Though the Earth Gives Way

Death possesses a disorienting power. Death disorients because it robs us of what is foundational to our lives. Our security is found in the phone calls we have with family, our inside jokes, our holiday rituals, the stories from our elders of how things once were. These rhythms and stories are the foundations we build our lives on. And then the earth gives way.  Death robs us of the foundations of home, companions, and community. What is our world when those we love are gone? We are built by their stories, recipes, and habits and who are we when they are gone? Who are we when those who have formed us and those we have formed are taken away? This is why death exercises a disorienting power. Death causes the earth beneath our feet to give way. 

The Psalms are ready though for a disoriented soul. The Psalms are well acquainted with a life that often puts us into a place of hopelessness. The Psalms poetically work through the problem of evil as we bring our perplexed thoughts and emotions to the Lord. 

Consider how Psalm 46 can address the soul that is disoriented by death. 

Psalm 46
To the choirmaster. Of the Sons of Korah. According to Alamoth. A Song.

God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear 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. Selah

The anchor of the tottering sea of this whole Psalm is God’s stable and strong presence. The Scriptures regularly tell the people of God to not be afraid, but this charge is not given in a cold manner. The Psalmist provides disturbing imagery that would strike fear in any heart. It’s not that the world is not scary. We live in the midst of demonic evil, wars, natural disasters, acts of terrorism, and heart attacks. Death stands ready to take everything away from us. And the Spirit of God through the Psalmist speaks to our panicked souls and says God is our refuge, therefore we will not fear. The earth may give way, but God is our ever present help. 

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 her; she shall not be moved;
God will help her when morning dawns.
The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;
he utters his voice, the earth melts.
The LORD of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah

O, the imagery of the Psalms that in the presence of apocalyptic events we are told that there is a river. Do you hear the trickling waters over the smooth rocks? Does anything calm the soul like that sound? Does anything teach us about God’s tender touch like cool waters passing through our fingers and the life he brings from lapping from a stream? The life of God makes glad the city of God. And what is our assurance in a collapsing world? That city, his people, shall not be moved, for he is in her midst. Do you hear the clamoring of war? Shield and sword with screams of terror. The nations do indeed rage. But God utters his voice and the earth melts. Oh the grandeur of God! He is like a stream that brings gladness to our souls, but he is also like lava melting any evil in his path. The pattern and parallelism of this poem reminds us that the LORD is with us and he is our fortress. Our security is not found in the world not being unpredictable and terrifying, but in the fact that God is greater than what we fear and he is with us. 

Come, behold the works of the LORD,
how he has brought desolations on the earth.
He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the chariots 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 of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah

The Psalmist calls us to behold the works of God, particularly the desolations he brings and the peace he makes.  

The Psalmist then invites us to “Be still, and know that I am God.” In a world of hurry and panic, God says, consider my works and be still and contemplate that I am God. It’s not quite clear what role “Selah” means in the Psalms, but what seems to be most convincing is a call to pause and contemplate. This is fitting at least in its function because as we read the words, we are invited to think, “Wait, who did God just say he was?” 

Once again we hear the reverberating words that the LORD is with us and is our fortress. This is how we stabilize ourselves in a world where the foundations are regularly crumbling under our feet. Even death. Even death? How? It is so final and certain. It severs relationships. It brings decay to those we love and one day it will do so to our own bodies. 

This is why the glad tidings of Advent, Epiphany, and soon Easter are indeed glad tidings. They address a real darkness. A darkness that brings real fear. In the shadow of death our hope is that Christ was born, Christ died, and Christ lives evermore. Come, behold the works of God. See Christ and his work. He who was swallowed by death so that he may bring us out of death’s dark belly. Great are the desolations that God brought on the house of Egypt, but greater the desolation Christ has brought to the grave. Death can rob us of our loved ones and even of our own life, but Christ has robbed death of its power. 

Christ is our refuge and strength. Christ is our fortress. Be still and know that he is God. The earth will give way, water will foam, and the nations will rage. But Christ will strike the earth with a rod of iron. He will melt the earth with his words. He will judge the wicked. And he will console his people with his presence. Christ is exalted and will be exalted all the more in the earth, until the day that the earth gives way no more.