Whenever I lead folks in centering prayer I begin the time by quoting Psalm 46:10: “Be still and know that I am God.” I then slowly work backwards through it as a meditative point of departure for silent prayer. I’ll say:

Be still and know that I am God. (pause)
Be still and know that I am. (pause)
Be still and know. (pause)
Be still. (pause)
Be.

It’s amazing how well each successive line both emphasizes the whole meaning and invites us to meditate on a new dimension of the whole.

Still, there’s one thing that nags me whenever I use this verse to open a time of contemplative prayer: that’s not what it means in its original context!

In context God is telling the nations to “Stop fighting!” Because trying to “out gun” God is futile and stupid! God is the only one who can bring complete “devastation on the earth” and who can “shatter” all our weapons of war. Psalm 46:10, in context, has the tone of command, not comfort.

AND YET… my mind then skips to Romans 7 and 8 where there is a different kind of war raging. Here the war is inside me. It’s a war between my sinful mind and my redeemed mind—between my “flesh” and the Holy Spirit who indwells me.

And in Romans 8 we discover that this internal battle is also futile. God has already won it! The Holy Spirit himself proclaims to me that I am safe! That I am God’s beloved child! That I am a co-heir with Jesus himself! (Romans 8:15-17). What glorious news! So glorious that the “sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing the glory that is going to be revealed!”  

AND YET… all the trials and sufferings I undergo in this chaotic life are so enormous! I believe that the glory of the next life will make it all worth it (Lord, help my unbelief!), but what on earth am I supposed to do in the meantime?!

“Be still—stop fighting—and know that I am God!”

The words are indeed a command to my anxious, self-hating, fearful old self. To that part of me God says, “Down boy! Stop that racket! I’m in charge here!”

At the same time the words are sweet comfort to my faithful, trusting side which is held firm in the Spirit’s loving embrace. To that part of me God gently says, “Be still, child. Lean against my breast and rest. I am your tender Father and I will watch over you. Nothing in all of creation can take you from me. You are safe.”

So, whatever you want to call it: “centering” prayer (because my attention is centered on God’s almighty powerful care for me) or “contemplative” prayer (because it’s releasing my racing thoughts and attending to God’s loving presence) or “wordless” prayer (because I do not need to say anything while the Holy Spirit himself is “interceding for me with inexpressible groanings”), it’s all the same thing. It’s letting God win the war in my soul for me. It’s being still, and knowing that he is, truly, God.