“Do not mistreat or oppress a foreigner, for you were foreigners in Egypt. “Do not take advantage of the widow or the fatherless. If you do and they cry out to me, I will certainly hear their cry.” (Exodus 22:21-23)

We arrived at Many Glacier Lodge in Glacier National Park just before dinner.  Our evening plans included eating a quick meal on the wrap-around deck, followed by a 3-mile hike around Swiftcurrent Lake.

We were in the middle of dinner when people inside the lodge started tapping on the window and pointing our attention toward the water’s edge.  A mother moose and her calf had come out of the woods and waded into the water about 50 feet away from where we were sitting.  With hungry children of our own to feed, we had almost missed one of the coolest wildlife sightings of our trip.

Approximately an hour later, we set off on our evening hike, following a path that led us near the area where we had seen the moose re-enter the forest.  We hadn’t gone more than a few yards before the trees seemed to close in around us, and the woods suddenly felt sinister.  I could feel the hair standing up on the back of my neck, and my steps slowed until they stopped altogether.

We ended up turning back.   It was really our only option, since my feet were refusing to move a single step further down the trail.  We did about half of the hike in the opposite direction, singing boisterously along the way. My hope was to alert all large, intimidating animals to our presence so that they would choose to avoid us.

I’m think my husband fell asleep that night thinking that our vacation was ruined.  That I was going to refuse to go on all of the hikes he had so carefully mapped out for us.  But, by the next morning, I was fine.  We took a boat ride across the lake and hiked back to the lodge along the very same path where I was unable to move the day before. It no longer felt scary at all.

I’ve since reached the conclusion that the woods along the path were actually dangerous that first evening.  Mama Moose was out there with her vulnerable baby, who she was ready to defend against anyone or anything that posed a threat.

It’s comforting to think that God feels that same fierce mother-love for me. That the all-knowing and all-powerful God of the universe comes to my defense. And for all I know, my fear the first night in Glacier was Him protecting me from traveling a dangerous trail.

But it also seems important to remember that God feels the same way about all of His children.  When I am the one posing the threat to someone else—by living selfishly, speaking unkindly, refusing to forgive, or any number of other things that I do to harm others—God is fiercely defending them from me. 

And being on the opposite side of God’s protection is a place I want to avoid even more than the trail that evening in Glacier.