Stanza 3: Be Still, Soul, When Death Comes

Be still, my soul; when dearest friends depart

and all is darkened in the vale of tears,

then you will better know his love, his heart,

who comes to soothe your sorrows and your fears.

Be still, my soul; your Jesus can repay

from his own fullness all he takes away.

I am in a season of death…a friend just recently died of ALS, my husband and I are on the anniversaries of each of our parent’s death, a dear colleague just resigned from working closely with me, and our child’s marriage is dying. Have you ever considered what exactly death takes away? More than just a human or a dream, death takes away our security, connection, input, and hope for change.

Be still, my soul; when dearest friends depart and all is darkened in the vale of tears,

I don’t know about you, but when the hard moments flood over me, I am surprised that loss has come. Elisabeth Elliot says in These Strange Ashes, “To be a follower of the Crucified means, sooner or later, a personal encounter with the cross. And the cross always entails loss.” Yet when it comes, I feel outraged, frustrated that my goals won’t happen, and disappointed that hope for a better relationship is gone. It’s like watching a house that we’ve built burn to the ground…even if we rebuild, it will never be the same. The pain strips away the facade of control and reminds me of my utter vulnerability.

then you will better know his love, his heart, who comes to soothe your sorrows and your fears.

As my tears have fallen this week, my heart craves to know His love and His heart as He provides comfort to my soul. Sometimes I feel that comfort; sometimes I don’t. Thomas a Kempis’s voice creeps in, “When comfort is withdrawn, do not be cast down, but humbly and patiently await the visitation of God. He is able and powerful to give you more grace and more spiritual comfort than you first had.”  For me, awaiting the visitation of God is more like a street fight than a peaceful entrance into rest. I don’t want to “sit in darkness and trust in the name of the Lord” like Isaiah 50:10 tells me to do; I want to either run or fight to find light, to understand, to know what to do to find relief. Yet His quiet voice calls me back; His gentle hand rests on my shoulder like a tender Father calming a screaming child, reminding me that He is here when my fit is over.

Be still, my soul; your Jesus can repay from his own fullness all he takes away.

 Do I believe that Jesus will meet my deepest longing? That He’ll be my security when I panic that I don’t have parents anymore? That He’ll be enough when I feel alone or that “I’m next”? That He’ll remain my anchor when “the mountains fall into the heart of the sea?” (Psalm 46:2). It comes down to whether I have the faith to believe that His hand is reaching out to me in the dark. “Lord, I believe…please help my unbelief (Mark 9:23).”

Thomas Merton brought it back full circle when he said in his Prayer of Unknowing, “My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following Your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please You does in fact please You. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.”

I believe it pleases God deeply when we speak to our souls…when we call them to peace, to faith, to see what we cannot see. O Lord, I believe…please help my unbelief.

Listen to this rendition of Be Still My Soul by Kari Jobe.

All scripture from the ESV.