The sermon invites us to slow down, release control, and find peace by trusting God’s presence and sovereignty amid life’s noise and anxiety.
Friends, some weeks feel like living in a wind tunnel. The headlines howl. The phone hums. The calendar crowds. Even our prayers can sound like hurried headlines—fast, faint, fragmented. And yet, in the middle of the noise, God offers a chair in a quiet corner, a deep breath for a weary chest, a steady hand for a trembling heart. He speaks a single sentence that can still a storm-tossed soul: Be still, and know.
Maybe your heart has been on high alert. Maybe you’ve been trying to hold it all together with a white-knuckled grip—home, health, bills, kids, plans, disappointments. Your mind runs; your sleep hides. You walk into church with a smile that says “I’m fine,” while your insides whisper, “I’m not sure.” Can you relate? Have you ever felt the ache to slow down long enough to hear the Father’s whisper again?
Tim Keller reminds us, “Prayer is both conversation and encounter with God.” —Tim Keller, Prayer: Experiencing Awe and Intimacy with God. Not a memo we send into the sky. Not a speech we perform. A meeting. A nearness. A warm, living exchange with the One who knows your name and numbers your tears. If prayer is a conversation and an encounter, then stillness is not silence for its own sake. Stillness is attention. Stillness is trust. Stillness is the posture of a child who climbs into a father’s lap and stops fidgeting, because love is near and the world is not on their shoulders anymore.
Today, we’ll look closely at a single verse that offers a gentle path for frantic hearts: Psalm 46:10 (ESV) “Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!”
There it is—simple words with ocean depth. “Be still.” Ease the shoulders. Unclench the jaw. Set down the backpack of burdens you’ve been carrying since Tuesday. Take the hurry out of your breathing. Then, “know that I am God.” Knowledge that comes from nearness. Awareness that grows in quiet. The verse doesn’t ask you to fix tomorrow; it invites you to remember Who holds tomorrow. “I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” History is not adrift. Your life is not adrift. God will be exalted. He has the first word, and He will have the last word.
Imagine your soul as a lake at dawn. When the wind calms, the water reflects the hills and the heavens with clear detail. When the gusts pick up, the surface ripples and the reflection gets blurry. Many of us live with waves of distraction—constant alerts, persistent anxieties, nagging questions. Stillness helps the surface settle so the image of God is easier to see, and His voice is easier to hear. It’s not passivity. It’s purposeful calm. It’s the steadying of heart and mind so that faith can listen.
Let me ask you a few tender questions: - When was the last time you lingered with God without watching the clock? - Where do you feel the pull to be in charge, and how is that weight wearing you thin? - What might change if you met the day with a quiet heart instead of a clenched fist?
In this time together, we’ll welcome three simple invitations: to be still and know God, to lay down control and trust Him, and to attend to God with a quiet heart. Not a technique. Not a trend. A way of living that looks at the storm and gazes at the Savior. A way of breathing that trades constant hurry for holy hush. A way of walking that sets the pace to match the Shepherd’s steps.
“Be still, and know that I am God.” Hear it as a Father’s kindness to you. Hear it as a Friend’s arm across your shoulders. Hear it as a faithful promise steadying your feet. While the world shouts, this verse sings. While voices argue, this verse assures. While schedules squeeze, this verse stretches space inside the soul so hope can breathe again.
What if, right now, we opened our hands and hearts and asked God to quiet the inside noise? What if we let His Word stand like a lighthouse when waves rise? He is near. He is enough. He is speaking.
Let’s pray.
Opening Prayer: Father, thank You for inviting us into the calm of Your presence. We confess our racing thoughts, our restless hearts, and our strive-to-survive habits. Speak Your peace over us. By Your Spirit, quiet the noise within and around us. Teach us to be still and to truly know You. We release our grip on control and place our trust in Your strong hands. Fix our eyes on Your greatness—You will be exalted among the nations; You will be exalted in the earth. Make our hearts attentive, our minds clear, and our wills soft before You. In the name of Jesus, our refuge and our strength. Amen.
The line stands like a command and a kindness at the same time. Stop the inner scramble. Look up. Pay attention to the One who speaks. This is more than a pause. This is an act of faith.
The word behind “be still” carries the sense of letting your muscles slacken. Loosen the tension that tries to manage every outcome. Lay down inner resistance. Yield the floor to God’s voice.
The word behind “know” is about personal knowing. It is the knowing that comes from contact, time, and trust. It is closer to recognition than to trivia. It is the way you know a familiar face in a crowd.
This call brings both parts together. Loosen. Listen. Let God be the main reality in the room. Treat His presence as the loudest truth.
You can practice this in very small ways. Sit. Set a timer for two minutes. Whisper a name of God from Scripture. Wait. When the mind wanders, bring it back with that name again. Keep the heart open. This is not performance. This is consent.
“Know that I am God” asks us to face who He is in this psalm. He is a refuge. He is strength. He is help that does not arrive late. He is here.
The psalm paints a world in turmoil. Mountains shift. Waters roar. Nations rage. Kingdoms totter. In the middle of that, God speaks and the earth melts before His word. His voice carries weight that no threat can match.
There is a city in the psalm. A river runs through it and brings gladness. God is in the midst of her. She will not be moved. Help comes when morning breaks. That is the picture of a people held steady by Presence.
He is called the Lord of hosts. That title means He commands armies that do not lose. He is also called the God of Jacob. That name reaches back to promises made to a flawed family. Power and faithfulness stand together in Him.
This helps the heart answer fear. If He is near, strength is near. If He has spoken, the future is not loose. If He has pledged Himself, His people have a shelter that holds.
The last lines lift our eyes far past our own life. “I will be exalted among the nations. I will be exalted in the earth.” That is God’s pledge, not a wish. He will see to it.
The widest stage belongs to Him. Empires fade. Borders shift. News cycles spin. The Name of the Lord rises over all of it. He does not compete. He reigns.
This changes how we wait and how we pray. Quiet trust is not escape. It is agreement with the largest truth. God will lift His fame in every place.
There is also comfort for those who care about people far away. The promise includes every tribe and tongue. Your small prayer in a quiet room lines up with a global plan. Your rest in God makes room for God-sized hope.
This word came to singers who knew danger. Many think of days when a hostile army stood near the gates of Jerusalem. In the night, the Lord acted. Morning brought relief that no strategy could secure. The psalm reads like a song born from that kind of rescue.
He makes wars cease to the end of the earth. He breaks the bow. He snaps the spear. He burns the chariots with fire. He does not only comfort hearts. He ends conflicts. He can stop the machine of violence.
Hearing this, the soul can stop trying to carry what belongs to Him. We release the scripts we write for outcomes. We let His pledge set the tone inside. His exaltation is certain. That certainty steadies people.
So how do we live into this during normal days. Use the hinges of the day. When you wake, before the screen, speak His name and sit for a moment. At midday, pause for three slow breaths and a short line from the psalm. In the evening, lay cares before Him and stop after the amen. Leave a little space.
Let the body help the heart. Plant both feet on the floor. Uncross arms. Inhale through the nose. Exhale longer than the inhale. Say, “You are God,” on the out-breath. The nervous system learns what the mouth says.
Let Scripture lead the way. Read Psalm 46 aloud. Read it again slower. Put a finger on a phrase that stands out. Turn it into a sentence to God. “You are with us.” “You are my fortress.” “You help at daybreak.”
Name the storm without giving it the throne. Say what is real. A bill. A doctor’s report. A hard meeting. Place it before Him. Then return to who He is. “You are God.” Stay there a moment longer than feels natural.
Use simple words. No need to stack syllables. Short prayers often carry more faith because they make room for listening. “Speak, Lord.” “I am here.” “You know.”
Set small cues. Boil water for tea. Let the steam remind you to quiet down inside. Wash dishes. Let the warm water remind you of the river in the city of God. Commutes can become little sanctuaries. Turn off the radio for the last five minutes and sit in quiet at the curb.
Invite community into this. Share with a friend that you are practicing quiet prayer. Ask them to ask you about it. Read the psalm together once a week. Send a short text with the phrase that met you that day.
Carry this into hard work. Some tasks require focus and fire. Start them from a place of attention to God. Whisper, “You are here.” Then begin. When stress spikes, pause for ten seconds. Resume under His gaze.
Let this shape speech. Talk slower. Leave pauses. Ask real questions. Listen for answers. The way we speak to others often mirrors the way we attend to God.
Some days will feel foggy. Sit anyway. Some days the mind races. Sit anyway. Faith keeps the appointment because God is worthy, and the soul is learning His cadence.
Over time, recognition grows. You start to sense His help sooner. You remember His titles faster. You return to peace with fewer detours.
This is simple, and it is strong. Stop the inner scramble. Pay attention. Receive the truth of who He is. Let His promise stretch out over the whole earth and over your small square of it.
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