Psalm 46

You're on your way to buy some food items from a shop close by. As you walk, you think to yourself about just how bad things have become. You're not sure how much the things you're going to buy will cost today, but one thing is certain—the prices won't be lower. You stopped hoping for that months ago, and these days, you just cut off what you can from your already stringent list of needs. You can't afford wants anymore, you think. And even some needs, you have to delay. You're so lost in thought that you don't notice until it's too late: the ground beneath your feet is filled with cracks. They look like the kind you'd only seen in very dry areas during harmattan—never during the rainy season you're currently experiencing—only worse. These ones are far larger. Your eyes widen in alarm as you begin to hear a low, rumbling sound and the ground shifts underneath your feet and it's like the world is shaking. You lose your balance even as a part of your mind tries to define what it is you're currently experiencing. An earthquake. 'But it's never happened before,' you think. Not in this country where the closest you've seen are gullies dug deep by enduring floods. But try as you might, there's no doubting it. Because as you try to run, food items and the state of the economy thoroughly forgotten, you see houses along the once-quiet street begin to crumble and sink into the ground as screams tear out from all sides. In your confusion, you stumble to the floor, and watch in alarm as where you've fallen finally gives way, and in a moment of irony, you finally get the answer to a question you'd always asked as a child. What's really underneath the ground? Lava or water? So, this scene played out in my head sometime this morning, and the next thing that followed was a scripture: So we will not fear when earthquakes come and the mountains crumble into the sea. Psalms 46:2 NLT It's a scripture I've grown as familiar with as I have my own name. It's one of those that come unbidden when I'm a thought away from an anxiety attack. But today, the Lord gave it a whole new meaning, and I wanted to share it with you. Whenever I read "though the earth gives way", as other versions would say it, I'd try to picture it but would always fall short. Today, for the first time ever, it came alive. And with the insight came disbelief, as a part of me wondered if the psalmist who wrote this knew what he was saying. But I believe he did. And I believe God watched, thoroughly aware of the amount of trust that had been placed on His person as such words were etched into the enduring slates of eternity. "So we will not fear…" I have known fear. It has sat with me as I pondered on the next step to take concerning any matter. It has entered the room through the words of lecturers who in a bid to bring us to the reality of things threw us deeper into its greedy jaws. Perhaps fear rode into my life the first time I ever experienced pain as a child, and built a home within the confines of my heart. But since I became a child of Jesus, I have noticed fear shrink back in terror. I have seen its force wane and its power ebb with every word that flows from the Potter's mouth. I have seen courage sink its roots deep and drive fear out of the rooms it had occupied within me: sometimes slowly bringing out it's tentacles, bit by bit, and other times throwing out its things with sheer ferocity. And today, this scripture reminded me of just how far we can go with Jesus, if we allow ourselves trust Him. I was reminded to trust the One who holds it all together and isn't burdened by the weight of His multiverse. And I ask you to do same. Lean into the arms that have proven steady century after century. Lean into the love of a friend who sees you at your worst and yet never reduces the potency of His love. Lean into the wisdom of a Father who has been since the first man, and who has more than your best interest at heart. Lean into Him and find a peace that goes beyond your ultimate senses—the type that can let you stay still in the middle of an earthquake, be it an external one or the turbulence that tries to besiege your soul. You are loved, and Jesus cares about you. For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. Jeremiah 29:11 NLT