480_Be still and know that He is God

Psalm 46 God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,
though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,
3 though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble at its swelling. Selah

4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy habitation of the Most High.
5 God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved;
God will help her when morning dawns.
6 The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;
he utters his voice, the earth melts.
7 The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah

8 Come, behold the works of the Lord,
how he has brought desolations on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the chariots with fire.
10 “Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!”
11 The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah

In 2010, a massive earthquake struck Haiti. Over 200,000 people were killed, and millions were left homeless. In the midst of this devastation, one story stood out.

At a collapsed school building in Port-au-Prince, rescuers heard a faint sound—a voice singing. After nearly four days beneath the rubble, they discovered a young girl, no older than seven, trapped but alive. She was singing a simple Christian song she had learned in Sunday school: “God is so good, He’s so good to me.” Over and over she sang those words in the dark, buried under broken concrete and twisted steel. When they finally pulled her out, weak and bruised but alive, one of the rescuers said, “We found her by following the voice of hope.”

How powerful was hope for that child, buried under the wreckage of disaster, but still singing because she believed in the goodness of God. That’s the heart of Psalm 46. It’s not a promise that disasters won’t come. It’s not a denial of pain or fear. It’s a bold declaration in the midst of it: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”

This psalm strengthens people who are buried in grief and uncertainty, by life’s sudden catastrophes. It speaks to all who feel the ground beneath them shift. It is not a call to bravery, but a call to trust: God is our refuge. He is not distant. He is not an idea. He is a present help—right here, right now, in the mess.

He is a refuge and help present amidst the most uncontrollable forces we know—natural disasters. “Though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea.” Earthquakes, landslides, tsunamis—amidst the events that make us feel utterly powerless, we can declare, “We will not fear.” Not because we are strong, or above suffering. But because God is near, and that nearness makes all the difference.

This doesn’t mean we have to put on a brave face or pretend everything’s okay. The psalmist has a confidence that is born from his knowledge of the living God. This is no vague comfort, but a firmly grounded assurance that He walks with his people in the fire, and stays with us in the storm. Like He told Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” When we truly believe that, our hearts enter his rest.

The psalm then shifts to a beautiful and almost poetic image: “There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God.” This is a profound phrase in the context of Jerusalem. For unlike many ancient cities, Jerusalem had no river running through it. Water is life, especially in the ancient world, and Jerusalem’s lack of a natural river made it vulnerable to siege—until King Hezekiah had a tunnel dug, secretly bringing water into the city from the Gihon Spring.

When the Assyrian king Sennacherib laid siege to Jerusalem, he likely thought the city would surrender quickly for lack of water. But unknown to him, a hidden stream sustained the people of God.

What truth lies in the picture painted by the psalmist! When the world expects us to collapse, when circumstances press on us, and enemies surround us, there is a secret source that gives us renewed life. The presence of God is that secret stream. The world sees weakness, but we drink from living water. He is in our midst, and “she shall not be moved.”

The psalm continues, “The nations rage, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts.” God is not just our refuge from chaos; He is sovereign over all things. He speaks, and His word carries power over all the earth. He commands, and empires rise and fall at His will. It is not treaties or negotiations or military might that ultimately bring peace. It is the power of the Almighty God that makes wars cease. He is the One who breaks the bow and shatters the spear. Human history bends to His will.

For the mighty One who created all things, to whom all the earth belongs, commands quiet: “Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” As the Lord commanded the storm, using the same words, “Peace, be still,” so God tells the world of warring nations, who threaten his people, to be quiet. And as the storm obeyed him, so do the nations.

Like quarreling children, the nations are forced to stop their wars when he intervenes. In spite of their malice, they are powerless before his majesty. In the great and terrible moment when God commands the world to keep silence before him, when he breaks the weapons of war, the glory of the Lord alone shall be exalted, as Isaiah says.

And to his people, who are bent and bruised and broken by the grief and suffering of war, he says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” We don’t have to do more. We don’t need to figure it out or fight harder. For God is with us.

Stillness is not passivity. It’s not giving up. It is the attitude of wisdom that stops trying to do what only God can do. It is the humility of people who stand in such awe of the majesty of God that they are at peace in their integrity and trust. The more troubled the waters, the more furious the storm, the greater the opportunity for God’s people to trust him.

The psalm ends where it began: “The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.” This repeated phrase answers the deepest question of the human heart: Are we alone? No. The Lord of hosts is with us. That word means covenantal faithfulness and commitment to the very end.

When life shakes us to the core, when inexplicable losses occur, when the pressure is unbearable and our fears persistent, let us ground our faith on who God is. Not just in our lives, but throughout history, He is the God who parted the sea, who fed millions in the desert, who calmed the storm, who raised the dead. He is hardly overwhelmed. His thoughts are immeasurably higher than our thoughts, and His ways higher than ours.

Let us stop reckoning up our own resources. Let us stop depending on our own strength. Let us stop rehearsing our fears and rest in His sufficiency. Let us fix our eyes, not on the fog around us, but on the God who is with us. Psalm 34 sings: “I sought the Lord, and He answered me and delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to Him are radiant; their faces shall never be ashamed.”

Nations may rage. The earth may be shaken. But our foundation remains unshaken. We can hear the voice of God rebuking the nations, and they become still. And they will know, as we already know, that He is God.

Knowing the mighty power of God is enough to bring us to the peace that surpasses understanding. It can calm the wildest fears, steady the weakest hearts, and give us the strength to sing—yes, even in the rubble. For he is king and at his command, all the earth will obey and settle into silence. And as this truth goes down deep into our hearts, we will be still with the quietness of humble trust. God bless.