The following is a poem written in December of 2003 by an English teacher at an alternative school for high school dropouts where I was the principal.
So, I am asking again: What kind of trouble am I?
Am I trouble when I ask the Lord to cause those in my tent and of my tribe to dwell safely in His shelter and remain secure in His shadow where no enemy can get to them?
Am I trouble when I speak for the ones I love and declare that He is our refuge and our fortress, and when I ask Him to save us from the snares, the deadly pestilences, the terrors of the night and the arrows that fly by day?
Am I trouble when I believe (for all of us in my tent and of my tribe) that the Lord will make sure we will only be spectators to the divine repayment of the wicked [as we watch safely from His shelter]?
Am I trouble when I acknowledge that He has commanded His angels to protect and defend and guard us in all our ways [of obedience and service] by lifting us up in their hands so that we don’t even strike our feet against stones?
Am I trouble when I encourage the ones I love to call upon Him because He will answer and be with them in trouble, rescuing and honoring them, satisfying each one with long life and displaying His salvation?
Yes, I believe I just may be trouble. See Psalm 91 (AMP).