The Other Side of Stillness

One of my favourite contemporary hymns was written in 1986 by David J. Evans.  During the rise of the charismatic movement in England, Evans became increasingly worried that worship was becoming trivial and self-oriented.  God, it appeared, was continually pushed to the side in favour of one’s heightened spiritual experience. Inspired by the story of Jacob’s declaration that “surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it” (Genesis, 28:16), along with Moses’ interaction with the burning bush, Evans penned lyrics that have continuously beckoned Christians to holy pause.   

Be still for the presence the Lord, the Holy One is here.

Come, bow before him now, with reverence and with fear

In him no sin is found, we stand on holy ground

Be still for the presence of the Lord, the Holy One is here.

The call to stillness is a frequent call in scripture. It demands slowness, a stepping away from busyness. We shut the world out and turn our attention to God’s presence shining all around us. Our stillness leaves us satiated with divine intimacy. We are drawn to intimacy with Jesus; we are filled with the Spirit; we are bathed in delight light. 

There is another side of stillness, however, one we rarely speak about. The call to stillness isn’t merely enjoyed when we have the time free ourselves from distractions. Stillness isn’t just about prayer-filled contemplation. Long before Psalm 46 ever called us to “be still and know that I am God”, Moses instructed the Israel to stillness in the place of chaos and fear. Standing before the Red Sea, with the Egyptian army in close pursuit, Moses instructs the people; “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” When Israel felt at their wits end, or literally at the end of the road, they were called to stillness.

Stillness, then, is not so much a removal of chaos, but a call to reorient ourselves in the face of it. Let’s be honest, observing stillness is easy when we sit in our armchairs, breathe deeply, and engage in centering prayer.  It’s much harder when the struggles of life bear down upon us. When life turns upside down, our natural inclination is to fight for our mastery. We dig our heals in, shake our fists, and do everything we can to exert control over a situation that seems beyond us.  But this is exactly what Moses calls Israel not to do.

Stillness is an act of faithful defiance against the troubles of this world. Despite what the world throws at us, stillness reminds us that deliverance surrounds us. It is a bold incarnation of hope and trust, daring to believe that the God who led us to the waters will provide a way through the waters. This is what Israel experiences. As Moses calls the people to stillness, they witness the Angel of God move from before them to behind them, resting between Isreal and the armies of Egypt. It is a powerful reminder of God’s presence and protection.  It is only in with this assurance Israel can walk forward, stepping into the parted waters.

The Hebrew word for “be still” is taken from the root charash. Interestingly, charash has a connection to the wielding of skills. We use our skills, or the tools at our disposal, to plough a way forward. Yet the meaning changes when speaking stillness. Here, Charash means to be silent, or to be deaf. The point is, instead of masterminding a way forward, through wielding our own mastery, we trust in the divine leading. To be still is to stand in our need for God, and trust that God can do, and will do, what we can never do for ourselves.

The way of faith will not always remain uncomplicated and problem free. Scripture never promises that it will. But what Scripture does promise is that the Lord is there for us. When life turns chaotic, when we are up against immovable obstacles or frightening enemies, we are never left to manage our own deliverance. We are called to be still, to stand in a peace that the world cannot give. And we can doe this only because we stand in God’s presence and dare to hope in God’s promises.

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