The Unshakeable City and Her Central River Text: Psalm 46:4-7
Introduction: Two Kinds of Turmoil
The world knows only one kind of response to turmoil, and that is more turmoil. When the mountains of human achievement and security start to tremble and slide into the sea, when the waters of cultural chaos roar and foam, the natural man has no recourse but to roar and foam right back. His heart fails him for fear. He is shaken because his foundations are shaking. He has built his house on the sand of human autonomy and political solutions, and when the storm comes, as it always does, great is the fall of it.
But the Christian knows of a different reality. The Christian is called to a settled stability in the midst of utter chaos. Psalm 46 opens with this very contrast. Though the earth gives way and the mountains are cast into the heart of the sea, "we will not fear." This is not a command to engage in some kind of pious self-deception, pretending that the chaos is not real. The chaos is very real. The nations are, in fact, raging. The kingdoms are, in fact, tottering. The difference is not the external circumstance, but the internal reality. The believer has access to a different foundation, a different city, a different source of life.
This psalm is a song for the sons of Korah, which is itself a gospel lesson. Korah was the one who rebelled against Moses and was swallowed by the earth. By all rights, his sons should have been swallowed too. But God in His mercy spared them, and they went on to become worship leaders in Israel. They are singing about the earth giving way, and they know what they are talking about. Their very existence is a testimony to the fact that God can deliver from the very jaws of destruction. They are singing of a stability that is not of this world, a peace that comes from a source the world cannot see.
The first part of the psalm shows us the turmoil of the natural world, the deconstruction of the created order. This second section, which is our text, pivots to show us the source of our supernatural stability. The world is a raging sea; the City of God is a peaceful river. The world is shaken; the City of God is immoveable. The world has its roaring nations; the City has her present God.
The Text
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
The holy dwelling places of the Most High.
God is in the midst of her, she will not be shaken;
God will help her when morning dawns.
The nations roar, the kingdoms shake;
He gives His voice, the earth melts.
Yahweh of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our stronghold. Selah.
(Psalm 46:4-7)
The Glad River in the Holy City (v. 4)
We begin with the stark contrast between the roaring, chaotic sea of verse 3 and the glad, peaceful river of verse 4.
"There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, The holy dwelling places of the Most High." (Psalm 46:4)
The world is a saltwater ocean, vast, undrinkable, and terrifying in its storms. But in the midst of all this is the City of God, and at its center is a river. This is not a natural river. The historical Jerusalem was not situated on a major river; its water source, the Gihon Spring, was modest. This is a theological river. This is the river of God's life, His grace, His presence. This is the river that flows from the throne of God and of the Lamb in the New Jerusalem (Rev. 22:1). This is the river that Ezekiel saw flowing from the threshold of the temple, bringing life wherever it went (Ezek. 47:9).
Notice what this river does. Its streams "make glad" the city. The world seeks its gladness in stability, in prosperity, in political victory. But the city of God finds its gladness in the presence of God Himself. This river is God. Jeremiah calls God the fountain of living waters (Jer. 2:13). Jesus Christ is the source of living water (John 4:14, Zech. 13:1). The Holy Spirit is the river of life flowing from the believer's heart (John 7:38). The Triune God Himself is the river that gladdens the church.
This gladness is not a fragile happiness dependent on circumstances. It is a deep, settled joy that flows from an inexhaustible source. The nations can rage, the mountains can fall, but the river still flows. Our gladness is not downstream from the political headlines; it is upstream, flowing directly from the throne of God. The city is called "the holy dwelling places of the Most High." It is set apart, consecrated by the very presence of God. Holiness is not first a matter of our performance, but of His presence. Because He dwells there, the place is holy.
The Unshakeable Presence (v. 5)
Verse 5 explains why this city is so secure. It is not because of its high walls or its mighty armies. It is because of its central occupant.
"God is in the midst of her, she will not be shaken; God will help her when morning dawns." (Psalm 46:5)
The security of the church is not a feature of the church itself, but of the God who resides within her. "God is in the midst of her." This is the doctrine of Immanuel, God with us. This is the great promise of the covenant. He is not a distant landlord or an absentee king. He is present, right in the middle of our affairs. And because He is in the midst of her, "she will not be shaken." The word for shaken here is the same word used for the tottering mountains in verse 2. The very foundations of the world may be moved, but the church, the city of God, will not be.
Why? Because her foundation is not the created order. Her foundation is the Creator Himself. To shake the church, you would have to shake God. And since He is the unmovable mover, the unshakable ground of all being, His people are secure. This is a promise. It is not a suggestion. It is a statement of theological fact.
And the help He provides is timely. "God will help her when morning dawns," or, as some translations have it, "at the break of morning," or "right early." God is never late. His deliverance may seem to us to be a long time in coming, as we endure the long night of trial. We may be like the disciples in the boat, straining at the oars through the dark watches of the night. But at the fourth watch, at the break of dawn, Jesus comes walking on the water. God loves a good cliffhanger, but His timing is always perfect. He will not let the night last one moment longer than is necessary for our good and His glory. The help arrives with the morning light, dispelling the darkness.
The Melting Voice (v. 6)
Verse 6 returns to the chaos outside the city walls, but from a new perspective. We see the turmoil of the nations not as an ultimate threat, but as a prelude to the judgment of God.
"The nations roar, the kingdoms shake; He gives His voice, the earth melts." (Genesis 46:6)
Here we see the impotence of earthly power contrasted with the omnipotence of the divine Word. The nations "roar." It is the sound of beasts, of chaos, of empty threats. The kingdoms "shake," or totter. They are inherently unstable, built on rebellion and pride. This is the constant background noise of human history. The headlines are always filled with the roaring and shaking of men.
But then God acts. And how does He act? He does not send armies. He does not convene a council. "He gives His voice." He speaks. It is the same creative power we see in Genesis 1. God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. Here, God speaks, and His enemies are undone. "The earth melts." The very substance of their rebellion, the ground on which they stand, dissolves at the sound of His voice. All their strutting and posturing, all their military might and political maneuvering, is reduced to nothing by a single divine utterance.
This should radically reorient our understanding of the culture war. We see the nations raging against the Lord and His Christ, and we are tempted to fear. We see kingdoms setting themselves against His law, and we are tempted to despair. But we must remember that their roaring is just noise. Their shaking is just the death throes of a rebellious age. When God decides the time is right, He will simply speak, and the whole edifice of secularism will melt like wax before the fire.
The Covenantal Stronghold (v. 7)
The verse concludes this section with a triumphant, confessional refrain. It is the anchor that holds fast in the storm.
"Yahweh of hosts is with us; The God of Jacob is our stronghold. Selah." (Psalm 46:7)
This is the great conclusion. This is the truth we are to preach to our own hearts. "Yahweh of hosts is with us." Yahweh is the covenant name of God, the God who keeps His promises. "Of hosts" means He is the commander of the armies of heaven. All the angelic powers are at His command. This warrior God, this covenant-keeping king, is not against us, but "with us."
And He is also "the God of Jacob." This is wonderfully specific. Why Jacob? Why not the God of Abraham or Isaac? Because Jacob was the schemer, the supplanter, the scoundrel. Jacob was the one who wrestled with God and walked with a limp for the rest of his life. To call God the God of Jacob is to say that He is the God of grace. He is the God who chooses and saves and disciplines and loves weak, sinful, struggling people like us. He is not just the God of the patriarchs in general; He is the God of that patriarch. If God can be the God of Jacob, He can be our God too.
This God is our "stronghold," our refuge, our high tower. He is the place we run to for safety. The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run into it and are safe (Prov. 18:10). This is not a truth to be debated, but a reality to be inhabited. This is why the verse ends with "Selah." This means pause, reflect, meditate on this. Let this truth sink down from your head to your heart. Stop listening to the roaring of the nations for a moment and listen to the promise of your God. The Lord of Armies is with us. The God who saved a man like Jacob is our fortress. Let that sink in.