Wild parrots play in front of the trees at Steve and Elba’s house in Belém while I am having quiet time, and soaking in the goodness of the thick, tropical, morning air.
Savouring
The mangoes are falling again.
I’m back in Marabá, eating my old favourites: black beans, barbecued meat, and açaí. Huge iguanas wander through the yard. My favourite peregrine falcon sits in front of the house, watching me in the early morning. I feel God’s presence and abundance in this place.
And I’m carrying a question a friend asked me recently:
“If God knew there would be so much suffering, wasn’t it cruel for Him to create the world like this?”
I’ve been savouring the question for days.
Breakfast with Steve. Steve and Elba are church-planting in our state capital city of Belém, and their church is poised for explosive growth.
My Life Got Bigger
I remember the downward spiral of trying to make life work in my own strength. The harder I tried, the more helpless I felt. That was me in the Yukon, in Destruction Bay and Carmacks.
When I gave my life to the Lord, I thought the little bit of joy I had would be gone too. But at least I would have eternal life.
To my surprise, my life started getting better.
And better.
My boundaries started expanding. I got to go to Bible school in Texas for a couple of years. I had quit high school, left home early, and read a lot of western novels. It never crossed my mind that I might get to live in Texas for two years! Then I spent a month in Jamaica on a mission outreach, where the churches treated us like family. Even food definitely started tasting better. Everything got better as I got unstuck from the mud at the bottom of the well.
Now I travel through Brazil, Canada, the United States, and Europe, and I keep meeting people doing amazing work. So much good is going on in the world.
Paul and Barnabas noticed this too. Speaking to a crowd in Lystra, they said God “did not leave Himself without witness, in that He did good and gave you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons, satisfying your hearts with food and gladness” (Acts 14:17).
Food and gladness. I know a little about that.
But the Waters Still Roar
From the very first page of the Bible, creation has a problem.
Darkness. Deep waters. Dangerous waters, roaring and foaming.
Then come the wars of the Old Testament. Imagine living in those days and planting a garden, not knowing whether an enemy would come and take you out, you and your family.
The psalmists knew that world. And they found refuge in God.
When we were in Europe, I tagged along with some of our team who wanted to visit Breendonk, a fort in Belgium the Nazis used as a prison camp. It’s incredible how cruel people can be to each other.
The cells were heavy places. We spoke to each other in whispers. The detention cells were worse. Prisoners scratched words into some of the detention cell walls. One of them reads:
“Dieu seul peut te sauver de cet enfer. Prie Dieu et il t’en sortira.”
“God alone can save you from this hell. Pray to God, and He will bring you out of it.”
I’ve seen God meet people behind bars too. In jail ministry I met happy people who had reconnected with their spiritual roots. And I’ve met deeply unhappy people in other settings, surrounded by luxury.
Psalm 46 doesn’t pretend trouble isn’t real. It calls God “a very ready help in trouble.”
Help only matters where there is trouble.
“Ode to the Resistance” at Fort Breendonk, Belgium.
Listen to Psalm 46
Read the psalm slowly first, then press play. Think of this two-minute video as a bucket of water to prime the pump of your own imagination.
God is our refuge and strength, A very ready help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth shakes And the mountains slip into the heart of the sea; Though its waters roar and foam, Though the mountains quake at its swelling pride. Selah
There is a river whose streams make the city of God happy, The holy dwelling places of the Most High. God is in the midst of her, she will not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns. The nations made an uproar, the kingdoms tottered; He raised His voice, the earth quaked. The LORD of armies is with us; The God of Jacob is our stronghold. Selah
Come, behold the works of the LORD, Who has inflicted horrific events on the earth. He makes wars to cease to the end of the earth; He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two; He burns the chariots with fire. “Stop striving and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted on the earth.” The LORD of armies is with us; The God of Jacob is our stronghold. Selah
If you do the hard work of embedding this Psalm into your brain so it informs your imagination, you will find freedom to take risks of faith with God. Big risks of faith.
From Storm to River
The first stanza names our biggest fears: roaring waters, and mountains slipping into the sea.
In Genesis 1, God gathered the waters and let dry land appear, so people would have a place to live. If the mountains slide back into the sea, where will we live? This is creation coming undone.
“Therefore we will not fear.”
Then the scene shifts: “There is a river whose streams make the city of God happy.”
Jesus picked up this picture: “From his innermost being will flow rivers of living water.” John tells us He meant the Spirit (John 7:38–39).
And Paul writes, “Do you not know that you are a temple of God and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16). That “you” is plural. Together, we are God’s dwelling place. When we gather, we become a city. And God delights in it.
The nations still make an uproar. I see it everywhere I travel. But when God raises His voice, the very ground under them quakes.
Then the chorus: “The God of Jacob is our stronghold.”
Why Jacob?
Why not Abraham? Moses? David? Daniel?
“I don’t like Jacob.” One of my daughters told me this years ago, and I have thought about it ever since. I didn’t know it was an option to dislike a patriarch until she said it. But the more I think about it, the more I see Jacob as the biggest shyster of them all.
Jacob’s brother comes home starving. Surely they played together as kids. But Jacob won’t do his brother a favour in his hour of need without getting the advantage. Then Jacob schemes with his mom to deceive his blind father.
Then he marries the wrong girl. When we studied this as a group, one of the girls from our Brazilian neighbourhood asked an important question: “Was drinking involved?” We don’t know. We do know his uncle Laban tricked him the way he had tricked his father.
Then Jacob marries his wife’s sister Rachel, the right girl. Marrying sisters? A recipe for disaster. God’s law would later forbid it (Leviticus 18:18). When Rachel can’t get pregnant, she gives Jacob her maid, and the maid has his children. His grandfather Abraham had taken the same shortcut with Hagar, and it brought heartache. It brought rivalry into Jacob’s house too.
The story keeps spiralling.
But one thing Jacob keeps doing.
He keeps clinging to God.
One night beside the Jabbok River, Jacob wrestles with God until dawn. Hurt and limping, he still won’t let go: “I will not let you go unless you bless me” (Genesis 32:26).
That’s the God of Jacob. No matter how bad we are, if we keep clinging to God, He will be our stronghold.
Our part is to cling to Him, no matter what.
Stop Striving
In the last stanza, God Himself steps in and speaks:
“Stop striving and know that I am God.”
The Hebrew means something like “let go” or “drop your hands.” God has just broken the bow and burned the chariots. The first ones told to put their hands down are the nations at war.
And what a missionary verse! “I will be exalted among the nations.”
We strive to figure out how to raise support, how to get places, how to make disciples. Often it feels like we want this more than God does.
That’s just not true. He wants it more than we ever will. When that sinks in, His burden becomes light.
That doesn’t mean backing off. It’s not a passive rest. It’s an active resting: walking with Him, letting ourselves be overwhelmed by His goodness, and taking the next step in obedience.
Think of Jacob’s hands at the Jabbok, gripping God and refusing to let go. Now God says, drop your hands.
Both are true.
Hold on to God. Let go of the rest.
So, Was It Cruel?
I’m still savouring my friend’s question.
Psalm 46 doesn’t explain why the waters roar. It tells us who is with us when they do.
The Bible’s claim is amazing. God made the universe. On one pale blue dot, He made humans in His image. And He committed to working with us, training and transforming everyone who receives His invitation, for an unknown and incredible eternity.
On a cell wall in Breendonk, someone scratched:
“God alone can save you from this hell. Pray to God, and He will bring you out of it.”
I don’t know who wrote it. I don’t know if they ever walked out of that fort. But they knew where to look.
God is our refuge and strength, a very ready help in trouble.
That tiny speck in the band of light is Earth. Voyager 1 took this picture on February 14, 1990, from about 6 billion kilometres (3.7 billion miles) away. Every person God has made in His image lives on that dot, and there God created a boot camp, a training ground for those who choose to accept His invitation. Photo: NASA/JPL-Caltech.
Four Questions I’m Carrying From Psalm 46
1. Why would God need armies?
Clenildo, the pastor of the pastors we work with, asked me this in another context. I haven’t been able to put it down.
Twice the chorus says, “The LORD of armies is with us.” The God who made heaven and earth doesn’t need anyone’s help. So why does He call Himself the LORD of armies? And what does it mean that those armies are with us?
2. What are the streams?
“There is a river whose streams make the city of God happy, The holy dwelling places of the Most High.”
Many streams flow together into one river, and that river makes God’s city happy. What might those streams be? Where do you see them flowing in your life, or in your church?
3. How do you hear God’s voice?
Only once in this psalm does God speak directly:
“Stop striving and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted on the earth.”
It’s as if He has been listening intently to the psalmist the whole time, and then He finally breaks in.
When you hear Him say this to you, how does He sound? A whisper, or a shout? Gentle or intense? Or something else?
And does God’s interruption make you want to sit back and let Him do whatever He wants? Or does it make you want to dive in and take risks of faith?
4. What is at stake?
Jesus told a story about servants entrusted with their master’s talents (Matthew 25:14–30). Two put the money to work. The third buried his, and explained, “I was afraid.”
Psalm 46 says, “Therefore we will not fear.”
If letting go doesn’t mean burying what God has given us, what risk of faith might He be inviting you to take?
A Prayer
Lord of armies, When the waters roar, Be our refuge.
When we are as tangled as Jacob, Teach us to hold on.
When we strain and strive, Help us drop our hands And know that You are God.
When You call us to risk, Give us courage.
Let Your river flow through us Until Your city is glad.
Amen.
With gratitude, Rick and Deanna
P.S. Know someone carrying a question like my friend’s? Forward this to them.
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Scripture quotations are from the NASB 2020. Breendonk inscription recorded in Olivier van der Wilt, Les détenus de la Sipo-SD en Belgique : des caves de l’avenue Louise aux cellules de Breendonk. English translation ours.
