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547_Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord

Psalm 114 When Israel went out from Egypt,
the house of Jacob from a people of strange language,
2 Judah became his sanctuary,
Israel his dominion.

3 The sea looked and fled;
Jordan turned back.
4 The mountains skipped like rams,
the hills like lambs.

5 What ails you, O sea, that you flee?
O Jordan, that you turn back?
6 O mountains, that you skip like rams?
O hills, like lambs?

7 Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord,
at the presence of the God of Jacob,
8 who turns the rock into a pool of water,
the flint into a spring of water.

A young shepherd boy once wandered into a vast cathedral. He had never seen anything like it before—the vaulted ceilings, the towering columns, the colorful stained glass windows. The voices of the choir echoed through the arches, making a melody so beautiful that he trembled, though he didn’t understand the words. He later said, “I didn’t know what it was, but I knew God was there.”

Such wonder sometimes precedes the fear of the Lord. It’s not terror, but awe. The fear of the Lord is what grips us when we believe in God who created the mountains, parted the seas, and spoke galaxies into existence-but also calls us by name. It’s the awe of knowing we are closely watched, completely known, wholly loved, and fully accountable before the Best and Highest of beings.

The psalm provides a glimpse of God’s greatness, using the context of Israel’s redemption from Egypt. It looks back to the glorious days when the mountains and the seas trembled in awe at the presence of God. This poetic retelling of Israel’s deliverance from Egypt reminds us that all nature quakes before the majesty of God, its creator and ruler.

The psalm begins with Israel’s exodus: “When Israel went out of Egypt, the house of Jacob from a people of strange language, Judah became His sanctuary, and Israel His dominion.” Here was a nation of slaves, oppressed and powerless. For four hundred years, they lived under the authority of Egypt, and for much of that time, under a cruel tyrant. Yet God brought them out with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.

The miracle was not just in the dramatic events of the Exodus—the plagues, the Passover, the parting of the Red Sea. God’s unseen but no less powerful hand preserved His people throughout those long centuries in Egypt. When Joseph summoned him to come live in Egypt and escape the famine, God appeared to him in a dream and said, “I myself will go down with you to Egypt” (Genesis 46:4). It wasn’t an exile—God was accompanying them into preservation.

That’s the first miracle. The knowledge of God that Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob passed down to their sons kept Israel from intermarrying with the Egyptians. They lived separate though in the same land. They did not blend with Egyptian culture. The racism and discrimination that they faced played its role in keeping them distinct. The oppression of Egypt was used by God to protect them.

Then there was the miracle of identity. When Joseph first rose to power in Egypt, he spoke the Egyptian language fluently, and dressed like the Egyptians; his brothers couldn’t even recognize him. Yet when Israel left Egypt, the psalmist calls it “a people of strange language.” Israel’s tongue, customs, and faith remained intact. They entered Egypt as a family of seventy-two people; they left as a nation of millions. Psalm 105 says, “The Lord made His people very fruitful and made them stronger than their foes.” For when God makes a promise, nothing can stand in the way of its fulfillment.

As Israel came out of Egypt, the psalmist says, “Judah became His sanctuary, and Israel His dominion.” God brought his people out of Egypt that he might dwell among them. His presence and ownership was their identity.

Psalm 114 says, “The sea looked and fled; the Jordan turned back.” All nature recognized its Master and dared not stand in Israel’s way. The Red Sea and the Jordan both fled before them because of the power of the Name that they followed.

The psalm continues with this vivid picture: “The mountains skipped like rams, the hills like lambs.” The huge and solid mountains, models of permanence, trembled and leapt like young lambs before the Lord. Exodus 19 describes the descent of God on Mount Sinai: thunder, lightning, smoke, fire, and the whole mountain quaking violently. The people trembled too as they stood at the foot of the mountain-not from curiosity, but from sheer awe.

The poet continues to ask, “Why this strange behavior?” And the answer comes: “Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob, who turns the rock into a pool of water, the flint into a spring of water.”

It was not Israel, but Israel’s God, who inspired such fear in inanimate nature. All the elements of earth recognized their Maker. As creator, he brought water from rock and bread from the clouds, seemingly. He brings life from death.

The book of Job echoes this truth: “Ask the beasts, and they will teach you… or the fish of the sea, and they will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this?” (Job 12:7–9). Nature, in its silent testimony, continually reveals the majesty of its Creator. The theme replays through scripture.

The Red Sea obeyed. The Jordan River obeyed. The sun stood still for Joshua. The ravens fed Elijah. The donkey spoke to Balaam. The storm on the Sea of Galilee was calmed at the word of Christ. The fish brought a coin to Peter. The worm that destroyed Jonah’s shade-giving vine responded instantly.

And yet, the very creatures made in His image, human beings endowed with reason and will, so often resist Him. Nature trembles in obedience, but we, the crown of creation, rebel.

The psalm’s message is clear: the earth trembles at his rebuke and the exercise of his might. How much more should we respond in humble praise and thankfulness to his majesty and goodness? We who have received His grace, who know His love revealed in Christ—shouldn’t we tremble and rejoice before the God who is love but is yet a consuming fire?

As Hebrews 12 reminds us: “See that you do not refuse Him who is speaking… Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire.”

To live with a sense of awe before God is not to live in fear. It is to know that God, great and mighty, faithful in love, unflinching in commitment, is worthy of the utmost praise, trust, and obedience. Nothing else commands our faith as God does, for nothing holds a candle to him. His word is not just mere words, but the voice of God that stirs our hearts and transforms our lives. Prayer is not a ritual or a shopping list, but a time to humbly commit ourselves to his mighty and perfect will.

Psalm 114 calls us to rediscover the humility and wonder of faith. For God is the one who not only shakes the mountains and parts the seas, but quells the storms and quietens the raging waters. He rules heaven and earth, and subdues all who are proud.

When we face impossible obstacles—when the path seems blocked like Israel’s at the Red Sea—let us remember that the sea fled at His presence. When we feel dry, let us remember and come to him who called, “Everyone who is thirsty, let him come and drink without money and without price.” When we realize our powerlessness, let us also remember that the mountains skip at his presence.

Let us, then, worship Him—not with empty words, but with reverent hearts. For the mighty God lives and rules in us through his Spirit, and builds in us his holy temple. God bless.