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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) 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) 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. (Selah) (Psalm 46 NRSV)
Happy Thursday, dear Friend. As we pray today, please add this to your prayer list, from First Methodist Gonzales" "Friends please urgently pray for Pastor Clyde and Olivia Bostick (Clyde is pastor at Belmont and Monthalia). Olivia had surgery yesterday and is having complications."
In my life my parents were both places of refuge and strength. When major crises presented themselves I could find in them the solution, the hiding place, or the words needed to confront the challenge. As I've shared before, in fifth grade my teacher accused me of stealing a pen and pencil set. Dad went and fought the battle. In our move to Houston a kid called me a racist slur, which I had never heard before and found in my Mom the hiding place and counters I could use should I want. When a junior high teacher ignored my request for help, my Mom went and in the hallway outside that classroom fought the battle which helped me learn and pass that class. Both parents provided for me a model of Christian tolerance and responses.
This coming Sunday invites us to celebrate Jesus' sovereignty over all creation, and Psalm 46 presents the character of our King—not a distant ruler unconcerned with His subjects' struggles, but a refuge, a fortress, a very present help when everything falls apart. The psalmist begins with radical confidence: "God is our refuge and strength." Other kings build fortresses to protect themselves; our King is Himself the fortress that protects us. Other rulers demonstrate strength by conquering enemies; our King demonstrates strength by being our shelter in the storm. The phrase "very present help" is crucial—this isn't a God who helps from afar or intervenes occasionally when convenient. Our King is present, close, immediately available in the moment of trouble. On Christ the King Sunday, we celebrate not just that Jesus reigns, but that His reign is characterized by intimate availability to His people.
The psalm imagines the worst possible scenarios: "Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult." Mountains falling into the sea, foundations shaking, chaos replacing order—these images represent total cosmic upheaval. Yet the response is stunning: "we will not fear." Not because chaos won't come or because we're naively optimistic, but because our King is our refuge even when everything else collapses. Then the psalmist shifts to a beautiful contrast: "There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved; God will help it when the morning dawns." While the chaotic waters outside threaten destruction, inside the King's city flows a peaceful river that brings gladness. This isn't just geography—it's theology. Where the King dwells, there is peace, stability, gladness even in the midst of surrounding chaos. Our King creates an oasis of joy and security within His presence, a place that "shall not be moved" even when everything around it shakes.
The psalm then describes the King's power over the nations: "The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge." Human kingdoms rise and fall, nations rage and collapse, earthly powers scheme and crumble. But our King speaks, and the earth melts. His word carries absolute authority over all human power structures, all political upheaval, all military might. The refrain emphasizes both His transcendent power ("the Lord of hosts"—commander of heaven's armies) and His intimate presence ("is with us"). This is the paradox of Christ the King—the sovereign ruler of the universe who chooses to be with His people, the commander of heavenly hosts who makes Himself our refuge. Then comes the invitation: "Come, behold the works of the Lord; see what desolations he has brought on the earth. He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire." Our King's ultimate work isn't destruction but peace-making. He doesn't perpetuate violence—He ends it. He doesn't multiply weapons—He destroys them. The vision is of a King who establishes His reign by eliminating warfare itself, bringing peace to earth's farthest corners.
The psalm culminates with the King's own voice: "Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth." In Hebrew, "be still" can mean "stop striving, cease your frantic activity, let go, surrender." It's a command from the King to His anxious subjects: stop trying to control everything, stop fighting battles in your own strength, stop the exhausting effort to secure yourself through your own power. Instead, know—deeply, experientially know—that He is God. He is exalted among the nations whether they acknowledge it or not. He is exalted in the earth whether circumstances suggest it or not. Our King's sovereignty doesn't depend on our efforts to establish it or defend it. On Christ the King Sunday, we celebrate a King who doesn't need us to protect His throne but invites us to rest in the security of His unshakeable reign. The psalm ends with the refrain: "The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge." This is the comfort and challenge of Christ the King—almighty power wedded to intimate presence, cosmic authority combined with personal refuge. We bow before a King who is both transcendent enough to command nations and immanent enough to be our fortress in trouble, both powerful enough to still chaos and gentle enough to invite us to be still and know Him.
PRAYER: Lord of hosts, our King and our refuge, help us cease our striving and rest in Your sovereignty, knowing that You are exalted among the nations and that Your kingdom is our unshakeable fortress even when everything around us trembles—in Jesus' strong name, amen.
Have a great and blessed day in the Lord! OUR CALL TO ACTION: Identify one area where you've been frantically striving to control outcomes or protect yourself, and practice the King's command to "be still"—surrendering that area to His sovereign care and resting in His presence as your refuge.
I love you and I thank God for you! You matter to God and you matter to me. Make other see that you have found in God the perfect hiding place and strength.
Pastor Eradio Valverde, Jr.
