What meteorologists are apparently calling the “arctic blast” — lows in the 20s in central Mississippi in mid-November — lends a singular stillness to a morning in which actually nothing is still. Leaves and grasses tremble as the sunshine dances its declaration of the glory of God and the dogs and I run circles in the frost-crusted field.
We often use “still” as a sort of perjorative adverb designating things that have remained unchanged where we hoped or expected them to be different: still single, still job hunting, still confused. But it can also be an adverb designating the things that remain steadfast in the world of too many changes.
There is an essential stillness about the soul making its boast in the Lord, a rootedness underlying real rejoicing.
We can step forward confidently, toward whatever uncertain future, because there are certainties which shall still and always be certain, no matter what else changes. We have a Father who still loves us, a Christ who still intercedes for us, a Spirit who still helps us in our weakness. Our hope is still an anchor for the soul, tethering us to Christ, the Rock of our salvation.
So that whatever remains lamentably unchanged, whatever changes, we can still trust in Him, because He is still faithful.
I join Kate Motaung and the Five Minute Friday gang today, writing on her prompt, “Still.” The button above will take you to her page, where you can read other posts and join in yourself.
©2014 by Stacy Nott