely and dark. It is muddy and uncomfortable. Usually after a few days in the pit, I can’t wait to get out. When I look up into the mouth of the pit, I see God reaching down for me and he is faithful to lift me up!

He lifted me out of the slimy pit,

    out of the mud and mire;

he set my feet on a rock

    and gave me a firm place to stand.

PSALM 40:2

When I am in the pit and I see God in the light, I can’t help but climb toward him. When I can climb no more, I can’t help but take hold of the hand he offers. Someday I will learn I can take his hand sooner and do less climbing, but I’m getting there.

What happens, though, when we don’t see God in the light? What happens when we don’t look up to find his face? After a few days in the pit, I tend to seek him out, but what do I do those first few days? I wallow in the mud and mire!

My foolish heart longs for this trap, longs to entrench myself into this despair, to justify my bitterness and stay in the destructive relationship. I actually desire the pit! So I begin to fortify my position. I surrond myself with bricks to defend my wounds and I replay the offense in my mind, stirring my passion for nothing but unjoy. I isolate myself and shut out the world. I might even invite some lions to the party!

It is all too natural for us to become stuck in our pain, our offense, our wounds. We choose to close ourselves off in a dark corner rather than turning to the light. Have you laid bricks to fortify your heart today? Have you fallen into the pit and decided to take up residence? Are you nurturing wounds and closing off love because it’s easier than dealing with your pain and allowing God to take you through his healing process?

It’s time to look up to the light, no matter how small or far away it may seem. It’s time to reach out for his hand and allow him to bring you out. He will not only lift you out of the pit, but he will set your feet on a rock.

Fort Macon is a state park now because it fell short as a fort. It took Union soldiers only hours to capture it and it wasn’t even used in WWI. The strongest position you can take in life will never be found in a pit, it’s in the firm place that only God can give you to stand.

To its credit, Fort Macon was used in WWII but hasn’t been used since. Reference for this tidbit and other facts about Fort Macon:

Branch, P. (2006, January 1). Fort Macon. NCpedia. https://www.ncpedia.org/fort-macon.