Psalms ALIVE!
How Lovely Is Your Dwelling Place
Posted by: David Kitz on Thursday, March 12th, 2009
Psalm 84
Verses 1-4
Of the Sons of Korah
How lovely is your dwelling place, O LORD Almighty!
My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the LORD;
my heart and flesh cry out for the living God.
Even the sparrow has found a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may have her young – a place near your altar,
O LORD Almighty, my King and my God.
Blessed are those who dwell in your house;
they are ever praising you. (Selah)
Maybe it’s because Canadian Christendom is architecturally challenged, but the images of a church do not spring to mind, when I read the opening lines of this psalm. Perhaps if I lived in Europe, the lovely dwelling place of the LORD referred to here would instantly prompt me to imagine one of the grand cathedrals, such as Chartres, Notre Dame in Paris or St. Paul’s in London.
Nevertheless, I identify with this psalm. There are times when I am in full agreement with the Psalmist. I echo his thoughts. My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the LORD; my heart and flesh cry out for the living God.
I want to be with God. I want to be close to him. I want to be lost in wonder and sense his glory all around me. There are times when I have known that closeness; I have experienced that wonder. Now I long for a return to that closeness. Like a desert wanderer yearns for water, I yearn for God. My heart and flesh cry out for the living God.
Sometimes I have found that closeness to God in a church. For me it comes most frequently during times of corporate worship. As songs of praise and worship reach a crescendo, I sense the LORD‘s nearness; His presence is all around me. At such times it is no great stretch to reach out and touch the Lord as he passes by. He is here, in the house of God, and for this time, this precise location is his dwelling place.
There are other times in church when it is the spoken word of God that grabs me. I am under arrest. I have been found by God. I could swear the preacher has been reading my heart and he has been following me around all week. He is describing my life – my hidden thought patterns. I have this uncanny sense that this has all been a huge set up. I have been set up by God. He has brought me to this place, backed me in a corner, and now the loving LORD Almighty is pouncing upon me. The Lion of Judah has found his prey. And when it’s all over, I am so glad he has. His holy word has penetrated my heart and I am changed. Into my darkness the Light has come. I walk out of that place with new direction and purpose.
I can only say, “How lovely is your dwelling place, O LORD Almighty!”
Despite these wonderful experiences within church buildings, it is not the buildings themselves that attract me, though unlike some people in our society, I certainly have no aversion to church buildings. In the same vane, as someone trained in design, I believe I can truly appreciate beautiful architecture in churches and other public buildings. Yet again, it is not the architecture that attracts me. It is the presence of God that I seek.
Yes, and despite all this, when I read the phrase, “How lovely is your dwelling place, O LORD Almighty!” my mind instantly flashes to pictures of nature. I see God there, in the dazzling sunset, in the mountain grandeur, in the forest depths, in expansive prairie vistas, in the wind whipped ocean breakers, by the sunlit babbling stream. God is there. This is his dwelling place. It is just as David declared, “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it.” Psalm 24:1 (NIV)
Nature is God’s domain. He formed it, planned it, spoke it into existence. It is his dwelling place. Our attempts to create a dwelling place for him are feeble at best. After overseeing the construction of one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, King Solomon, that master temple builder of the Old Testament declared, “There is not enough room in heaven for you, LORD God. How can you possibly live on earth in this temple I have built?” 1 Kings 8:27 (CEV)
Our God cannot be contained. He is always spilling over the sides, pushing out of our narrow confines, and showing up in unexpected places.
Perhaps this is what the psalmist was referring to here in Psalm 84, when he discovered that nature had invaded the sanctuary of the LORD. Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young – a place near your altar.
The psalmist’s response is very enlightening. He did not see the arrival of these birds in the House of God as something strange or offensive. He did not treat this intrusion of nature as an indignity, ritually prohibited in this, the earthly residence of Deity. His response is in fact, just the opposite. He is delighted by his discovery of nesting birds near the altar of God.
The psalmist views the birds’ presence as an indicative of all of creation’s desire to be close to the creator. The birds are exactly where the psalmist wants to be – permanently in God’s presence – constantly singing their LORD‘s praise. They occupy an envied position. Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you.
And we should note that these birds are not just visiting; they are not passing through. They have made God’s house their home. This is their nesting place. Here they will raise their family.
How about you? Where are you nesting? Are you nesting in God’s presence? Will you raise your family here, near the altar of God?
In my childhood I recall an occasion when at the close of a church service a barn swallow somehow found its way into our country church. I suppose this bird may have come in through an open front door or possibly through the belfry. Children in the congregation were both excited and amused as this swallow careened about the sanctuary in a display of aerial acrobatics. On the other hand, many of the adults were mortified. After all, this bird might soil the carpet. Quite unexpectedly, nature had invaded the sanctuary of the LORD, and the people of God were not entirely pleased.
In retrospect, and in light of Psalm 84, I believe the LORD may have been as delighted as the young children with the arrival of that swallow. All our formal church-style stuffiness suddenly went right out the window. The outside had come in. Why not enjoy it? Why not swoop and sing God’s praises just like that barn swallow? Why not for a moment be as free as a bird?
Oh, and don’t worry about the carpet. Real life is like that. Accidents happen. Humanity isn’t clean. That’s why there’s an altar.
The truly remarkable thing is that the LORD God Almighty chose, and continues to choose, to live with us. He did not confine himself to the heavens. He chose to swoop down from heaven’s heights and nest among us. Sometimes he even shows up in these barns that we call churches. On the day of dedication, without warning, God showed up in Solomon’s temple as the priests were singing the LORD‘s praises.
Suddenly a cloud filled the temple as the priests were leaving the holy place. The LORD‘s glory was in that cloud, and the light from it was so bright that the priests could not stay inside to do their work. 2 Chronicles 5:13-14 (CEV)
Why does God choose to do this? Why does he come to live among us? Doesn’t he know that we will soil his carpet? We will mess things up. Doesn’t he know that the lovely dwelling place of the LORD Almighty will only be lovely until the humans show up? Yet in spite of us, and our nest-fouling ways, God chooses to dwell among us.
We can see this clearly in this psalm. Just as the LORD puts up with the nest building birds and their droppings, so the LORD puts up with us. Actually God goes beyond putting up with us. He welcomes us. Just as the psalmist expresses his delight with the birds, God is delighted that we have come. He is so glad that we have come into his house, his dwelling place. He is not put off or surprised by our mess ups.
What parent throws out their infant on the first occasion when they soil their diapers? Every parent knows that baby messes come with the baby. Changing diapers quickly becomes a part of the family routine. As a father of two infant sons, I had ample opportunity to practise my diaper changing skills. If the need arose at home, most often my wife or I would use a specially designed change table for this job. I would lay the baby on the change table and in a minute or two, everything was fixed up – put to right – on that change table.
Every rightly built house of God has a change table. Most often it’s called an altar. God fixes us up there. That altar can look quite different depending on which church tradition you follow. But the purpose for the altar is always the same. It is the place where we are cleaned up. Sin is washed away.
God is intimate with us there. The outward trappings of righteousness are stripped away. He sees us completely. You see there is no place for human pride at the altar of God. Our heavenly Father LORD gently lays us down and does his work on us. There is nothing we can hide. Why would we want to? Let’s deal with all of it.
Cleanse me should be our only cry.
Have you been altered at the altar? Has God changed you there – really changed you in the hidden places?
But isn’t the altar just for babies? Lord, haven’t I grown and matured since my first trip to your altar? I would like to think so. I’m not tripped up by the same things anymore. Surely, I don’t have to humble myself yet again!
If we have outgrown the altar, then we have outgrown God. And that’s preposterous! The LORD God Almighty has not lost any of his awesome power or majesty, simply because we have grown older and supposedly wiser. We are still in need of his correction, his discipline, his mercy and his love. I still need to get onto God’s change table on a regular basis. Moral perfection keeps eluding me. The smugger I feel about my self-deluding, superior spirituality complex, the more I prove that I need to be altered on the altar.
I hear God whispering, “Lay down. Lay it all down. I want to change you.”
Over the years I have watched far too many Christians outgrow God. They have become mature in their faith, or so they say, and the altar becomes a place for others to go. The reasoning goes something like this, “It’s a fine place for the wayward and the prodigal, but we are beyond that now.”
In my mind I can hear them say, “Since I came to Christ, I have grown in my understanding. I am sure it won’t be long and the LORD God Almighty will be calling upon me for advice.”
Of course no one would dare say that. But the attitude is there. That superior older brother attitude comes to dominate. I know it well because I recognize it in myself.
Soon the house of God loses its appeal. Nature calls. “After all, God is present in nature. I can worship him out by the cottage or down by the lake.”
And of course that’s true. God can, and does meet people in all those locations, and ten thousand places in addition to these. But is there an altar there? Does God’s Word wash over you? Remember that that’s where real change happens.
You see Solomon was right. The great God of the heavens was not content to stay there. The heavens could not contain him. He swooped down from there and decided to live among us, to nest with mankind. But God did not stop there. No, the LORD went far beyond that. Through the sacrifice of his Son, he brought us into his nest – into his family.
Wherever I go, I am in his house now. You see, I belong to him. I’m in the family of God. I am nesting in his presence. And right along with the psalmist I can say, “How lovely is your dwelling place, O LORD Almighty! My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the LORD; my heart and flesh cry out for the living God.”
And if my heart should stray, take me back to your altar, LORD. Cleanse me is my only cry.
Bringing Life to the Psalms
1. The early chapters of 2 Chronicles recount Solomon’s construction and dedication of the temple of the LORD in Jerusalem. The temple of the LORD was the centre or focal point for all the Jewish worshippers of Yahweh. Have you established a focal point for your family’s worship of the LORD? You may wish to read more about this great temple in 2 Chronicles chapters two through seven.
2. Does architecture play a role in worship? Can church architecture enhance or hinder your worship experience?
3. What role does nature play in your relationship with God? Do your experiences of nature and the natural environment distract you from worship, or draw you into worship?
4. As we mature in our faith, how can we avoid developing a superior older brother attitude?
2 Comments »Be Still and Know that I am God
Posted by: David Kitz on Monday, March 2nd, 2009
Psalm 46
(Continued)
Verses 6 -11
Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
He lifts his voice, the earth melts.
The LORD Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress. (Selah)
Come and see the works of the LORD,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
He makes wars to cease to the ends of the earth;
he breaks the bow and shatters the spear,
he burns the shields with fire.
“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. (Selah)
Perhaps no other psalm captures the essence of the cataclysmic as completely as Psalm 46. Here with the psalmist we catch a glimpse of the apocalypse. The world of this psalm is in utter turmoil. It quakes. It writhes. It melts. Through a poetic eye we are viewing the death throes of a planet.
I spent New Years Day, 1985 in Hiroshima, Japan – a city well acquainted with cataclysm. Today, Hiroshima is a beautiful city. It is a seaside city, built on a flat river delta surrounded by mountains. Seven river channels cut across the city’s fertile flood plain on their way to the blue waters of Hiroshima Bay. In many respects Hiroshima resembles a more compact, oriental version of Vancouver.
But on August 6th, 1945 this beautiful city became a terrestrial picture of hell. The horrors inflicted on Hiroshima are without parallel in human history. In an atomic flash, 66,000 residents were instantly killed. They were the fortunate. Another 60,000 died later of their injuries, or from the effects of radiation sickness. The accounts of their suffering are among the most heart wrenching literature, I have ever read.
I was not in Hiroshima alone; my wife and my two and a half year old son were with me. Together, on a cool but sunny New Years Day, we strolled through the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park. We slowly walked around the building known as the A-Bomb Dome. This devastated stone structure was the only building left standing after the atomic blast. Its skeletal structure is a visible reminder of that grim day in 1945. But is this stark ruin also a portent of our future, and the future of our planet?
Across the ages the psalmist speaks, “Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall; He lifts his voice, the earth melts.”
In 1945 the nations of the world were in uproar, and kingdoms were falling. In Europe the vaunted thousand-year rule of the Third Reich came to a brutal end. Great cities lay in ruins. Millions were exterminated; millions more were displaced and starving. A demon in human flesh had put the whole apparatus of the modern state to work in eradicating God’s people. The last victim of every murderous demon is its human host, so staying true to Satanic form, in the final days of war Hitler and his leading Nazi henchmen pulled the trigger on their own demise.
Across the Pacific, expansionist, Imperial Japan was on the verge of collapse. The emperor, whose subjects worshipped him as god, was about to call an end to a war that was cannibalizing his own people. Emperor Hirohito was revered as a descendant of the sun god, and through brutal military conquest the land of the Rising Sun had spread its rays across much of Asia. But before the emperor could call a halt to the war, a different kind of sun would ignite a blazing inferno in the heart of the nation.
Nuclear physicists will tell you that in its simplest form an atomic bomb is the power of the sun released upon the earth. The heat and radiation are of the same magnitude. A miniature sun flashed 100 million volts of raw energy over Hiroshima at 8:15 a.m. on August 6th, 1945.
People beneath the epicentre of the blast were simply vaporised. In the Atomic Bomb Museum, later that day my eyes bore witness to this phenomenon. Dark shadows were all that remained of men who were sitting on the stone steps of a bank building. Their bodies left something resembling a photographic imprint on the stone. In an instant – in a flash – they were gone.
Miles from the epicentre, brass globes drooped and melted on the side that was facing this new sun that had come to the earth. The effects upon human flesh of the intense heat of this nuclear flash can only be imagined. On many survivors, clothing and skin exposed just for an instant, simply melted away.
Again across the ages the psalmist speaks, “Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall; He lifts his voice, the earth melts.”
You view all these things in a different light, when you are with your family. My wife was walking beside me on this tour. She was into her third month of pregnancy. I was either carrying my two-year-old son in my arms, holding his little hand or pushing him in a stroller. I kept asking myself, “What kind of world am I bringing my children into? Will they experience these things – this hell – in their lifetime?”
Today’s newspaper headlines are not reassuring. More than twenty years have passed since my visit to Hiroshima, and thus far the world has avoided nuclear holocaust. But once again we appear to be creeping closer to the brink of annihilation. I began writing this chapter two days ago, but in one of those odd cases of divine coincidence, today when I retrieved my morning newspaper from its slot in the screen door, the headline read, “North Korea Conducts Nuclear Test.”
And if a rogue state like North Korea does not raise the level of our concern, we can always look to Iran and its nuclear ambitions. Meanwhile Russia is edging ever closer toward a return to dictatorship. Then there is China, which is growing more powerful and restive as its economic might increases. In short, we live in a very dangerous and unpredictable world.
If newspaper headlines are not reassuring, Bible prophecies are even less so. The apostle Peter, speaking nearly a thousand years after Psalm Forty-six was penned, states, “. . . the present heavens and earth are reserved for fire, being kept for the day of judgement and destruction of ungodly men.” 2 Peter 3:7
Peter goes on to evoke the very images of Psalm 46. “The day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything in it will be laid bare. 2 Peter 3:10
But over this inferno – this world afire – the psalmist speaks, “The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.”
We will not face this worldwide conflagration alone. We are not abandoned. The LORD has not left our side. We are not to yield to fear and worry. Though the ungodly perish, we have these words of assurance. The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.
If we must face dark days, we will not face them alone. We will face them with the LORD Almighty. There are many names for God, and good poetry is all about the choice of words. It is then significant to note that the psalmist chose this particular name combination, the LORD Almighty, at this juncture in this psalm. The LORD, which is the Hebrew translation of Yahweh or Jehovah, means I AM. The great I AM is with us. The God of the burning bush has come to be with us. It is this God, who in Exodus 3:14 told Moses, “I AM who I AM.” He will carry us through this time of apocalyptic turmoil. And not only is I AM, the self-existent-one with us, the psalmist also asserts that this great I AM is none other than the Almighty. In cataclysm we will see the power of the Almighty. He not only holds the power to melt the world and its elements with a fervent heat, he also has the power to save and deliver his own from that cataclysmic destruction, if he so chooses.
Shadrach, Meshach and Abedinigo walked out of the blazing furnace unscathed, because the Almighty was with them. In Psalm 46 we are assured that this same God, the LORD Almighty, will be with us. He will be with us, when the end-times, world-consuming conflagration hits. The Almighty will be standing there in the furnace with us. His invisible mantle of protection will be extended over us, because the God of Jacob is our fortress.
By invoking the name of the God of Jacob, the psalmist links us to the great redemptive history of God’s people. This is the God who saves, who intervenes into the affairs of men. He is the God who brought Jacob back safely to the land of promise, after years of foreign sojourn. He is the God, who visited Egypt with the ten plagues, but by the blood of a lamb, he set apart his own people and so saved them from the Angel of Death. It was the God of Jacob, who parted the Red Sea for his people, but destroyed the pursuing army. He is the God who destroyed the world in the great flood, but he floated his eight person restoration mission over the top of the billowing torrent. In these and a thousand other biblical stories, he is a God who saves. He is a fortress round about those who call on his name. In the fortress we rest secure, no matter what fiery maelstrom should assault.
Throughout history God’s people have found safety and refuge in the fortress. Martin Luther knew all too well the assaults of hell. It was from within the fortress that he took his stand against the legions of hell. On the threat of death he would not bow to error. He stood upon the unchanging inerrant word of God. When he left the Diet of Worms, he was a marked man – marked for execution. But even then, he was safe. He was safe, because a fortress surrounded him and protected him wherever he travelled. You see Luther’s fortress was the God of Jacob. How fitting then that in addition to translating the whole Bible, he should pen the words to that great hymn, “A Mighty Fortress is our God.”
Now the psalmist beckons us closer.
Come and see the works of the LORD, the desolations he has brought on the earth. He makes wars to cease to the ends of the earth. He breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire.
We live in a world that denies the existence of God, or at best it sees God as aloof and distant from the historical events that shape societies and the course of nations. But is this an accurate world view? The Old Testament writer’s had a completely different perspective. They saw God as active in the affairs of men. He does not stand aloof from his creation, but rather he is the great Conductor of History. Nations move at his impulse. He raises up one kingdom and sets down another. At his discretion, he exalts one leader and humiliates another.
Reading the above passage from the Psalms can be quite disturbing to some of us. It disturbs me. Does God really bring desolation on the earth? Does he take sides in war? We may prefer our God to be more passive and distant. Perhaps God is a pacifist? He certainly loves peace. Yet in the Bible, God actively intervened in great battles and wars. And sometimes, to the consternation of God’s people, he was helping the other side. The LORD used heathen Babylon to bring divine judgement down upon Judah.
Has God changed? Perhaps he has reformed in his old age? What would a twentieth century history text look like if it was written by Nehemiah, Isaiah, or Jeremiah? Would Isaiah see God’s hand of judgement being unleashed on Nazi Germany? Was God actively working against this murderer of millions, with his hell hatched theory of racial supremacy? Was the God of the heavens ready to share his glory with the earthbound emperor of Japan? Did the LORD sanction the Sun god’s conquest of Asia? Or did the creator of the universe have the final say on the matter? Were the master theorists behind atheistic communism correct? Or did the LORD laugh at them in derision? Did the Soviet empire collapse under its own weight, or was the LORD helping a few Polish believers as they pulled the last few bricks out of the crumbling foundation?
But no nation can gloat in a state of moral superiority. The stench of sin hovers over the whole globe. Is this world ripe for God’s judgement? Are we facing apocalypse over the next horizon?
Into this global chaos the LORD speaks, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”
This psalm from start to finish evokes a thousand images of catastrophe, but it is the last picture that should lodge most deeply in our hearts. It is the picture of a hurt young child rushing home into the arms of a loving parent. The world has hurt us. But in these arms we will find love, healing and courage to face the world, to face a new day. At the core, where it counts most, we are loved by our Father. Over that frightened, wounded child our Father speaks these words, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”
I need to hear those words spoken to me. In the rush of life I need to pause. I need to stop and hear God as I’m curled up in his arms. When pain and fear and worry come, he says, “Be still.”
Quiet your heart in God. He is bigger than your problems – bigger than the whole cruel world out there. He is in control of world events. Yield to his control in your own life. He holds the future – your future is in his hands – and these are loving hands. Though nations are in uproar and kingdoms fall, his Kingdom stands secure and eternal. When you are still – still and at rest in his Kingdom – you know the truth of these words. The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Bringing Life to the Psalms
1. Read the account of Shadrach, Meshach and Abedinigo in the fiery furnace, as found in Daniel chapter three. Consider what this story says to you about facing persecution and calamity with courage.
2. Do you have a hymnal handy? Why not read or sing, “A Mighty Fortress is our God?” The lyrics are a powerful declaration of the supremacy of God in a world gone mad. You may also wish to view the movie, Luther. It is an accurate portrayal of the faith and struggles of this courageous reformer.
3. End-times theology, or eschatology, frequently is a source of fear rather than comfort. Psalm 46 can act as a counterweight to many of the rather frightening passages found in the Book of Revelation. How can this psalm help you view the end-times in a more positive light?
4. As we conclude this look at Psalm 46 take a moment to reread this apocalyptic psalm. What is God saying to you by His Spirit?
An Ever-Present Help
Posted by: David Kitz on Tuesday, February 17th, 2009
Psalm 46
Verses 1-5
Of the Sons of Korah
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. (Selah)
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.
Where were you on September 11th, 2001? What were you doing when you heard the news of the horrific attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon? I was at school at the time, but I was on a break between classes. The equipment repairman had just arrived to fix some of the power tools in the woodworking shop. He seemed rather agitated as he reported, “A plane has hit the World Trade Center in New York.”
I was unfazed by this news and I responded, “It’s probably just a small two passenger plane. What’s the big deal?”
“No. It was a big passenger jet,” the repairman said with a shake of his head. This made no sense to me, and with that said, the repairman returned to his truck, where he sat for a minute or two listening to the vehicle’s radio.
He returned in an even more animated state to report, “A second plane has crashed into the other tower.”
At this point I turned on the classroom radio and began listening to the reports myself. The true emotional impact of these events did not hit me however, until about an hour later. On a classroom television that was hastily moved into the school custodian’s office, I watched the towers come crashing to the ground. My whole body was left shaking.
Now years later, the whole earth is still reverberating from the impact of those events.
At church gatherings I do live spoken-word dramatizations of the fourteen psalms that form the basis for this book. But I cannot perform Psalm Forty-six without evoking memories of the day we call nine-eleven. Instantly, the pictures of the planes hitting the towers flash into my mind. Once again the towers disintegrate and come crashing down onto the streets – down onto the people and rescue workers below.
But Psalm Forty-six begins with these words. God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way . . .
The earth gave way on September 11th, 2001. If the earth falls out from under you – if everything you have known to be secure suddenly disintegrates – how can you not succumb to fear? Fear is a person’s natural response to such events. If the earth gives way beneath us, then the only one we have to hold onto is God. If all earthly securities disintegrate, the only remaining refuge is our heavenly Father.
I dare say that too many North American Christians know God only, as a God of sunny days, full bellies and prosperity. I would place myself in that category. For us personally, the earth has not fallen away from beneath us. What will become of us when it does? Are we even remotely prepared for such events? Can we ever be fully prepared? Are you ready for the hundred story plunge to the street below?
Against this backdrop, for all to hear the psalmist declares, “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.”
On December 26th, 2004 at 7:58:53 a.m. local time, the mountains beneath the sea off the coast of Indonesian island of Sumatra, began to quake. That quake registered 9.2 magnitude on the Richter scale, making it the second most powerful quake ever recorded. It also was the longest earthquake in duration. This devastating temblor unleashed a tsunami that claimed the lives of an estimated 229,866 people. The ocean surge reached a height of thirty metres in places, and it killed people as distant as 8,000 km from the epicentre.
Since that date, I cannot perform Psalm Forty-six without evoking memories of the Boxing Day Tsunami. Instantly the pictures of walls of water come flooding into my mind. Once again whole villages are scoured off the coast like so much worthless refuse that is swept out to sea. Men, women and children disappear in a muddy seething swill of saltwater debris.
But despite all this – in the midst of all this – as though he had been granted a preview of this very event, the psalmist speaks up, “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.”
From this scene of utter devastation, the psalmist transitions to the polar opposite. He brings us to the Gates of Splendour, and within those gates we find . . . 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.
What a contrast! Here is our place of refuge. Here in that holy place, we are face to face with God, the God who is our strength. We are at the source point of gladness. There is an endless supply of the water of life within this sacred city. The Master calls, “Come and drink.”
Are you drinking even now?
How can we face an uncertain future without fear, when the world around us is being torn apart? That question is really the primary focus of this psalm. Here beside the river of God we can find the answer.
Lloyd Ogilvie in his book, Facing the Future without Fear, points out that God’s most frequently repeated command in the scriptures is, “Fear not.”
We are not to fear men, or circumstances or the demons of hell. We are not to fret or worry. After all, worry is simply a case of borrowing fear from the Bank of Insecurity in order to make a down payment on a future event, which despite our worries is unlikely to occur. Now, that truly is an unwise investment. Ogilvie points out that in the Bible, there are 366 commands for us not to fear, one for every day of the year, including one for leap-year. In short, God’s word for us daily is, “Fear not!”
Why is our ability to overcome fear so important to God? Could it be that God sees that fear imprisons us? It prevents us from doing God’s will for our lives. Fear locks us into patterns of behaviour that keep us from growing and maturing in our faith. If we are afraid of what others think, we will never share our faith. If we are afraid to risk going without, we will never know the full joy of true giving. If we fear rejection, we will never risk opening our hearts to love. If we play it safe, and like a turtle keep our head in our shell, we will never truly experience life – life to the full.
On a stormy night, Peter stepped out of a boat in the middle of a lake and walked on the water. Think of it. What a perfectly insane thing to do! He rejected fear and chose Jesus. Jesus called him out of that boat. He said, “Come.” Matthew 14:29
You can only do what Peter did, if you know the one who is calling you. Peter knew Jesus. He recognized his call, and he stepped out of natural security (the boat) onto supernatural security of Christ’s call. He walked by faith, a faith that transcends what is seen and reaches into the heavenly realm . . . the holy place where the Most High dwells.
Psalm Forty-six calls us to life on that higher plain. We can overcome fear, if we have tasted the waters of those streams that make glad the city of God. This is the same living water that Jesus offered to the woman at the well. In the midst of the storms of life, the psalmist invites us to come to that higher plain. He calls us aside. In times of trouble he invites us to embrace our citizenship in the city of God.
How can we face an uncertain future without fear? If you have died to the elemental passions of this world, you can live your life beyond fear and worry. Dead men do not panic. The apostle Paul urged the Colossian believers to acknowledge their death to this world, and embrace their new life in Christ . . . Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. Colossians 3:2-3 (NIV)
Repeatedly in his epistles, Paul likens baptism to death, burial and resurrection. This is our point of identification with Christ as we begin a new life of faith in him. And a life of faith is precisely what we are called to as believers in our resurrected Lord, who has ascended to the heavenly Jerusalem before us. That life of faith triumphs over fear. It turns defeat into conquest, doubt into certainty, death into the ultimate victory.
My own hunger for a deeper knowledge of the psalms was sparked by a middle-aged couple, John and Clare Tremblay. The Tremblays had attended our church for a few years, but then they moved to another part of the city and we lost touch. Upon their return to our neighbourhood, we discovered that Clare had developed diabetes and gone blind. I began to make regular pastoral visits to their home. On these visits it became my habit to read a psalm to Clare, while John stood near by. She drew such strength and comfort from these psalms; you could see her face light up every time a psalm was read. Unfortunately her condition declined rapidly. After a number of falls, it became clear that she was unable to walk. Soon she was confined to a long term care facility. Even there she found her refuge in the psalms. It seemed to be the only thing that could put a smile on her face.
You see for that moment Clare was no longer blind, but rather she could see, and she was sitting by the . . . river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. While she listened to the psalms, her mind was set on things above where her life was hidden with Christ in God. Within those psalms she found God – the God who is an ever-present help in time of trouble.
As time went by I could see in Clare the truth of these words. God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day.
One morning Clare found herself there, in the very presence of the LORD. This psalm had become her reality. Her funeral became a celebration of the psalms she loved, and the God of refuge that she found within those psalms.
After Clare’s passing I paid a number of visits to John to offer some comfort and support to him as he mourned the loss of his wife. “Pastor, could you read me a psalm?” John asked.
Of course I brought my Bible along to do just that. He sat in rapt attention as I read. He got that wistful, far off look in his eyes, and I knew where he was. He was crouched by one of those streams that make glad the city of God. He was having a good thirst-quenching drink.
On one of those visits John complained of a backache, and I suggested he have a doctor check it out. A few weeks later John’s daughter-in-law called. John was in the hospital. The backache was spinal cancer, and the doctors said that John had only a month to live. In fact, he lasted only three weeks. John was on a three week, hundred story plunge to death – a plunge he faced without a hint of fear.
I recall those hospital visits. They were tinged with bittersweet warmth. John had watched his bride of forty years face death with faith and courage. Now he did the same. Through a fog of pain John would smile up at me, and in a hoarse whisper he would say, “Pastor, could you read me a psalm?”
On my last visit with John, I read Psalm Forty-six. I cleared my throat and began, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way . . . “
John smiled his biggest smile. He knew the truth of those words even as the earth beneath him was giving way.
John and Clare were both in their early sixties. They died within six months of each other. In me they sparked an ongoing love for the Book of Psalms. It’s a love that I trust will carry me into eternity, even as it carried them, because I know . . . there is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells.
Bringing Life to the Psalms
1. Read the account of Peter and Jesus walking on the water as found in Matthew 14:22-36. Consider what this story says to you about walking with Jesus. What does it say to you about faith and fear? Is Jesus calling you to a walk of faith? Is he calling you out of your comfort zone?
2. What do you think Paul means when he says, “Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.” Colossians 3:2-3 (NIV) How can you live your life here on earth and simultaneously in heaven with Christ? Setting your mind takes personal discipline. It involves purposeful thought. What godly disciplines help you set your mind on things above?
3. Has God been a God of sunny days, and prosperity for you? Praise God for all the good times. Have you also faced adversity and trouble as you walked with the Lord? How did your faith help you overcome?
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