"Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it" (Genesis 28:16).

The story goes that Jacob was travelling to Padan Aram to marry one of Laban’s daughters.  More than a day’s journey, we are told that when the sun had set Jacob decided to find a place to lie down to sleep.  He pulled up a rock to lay his head upon, stretched himself out on the ground and, I imagine, mentioned the purpose of his trip in his prayers that night.

Certainly, he logically prepared to overnight.  With the commonest of sense, he found a suitable place, as natural as the ground and as ordinary as a rock, to sleep on.  There he became unmistakably aware of the presence of the Lord and said, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.”

This brings to mind others whose stories speak the same theme from places as normal as a wedding feast, on old well and a boat in stormy weather. Once they knew where the wine came from, the servants at the wedding at Cana could well have said, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.”  After speaking with Jesus at the well, the Samaritan woman essentially said, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.”  After hearing Jesus say, “It is I,” as He approached the boat in the storm, the disciples too would have said, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.” 

It seems to me that while water has never been changed into wine in my kitchen, some of the best meals have come from near-empty cupboards.  Is the Lord not involved in this?  And what of those daily places where Jesus reminds me to drink from Him?  And what of the storms which buffet my boat?  I would rather not be in a storm in the dark and four miles from shore, but the Word, “It is I,” assures. 

Most of our daily preparations, decisions and doings are as automatic as the setting sun and as normal as dirt, yet in these earthy places, heaven is at hand.    At day’s end we can lie down and say, "Surely the Lord was with me in all these places, and I did not always know it." 

Author: Carolyn Roehrig