For the past few months, our small group has been studying the Psalms. Perhaps “studying” implies something too formal; at times we have consulted commentaries and such, while at other times we have simply gleaned from the collective musings, experiences, wonderings, and gut reactions of a wonderful, diverse group of people.
Last week, a dear sister in our group led us in reflecting on our own encounters with Psalms in the heartaches and joys of regular life. There were sweet stories of just the right verse being discovered at just the right time. There were moments of hallowed silence. There was laughter. There were tears. The richness of the Psalms was reflected in the myriad of life experiences shared in that group.
I have my own Psalm Story. When I’m scanning through the book of Psalms in my Bible, I’m often stopped by Psalm 46, under whose title is scribbled “June 8, 2003” in the very adolescent bubble handwriting I had in high school. June 8, 2003 was the Sunday after my high school graduation. I sat in church that morning, sleep-deprived, dehydrated from all the tears you cry when saying good-bye to all your best friends and dorm siblings. That morning, sitting in church, I stumbled across Psalm 46:
“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day…He says, ‘Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.’ The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.”
As inconsequential as a high school graduation may seem, my mountain had fallen into the heart of the sea, and I desperately needed to read the words “therefore, we will not fear.” Because God is our refuge and strength, we will not fear. Amen.
Little did I know how much that passage would mean to me in the coming months. I flew into Chicago on an August evening just in time for freshman orientation weekend. I had never been to Illinois before, and as my eyes beheld the expansive grid of streetlights and houselights below the plane, I frantically thought, “Where are the hills?!” My heart ached that year for the figurative and literal mountains I’d known, and tightly I clung to “therefore, we will not fear.”
Lord, you are our refuge when the earth gives way from under us, when life becomes a quaking, surging mess. Help us to trust in your strong fortress. Help us to be still. Help us to know that you are the I Am, that you are the exalted God.