God is near in a way that asks for a response. The image is not of a passive guardian who acts at a distance, but of a shelter whose door must be opened. When trouble comes, the invitation is to move — to run, to enter, to press into God’s nearness. Practically, that means forming the habit of turning toward God in the first moment of fear, naming the danger, and seeking refuge in prayer, Scripture, or community.
This is not about earning safety; it is about practicing dependency. The shelter is ready, but the work of refuge is the work of the believer’s deliberate turning. Learning to run to God reshapes how anxiety and crisis are handled: the pattern becomes not first panic or isolation, but immediate seeking of God’s presence and help.
Isaiah 33:2-3 (ESV)
O LORD, be gracious to us; we wait for you. Be our arm every morning, our salvation in the time of trouble. At the uprooting of nations you will plant the harvest of righteousness; you will be far from terror.
Reflection: The next time a worry or fear surfaces today, what will be your immediate, concrete step to “run” to God (for example: stop, pray one-sentence prayer, open Psalms 46, text a Christian friend)? Do that now or schedule it for this afternoon.
God’s help often comes as sustaining strength rather than instant rescue. The promise is presence and empowerment to endure what remains around us. When mountains fall and waters roar, the power given is for steady feet and calm hearts—so that a person can bear, grow, and sometimes even praise amid hardship.
This changes expectations: instead of demanding that every difficulty vanish, a faithful life learns to ask for courage, clarity, and the perseverance to finish the day well. Endurance is a spiritual gift and habit—practices like short prayers, Scripture memorization, and small acts of faith build the muscles that carry someone through seasons that do not immediately end.
Habakkuk 3:17-19 (ESV)
Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the LORD; I will take joy in the God of my salvation. God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer's; he makes me tread on my high places.
Reflection: Name one ongoing difficulty that you have been hoping God would remove. What is one small, daily practice you can begin tomorrow (a morning prayer, a 3-minute Scripture reading, a weekly phone call with a friend) to receive strength for that specific struggle?
True security is not built on the shifting ground of this world but on the reality of belonging to God’s eternal city. The psalm’s “city of God” image reminds believers that earthly foundations can crumble, yet their deepest identity is already placed in a stable, unshakeable home. This perspective reframes loss, fear, and the urge to cling: life’s deepest loyalty is to the Kingdom that cannot be moved.
Living as citizens of that city affects daily choices: priorities change, anxieties lessen, and courage to act for justice, mercy, and hope is renewed. When life’s foundations tremble, remembering one’s heavenly citizenship anchors decisions and calms the heart.
Hebrews 11:13-16 (ESV)
These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.
Reflection: List three immediate worries tied to your security (work, health, reputation). For each, write one kingdom truth that counters the fear. Choose one worry and replace a typical anxious response with the kingdom truth this week (e.g., when you start to ruminate, speak the truth aloud).
The river that flows from the city brings life outward, not just inward. God’s peace and joy are meant to heal nations through people who carry and share them. When God’s presence refreshes an individual, the natural spiritual response is to become a channel: to invite, to serve, to speak gently, and to bring people toward the places where God’s life flows.
Being a conduit looks like practical compassion—listening to a neighbor, inviting someone to community, offering hospitality, or bringing small relief to someone’s pain. These actions are not mainly about fixing problems but about pointing others to the source so that healing and reconciliation can begin.
Ezekiel 47:1-5 (ESV)
Then he brought me back to the door of the house, and behold, water was issuing from below the threshold of the house toward the east; for the front of the house was toward the east. The water was flowing down from below the south side of the temple, south of the altar. He said to me, "Son of man, have you seen this?" Then he brought me, and behold, water was gushing out from below the threshold of the house toward the east, for the water was flowing down from below the threshold of the house, and going eastward...
Reflection: Who in your life needs the refreshment of God’s peace this week? Choose one concrete step (phone call, meal, invitation to church or small group, a short note) and do it within the next 48 hours.
Suffering does not disqualify someone from ministry; it can become the very platform for deep compassion. Those who have walked hard roads understand pain in ways others cannot, and that experience equips them to comfort and guide. God’s comfort in affliction is intended to be passed on; the healed hurt becomes a place where others find empathy and hope.
This means viewing wounds not as shameful secrets to hide but as testimony of survival and grace. Sharing limits and pain with wisdom and humility opens doors for others to receive comfort, to grieve, and to find God’s joy even amid ongoing struggle.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 (ESV)
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.
Reflection: Think of one personal struggle you have endured. How could you use that experience this month to comfort someone else in a concrete way (a listening visit, joining a support group, writing a short honest note of encouragement)? Make a plan and take the first step this week.
In this first Advent sermon on the theme of Peace, we explored Psalm 46 and its message of God as our ever-present refuge and strength. We reflected on the story of the Sons of Korah, whose family history was marked by rebellion but ultimately redeemed by God’s grace, showing that God can bring peace out of turmoil. The psalm’s vivid imagery of chaos—earthquakes, roaring waters, and falling mountains—reminds us that God’s nearness and help are not about removing trouble, but about empowering us to endure and overcome it. We considered how the “city of God” and the “river of life” point to our true citizenship in God’s eternal kingdom, where ultimate peace and healing await. The sermon concluded with a personal testimony about living with Parkinson’s disease, emphasizing that God’s peace is real and sustaining even when troubles persist, and that we are called to bring others to the river of God’s joy and peace.
God’s protection and help during your times of trouble is very much within reach. He is ever-present for you, very near to be found by you. The point is this: God is very near, he is our helper, and we must turn to his help in our time of trouble.
Becoming a Christian doesn’t make your troubles disappear. What it does do is give you an ever-present help in your times of trouble. God’s protection is through Jesus, who knows how to overcome any and every trouble you face.
The help God has available to you right now is not a help that ends your troubles. His help is about giving you power to overcome. He protects you in the storm so you can safely pass through it, and he strengthens you so you will overcome as you endure.
Though the earth give way underneath our feet— though the very foundation of our life crumbles— we will not fear. We turn to God instead of fear. God is near, in a position already to help us.
Through your troubles, remember where your residency truly lies… it is not on this earth, it is in the city of God, with God and with his people; so, you are not alone! Your final destiny is secure.
My friends, God has placed us in his city so that we might bring the nations to this tree of life, to Jesus, for peace and healing. The river and the city of God is a place of peace.
Evil starts wars, our God ends them. Evil will never end a war, and this is something we need to understand. People who don’t have God, who refuse God, will never end wars. Even when they say they want peace, wars will persist until the Lord returns.
The Lord says, “Be still and know that I am God and I am the One in charge.” Your troubles aren’t in charge. Your storms aren’t in charge. The nations and their governments aren’t in charge. Be still— quiet your troubled heart, know that he is God, and just worship him.
Even though I’ve been hit with this— you know, this did not surprise God— the Lord has been with me and has led my life to this point, and he will continue to lead my life from here on out. The Lord is my refuge, my hope is in him, and he is my peace.
There is a river that brings joy to the Lord’s people, and I don’t care what troubles come in this life— that river will never run dry. I intend to bring others to that river of joy and peace until the Lord comes again to take me home.
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