Faith, Fear, and Psalm 46
Originally written for a Lenten devotional email series for St. Paul's United Methodist Church.
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| "Strangers to the Universal Panic." Illustration by Georges Rochegrosse.¹ |
It might seem like I’m a negative person. Like I only see the bad. People have seemed to question my faith, saying, “But we have hope.” “But if we have faith…” “How long are you going to live in fear?”
I feel mischaracterized! I’m not (usually) afraid! Indeed, I have hope and faith. But I also have seen very real sorrow, death, and loss. I’ve heard the news of vanishing species, habitat loss, floods, and drought. I vividly remember the cracking tree trunks during the 2020 derecho, and holding my son in the basement, hovering around lit candles while we waited for the storm to pass, and emerging to a shocking scene–everything green torn to shreds, jagged limbs, awareness of the decades of growth lost in less than an hour. I’ve witnessed the pain of my friends who have been harmed by the church because the church won’t accept their whole, beautiful selves because of their gender identity or sexual orientation. I cannot close my eyes to the world. I have seen how things are bad, mostly for other people or in other places, and I can’t live like I don’t know.
1 God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change,
though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;
3 though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble with its tumult. Selah
I find that a faithful response to the difficulties of our time is a truthful acknowledgement of them, not to deny or downplay them. This doesn’t mean we give up, either. We can make things better, change our ways and mitigate the damage, but we can’t start the work if we avoid the problems. I have come to a state of acceptance about the destruction of our environment as we know it. And, I may believe the crumbling of the UMC is on course (sorry). But I also find that I can bear it solely because my hope and faith are what they are. With faith and acceptance, I can better prepare for what’s to come. These disasters may be foregone but that doesn’t mean that we are forsaken.
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 the city; it shall not be moved;
God will help it when the morning dawns.
6 The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter;
he utters his voice, the earth melts.
7 The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah
The Lord of hosts is with us. Don’t we believe that God is big enough for the size of our very real, enormous disasters? These verses in Psalm 46 don’t say, “God is our refuge, therefore, the disasters are not happening. The earth is not changing, the sea is not trembling, and the nations are not in uproar.” The text acknowledges both that things are truly awful and God is with us. So, sure, I do have my fears and doubts (we’re complex, we’re never just one thing). Over and along and mixed up in all those thoughts and feelings, I also have an element of peace about it. Of stillness. Because at the same time the world is on fire, the Lord of hosts is with us.
8 Come, behold the works of the Lord;
see what desolations he has brought 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 shields with fire.
10 “Be still, and know that I am God!
I am exalted among the nations,
I am exalted in the earth.”
11 The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah²
¹Omega: the Last Days of the World, by Camille Flammarion, published 1894. (Source: Public Domain Review)
²New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
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