Back in one of the dark days of 2003, I remember getting a lift to work from a friend whose home I’d crashed at the previous night. We were driving along South Street just near the Canning Vale Markets when a Hillsong tune came on the CD player with the lyric ‘Jesus I believe in You and I would go to the ends of the the earth, to the ends of the earth’.
I remember turning to my friend, feeling pretty numb, and saying: ’I’d gladly go the ends of the earth right now – outer Mongolia would be fine’.
Sometimes staying is the tough thing, not going.
Our Heavenly Father comes into the reality of our circumstances. Not necessarily to sweep us away to the ends of the earth but to be, as the Psalmist writes in Psalm 46, our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.
There are times when we crave escape – a way of checking out of our mess and being miraculously deposited in a trouble-free place – even outer Mongolia. But it wasn’t the story for Joseph when he found himself in prison, and it wasn’t David’s experience when God prepares a table for him in the presence of his enemies. And, most often, it’s not our story either.
The miraculous truth about our God is that in his compassion and love He is able to bring us beside still waters, to make a spacious place for us, to be our refuge and strength amidst the turmoil. Even thought the earth may give way, even though we may be blindsided with news that shakes us to the core, even though there will be earthquakes from the roaring waters of trouble, there is a river…
Depending on which translation you’re reading from, you’ll likely to stumble on the word‘selah’ three times. In this psalm it’s not only a moment to ‘pause and consder what you’ve just read’, it’s a musical direction: a gentle nod to the band that the tempo, the instrumentation and the sentiment is about to transition.
In movement one (verses 1-3) we discover God in the catastrophe. We’re in there, He’s in there too.
Movement two (verses 4-7) sees a dramatic shift. The seas that were only a verse ago roaring, smashing and foaming are now gentle, life-giving streams of grace. Waters that gladden the heart of God.
The third movement (verses 8-11) is a reflection: thankyou God for Your deliverance. I was stuffed, I was stuck, I was drowning – You reached down and saved me. Perhaps the pinnacle and crowning declaration of Psalm 46 comes in verse 10 when God declares amidst the calamity: ‘Be still and know that I am God’.
I’ve had a refrain rolling around my brain as I’ve meditated on Psalm 46 just now. It gets two births on U2’s most recent album—first as a bridge, then as a refrain.
Let me in the sound / Let me in the sound / Let me in the sound, sound / Meet me in the sound / Let me in the sound / Let me in the sound, now / God, I’m going down / I don’t wanna drown now / Meet me in the sound
I can’t tell you exactly what Bono was thinking when he wrote this, but I can tell you that God wants to meet us in the sound. He wants us to let him in to the sound and be part of the conversation that’s happening in the rough water. And while He wants us to ‘be still and know that he is God’ because he knows what’s best for us, He’s also prepared to be our present help in our times of trouble. To get dirty and meet us in the sound.
Meet Him in the sound.
– Simon Elliott