In a large place

From my distress I called upon the Lord; the Lord answered me and set me in a large place. The Lord is for me, I will not fear, what can man do to me? The Lord is for me among those who help me. (Ps. 118:5-6)
  Distress is a word which comes from the Latin word distringere which means to stretch apart. I love the word picture from Lord of the Rings in which Bilbo Baggins says, " I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped across too much toast." The expectations of ourselves and others are at the root of our quandary, but here, rather than this be the focus, our attention is immediately drawn to the Lord, who is there, who answers and sets us in a large place.
  In this chapter and throughout king David's life for that matter, he was aware of enemies who sought his demise and by God's sovereign grace he was able to allude them time and time again. Being in a large place from a military standpoint would have been a place of safety because of his enemies being seen from afar off where he could plan and implement his strategies of defense. Sudden attack is what every great, military strategist plans against defensively.
  Apart from this perspective, one of the most profound experiences of my life happened in a large place which, like no other, left me with a new perspective on large places. When I was 14, I spent the summer with my uncle exploring the Canadian Rockies (Banff, Yoho, Jasper) . I will never forget how large and expansive was the lay of the land with its enormous, jagged, snow capped mountains looming over head and all around. I remember thinking on a smaller scale, one that I was familiar with and wondering why it seemed to take so long getting to the nearest mountain which seemed so close and yet so far away. We put in to Lake Louise with my uncle's homemade canoe and silently glided to the center of the lake on turquoise, glacial waters that seemed more like paint than water. It was at the center of this large place I sensed the fear of being so small and vulnerable.  The canoe we were in was made with a skin of fabric stretched over a wooden rib cage. In my young, uninformed mind, my thought was that, in the midst of these opaque waters, it only stands to reason that something very large might want to have us for lunch and there was no way to see it coming. All I could say at that point was on my epitaph it might read,  "he didn't see it coming".