When Peace Like A River
In recent days, Balrogs have stalked our desperate land …”
On January 9, 2020, those were the words I used to begin a reflection on the all-consuming power of God’s holiness. Australia was in the grip of the worst fire season in recent history, destruction and loss were a palpable reality, so I sat and wrote, When All That Remains Is Ash. Little did I know, even as I wrote the closing paragraph, that a pandemic would soon wash over the world, or that only a little over a year later, my home would face the second scourge of an Australian existence — flood.
“Even as I write this, the fires still burn. But one day soon, through the blackened earth, green shoots will spring up again. The stark forests will again echo with the song of birds. The hills will once again be clothed in splendour. The fire will have had its day, but the earth will continue to sing of the glory of its creator. God is a consuming fire, but the balm of his grace has given comfort. The cross stands scorched and smouldering with his wrath and now the Lamb that was slain has overcome our destruction. Though we may soon count everything else as loss, we look to him and discover that he is enough.”
Green shoots did appear, the hills robed themselves again in splendour, and the earth sang. The gentle river that winds itself past my sleepy little town continued its endless quest to empty itself into the sea. Life resumed. A semblance of peace settled into the valley. The fires, though not forgotten, were a distant ember of a memory.
Ironically, it was that which we desperately prayed for last January, that many are praying for again, albeit with a different emphasis. Last year we scoured the forecast looking for rain, our hope for an embattled nation at breaking point, and yet again we find ourselves scouring the forecast for rain, now a harbinger of doom for flooding communities. The gentle river that winds itself past my sleepy town is gentle no more. Hundreds of communities just like mine have been woken from their slumber, called into hurried action, fighting the rising tide of carnage that threatens home and breath. Like fire, water is also an unstoppable force of destruction that can sweep all before it in a sudden rushing torrent, or more subtly seep in and erode the foundation from under our feet.
Just as fire is used throughout Scripture as an image of judgement, but also blessing, water is as well.
Consider the rising waters of God’s wrath as Noah alone escaped the judgement that swept over the entire world. So can we confidently say that God is judging our nation? Surely we deserve it! Well, maybe, but I’m not so sure we should draw that conclusion with the confidence some seem to carry.
The covering waters aren’t always portrayed as judgement, for even as Habakkuk pronounces his woes, he points to a coming day of blessing.
“For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the LORD as the waters cover the sea.” (Habakkuk 2:14, ESV)
The expanse of water that covers everything also carries an image of God’s all-encompassing presence, a glory that immerses all, a reality that changes the landscape and erases every landmark. Could it be, that even as the flood waters creep over the landscape, we see a picture of God’s grace that spreads among the nations, filling every low place, transforming and reshaping the terrain to conform to his plan? Could it be that rather than judgement, our rising river was a gracious call to attend to the invitation of a God who extends his grace even to sinners?
“If only you had paid attention to my commands. Then your peace would have been like a river, and your righteousness like the waves of the sea.” (Isaiah 48:18, CSB)
So as our nation recovers from the ever swinging pendulum of fire and flood, I choose to look to the beckoning hand of God to find my peace in the grace he pours out on me in Christ. I choose to sing the well known refrain, “When peace like a river attendeth my way… it is well, it is well with my soul.” Or, maybe less well known, the song of Frances Havergal.
Like a river glorious is God’s perfect peace, over all victorious in its bright increase; perfect, yet it floweth fuller ev’ry day; perfect, yet it groweth deeper all the way.
Hidden in the hollow of His blessed hand, never foe can follow, never traitor stand; not a surge of worry, not a shade of care, not a blast of hurry touch the spirit there.
Ev’ry joy or trial falleth from above, traced upon our dial by the Sun of Love; we may trust Him fully all for us to do—They who trust Him wholly find Him wholly true.
Stayed upon Jehovah, hearts are fully blest—finding, as He promised, perfect peace and rest.
My prayer is for a gospel flood, for grace that runs ahead and fills every low place, for a landscape washed new under the blessing and favour of God. Our nation may not deserve it, but it desperately needs it.
