One of the most popular verses in the Bible—and perhaps the most popular verse in the book of Psalms—is “Be still, and know that I am God” found in Psalm 46.
We often associate that verse with gentle, still moments… having ‘coffee and Jesus’ time, where a warm candle flickers harmoniously to the tune of soft, melodious worship music playing in the background.
We often see that verse artfully penned in the most elegant and pleasant fonts upon the most resplendent, quaint backdrops—scripted serifs upon rolling hills and soothing sunsets. In fact, you can visit Etsy or Amazon right now, and see for yourself.
Except, this ‘cozy’ sentiment is not exactly the message of this verse nor the context of this passage… at all. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.
Psalm 46 reads the following: (I’ve added bold to help illuminate the context).
God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,
though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,
3 though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble at its swelling. 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 her; she shall not be moved;
God will help her when morning dawns.
6 The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;
he utters his voice, the earth melts.
7 The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah
8 Come, behold the works of the Lord,
how he has brought desolations 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 chariots with fire.
10 “Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!”
11 The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Cultural Christianity might paint this verse in a warm, cozy environment with easy-going stillness; but the Bible does not. In fact, circumstantial warmth and coziness might be the last thing the passage communicates contextually.
It paints much darker, harsher backdrop instead—one of trial and tragedy—whereby the psalmist reflects upon God and his life not with lighthearted comfort and ease, but rather, with heavyhearted trust and ever-persevering praise.
The chapter opens with an alarming ‘Code Red’—signaling the onset of dire, threatening circumstances:
“…though the earth gives way…”
“…though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea”
“…though its waters roar and foam…”
“…though the mountains tremble at its swelling…”
And further in the passage:
“…the nations rage…”
“…the kingdoms totter…”
In other words, the setting at hand is anything but ‘peace and quiet;’ instead, it’s one of chaos and loss—where the sturdiest and most stable things in life have now become threatened, jeopardized, and even ripped right out from under what was once considered ‘normal.’
Bleakness cuts through the passage, dashing one’s hope in their circumstances: “Though the earth gives way under your feet, though your mountains are cast into the sea, though your foundations swell (referring to volcanic explosion), and though you are surrounded by enemies on every side…” This is the context this passage tragically portrays. Loss. Tragedy. Fatigue. Anxiety.
I think of Isaiah 36-37 where the Israelites are shut up in Jerusalem, with the largest army in the world knocking on their door to wipe them out completely.
Their world was falling apart.
Their earth had given way.
Their mountains had been tossed into the sea.
Their enemies raged, pressing in upon them on all sides.
In other words, the sturdiest areas of security that previously seemed immovable (!) in their lives had suddenly been ripped out from under them.
All looked bleak. All looked dim. All looked hopeless. Have you found yourself there as well? But here’s where the passage sparks with a flicker of hope:
But God…
… He makes wars cease (v. 9)
… He breaks the bow (v. 9)
… He shatters the spear (v. 9)
… He burns the chariots with fire (v. 9)
And the text transitions powerfully into our famous verse, v. 10:
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
In other words, your call in the midst of chaos is…
Don’t fight back at your circumstances.
Don’t try to control your circumstances.
Don’t be paralyzed by your circumstances.
And don’t fear them, either.
Simply, be still… and know that he is God.
Truly, this verse is not for warm, still moments of peace and quiet, but for the very middle of warfare, uncertainty, and tragedy where everything seems to be crumbling apart beneath you and crashing down upon you.
This verse is seeking to equip us for the war of faith when tragedy comes. It beckons us to shift our vision from what we can see into the high gear of trusting God with all that we cannot see, affirming to our most inward parts that He reigns above every trial with all power, love, and wisdom.
Knowing who God is to you, therefore, is your surest foundation when your stability has sunken through; your surest confidence when your security has crumbled apart; and your surest hope when the future seems dark. Indeed, “even the darkness is not dark to You; the night is bright as day, for darkness is as light with You” (Ps. 139:12).
When you’re going through your own threats, your own battles, your own tragedies and trials—where is your confidence and deliverance found? It’s not found in a new set of circumstances. It’s found in a God who reigns above them all, and who loves you dearly through it.
He can be your confidence and fortress, because on the cross he took your greatest battle, greatest threat, and greatest foe—and won. So, if he gave himself to you in grace when you were his enemy, surely he will fight your smaller battles now that you are his beloved child.
Stillness before God might just be the greatest declaration of trust in Him. Why? Because a stillness before God is a humility that surrenders to God’s power, love, and wisdom in your life, affirming that His far surpasses your own power, love, and wisdom. And likewise, a stillness before God is, functionally, a pride laid down of the impulsive need to control, worry, gossip, or fret.
A still trust in God in the midst of chaos suggests a view of God big enough to handle it without your feverish intervention.
So, in the eye of the storm, the call to be still and know that He is God is a exhortation to stop looking ‘in’ or ‘around’ for peace; but instead, to start looking ‘up’—and trusting your faithful Creator while doing good (1 Pe. 4:19).
