by Michael Gallup
The next five Mondays I will be exploring Psalm 46 and the issue of silence. This series of blogs are adaptations of a sermon I wrote in 2009.
February 16 was like any Monday, busy. I woke up late and skipped quiet-time in favor of finishing my homework for Greek class and studying for our daily vocabulary quiz. I did well on it and then went to Adolescent Literature after that where I had another quiz. I was in class till eleven and then I was off to take care of some pressing matters. After scarfing down my lunch, I rushed over to the conference room to get fitted for graduation. I then squeezed in a visit to the Administration building to take care of some business matters before my one o’clock. After that class I had a handful of meetings to address and then I began to work on the next day’s assignments before going home.
On my way home, I snuck into the Humanities building to check out the art exhibit, but I did not linger long; I had a lot of work to do. As I left the building, I attempted to cover the fifty yards between the door and my truck as quickly as possible. Yet, in the midst of my dash, I felt an inner plea of divine grace, a spark of mercy begging me to look up.
So, I obliged and I was stunned at what I saw: God’s glory spelled out in the stars. How often had I passed-by such awesome exhibitions of God’s grandeur? In this moment I was reminded that God was indeed with us, that He is huge and the He is beautiful. Something deep within me begged me to stop and stare. However, I agreed to merely slow down my stride; I had more important things to do.
Later that evening, I continued the busyness of the morning. Yet in the midst of my work load, I encountered something marvelously ironic and hauntingly challenging, a verse from Psalm 46, “Be still and know that I am God.”
These simple words hit me like a ton of bricks. I had read this verse of Hebrew poetry hundreds of times and it had produced similar effects in me as a witty bumper sticker or a Hallmark greeting card might. And yet, as I read them again for the first time, that same spark of mercy that pleaded for me to enjoy the view of the Milky Way, lit fire within my heart and I knew that these words were just for me, just as they had been for countless other saints and sinners before me.
In the thick of the insanity of life nothing could quench my thirsty soul more than these words. I needed them like I have ever needed anything. “Be still and know that I am God.”
Michael is a busy person surrounded by grace. He is a student at Denver Seminary and an aspiring church planter. You can read his blog, A Sprig of Hope, by clicking here.