Remember the climate crisis? We don’t hear about it much anymore, what with its being upstaged by other more urgent (?!) emergencies. Our newsfeeds are full of images guaranteed to keep us awake at night. It is, by any measure, a time of high anxiety. 

If misery loves company, then Psalm 46 is our psalm. Chaos is all around. First, there is cosmic chaos. (It’s never a good thing when the mountains slip into the heart of the sea.) Then, there is political chaos with the nations and the kingdoms slipping (That’s terrifying, too—just in a different way.)  But there is stillness here, too. We might even call it a peace that “surpasses all understanding” (Philippians 4:7).

In the midst of this psalm’s chaos, the city of Jerusalem stands serene. It’s a still point at the center of the psalm—a place of safety where the people of God can take refuge. Why? Because God is there. “The Lord of hosts is with us,” the psalmist says. “The God of Jacob is our refuge.”

In a time when people frequently fail to make a distinction between ancient Israel and the modern state of Israel, it feels a bit risky to call attention to the fact that “Lord of hosts” is literally “Lord of armies.” And it is even more risky to claim that this Lord of armies is on a particular side. Still, I think it’s worth “going there” if we are careful about these caveats.

I’ve often wondered what specific situation gave rise to this psalm. It sounds like something that could have been written the night before a battle—maybe one of those times when Jerusalem was under siege. “God will help it when morning dawns,” the psalmist says. And even though there is reason to be afraid, the psalmist hears God saying, “Be still! Be still and know that I am God.” 

It can’t have been easy to “be still” in that situation. It isn’t easy. When we’re afraid—when we feel our anxiety rising—it’s as if fear takes us by the throat. We start to panic. We want to run. But just when we feel like the fear is going to win, we hear God’s voice saying, “Be still. Be still.” 

Our first thoughts might be, “Seriously? You want me to be still? In this situation?” 

It’s only when we remember who God is that this inner stillness—this peace that passes understanding—is possible. The psalm says, “Be still and know that I am God. I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth.”

So what if the nations are slipping—I am King of kings and Lord of lords!

So what if the mountains are slipping—I am the creator of heaven and earth!

Remember who you’re dealing with. The Lord of Hosts is with you—the God of Jacob is your refuge.

It’s easy to understand why this psalm has been such a blessing to so many people over the centuries. I know it’s been a blessing to me. I think of it as my “radiation psalm.” Twenty years ago I was diagnosed with early-stage breast cancer. And I took this psalm with me every time I went in for a radiation treatment—reciting it in my head as I waited for the radiation to do its work.

“Be still,” the technicians would say to me. That’s good advice under the circumstances, since you don’t want them to irradiate the wrong place. But for me, their reminder also reminded me to “be still” in my soul—to take refuge in the knowledge that God was with me, no matter what. To take refuge in the fact that “whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s” (Romans 14:8).

Does this inner stillness mean that we sit back and do nothing? Of course not. I still had to get my radiation treatments. The psalmist probably still made sure his weapons were sharp. Yet the psalm suggests that there is a kind of inner stillness that is possible even in the midst of such preparations.

We still need to protest, to vote, and to do whatever we can to combat climate change. But as we do, we can be sure of one thing: The Lord of Hosts is with us, and the God of Jacob is our refuge. And that, is what makes it possible for us to face whatever comes with peace, courage, confidence, and joy. May God give you all of those things—now and in all the years ahead.

*All biblical quotes are from the NRSVUE

Shhhh photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash