Safe in the City of God
Geoff Ziegler, July 26, 2026
Psalm 46
When you think about it, verse 2 of the passage that we just read is rather extraordinary. “Therefore, we will not be afraid.” We will not be afraid, even though the earth trembles and the mountains topple into the depths of the seas.” Even despite all the chaos, all the uncertainty, all that’s wrong in this world, we will not be afraid. Wouldn’t you like to be able to say that and not just say that, but mean it?
If there’s one thing we know, even from a young age—it’s that there are reasons to be afraid in this world. When we’re little kids, maybe we fear the dark, or loud vacuum cleaners, or our parents leaving us in nursery. As we get older our fears get more defined—we learn about bad guys, and tornadoes, sicknesses, puberty.
And then in adulthood, our fears take on a whole new level of clarity. Our minds go through different scenarios: what would happen if I was diagnosed with terminal cancer—what would happen to my family? What if I’m laid off and I’m not able to pay my bills and I lose my home? What happens if one of my kids gets picked on in school, and that develops an insecurity where they don’t feel comfortable asserting themselves, and so they don’t ask questions in school, which means they stop doing well, which means that they aren’t able to go to the college they really wanted, and that means they also take a real hit to their self-confidence, so that they never really go after the job that they want but instead are stuck flipping burgers at Burger King, not that there’s anything wrong with that, except they’ll be so unhappy!
We feel these things because we are in a world where the earth trembles. That is, we’re in a world that is unpredictable, that doesn’t work how it should. A world where it feels like we’re fighting a losing battle with chaos—we’re just waiting for something in our car or home to break, for that unexpected bill, for some work crisis. It’s always something. And that’s just the little things. We live in a world that can’t seem to stop fighting. Always somewhere there are soldiers being senselessly killed as they seek to senselessly kill others.
We’re afraid, because the world is not safe.
So how can anyone say, “we will not be afraid?”
We can understand being able to say, “We will not pay attention to our fears.” Because that’s how we generally cope, right? We try to avoid thinking about scary possibilities; maybe we avoid reading much news for that very reason. We distract ourselves with busyness, entertainment, scrolling on social media. But that doesn’t free us from our fears. It doesn’t diminish our sense of being horribly vulnerable. It just buries it.
My guess is none of us enjoy worrying. I don’t know anyone who says, “Man, I wish I was even more filled with anxiety.” We know that the fears we have can cripple us at times, can keep us from sleeping well, from deep joy. Wouldn’t it be great to say, “I will not be afraid” and be able truly to mean it? Don’t you want to say, “I will not be afraid?”
This Psalm offers us a way. It is written to help us learn, over time, to be able genuinely to say those words: to increasingly be able to face life without fear. And the way it offers us fearlessness is by giving us a vision of the world: “Come and see” it says in verse 8.
Who
But first, before we get to seeing what the Psalm invites us to see, we must notice where we need to be looking from to experience this kind of security. For a careful reading of this Psalm will reveal that this confidence is not something that all people can experience everywhere: to not be afraid, you need to be standing in the right place.
Some people, the Psalm tells us, should be afraid. Verse 6 talks about the earth “melting” and it’s a word almost always used in the Bible for people trembling in fear. It’s saying that if you’re living on the “earth,” you should fear. Because the “earth” is noisy and unpredictable. The earth is a place of trembling, where those mountains that look strong and secure can suddenly crash into the ocean. The earth is a place of chaos where the waves of the oceans roar and foam. The earth is a place where things fall apart, where nations rage in war.
By the “earth” here the Psalm is not speaking about creation, about planet earth. It’s talking specifically about the world in its sinful and broken condition, where human society no longer lives under God’s rule but instead has set him aside and rejected him. In a world that does not acknowledge its rightful king, there’s a God-vacuum, which allows chaos and disorder to reign. Warfare at its heart is about the sinful human impulse to be in control, to lift ourselves up to a place never meant for us. War happens because God is not acknowledged. Because of this, the earth is a terrifying and seemingly hopeless state of affairs—here, fear is appropriate.
But this Psalm tells us that there is another place where we can live, and in that place, we can say “We will not be afraid.” That place is identified in verse 4: “There is a river—its streams delight the city of God.”
From the time of David onward there is a city that becomes the focal point of the Old Testament called Zion. Zion was on one hand simply another name for Jerusalem, the capital city. But just like the Davidic king, the name also pointed to something bigger, something transcendent. It was a name meant to remind people of a presence, and a promise. Zion was the city that God symbolically chose to make his home, residing, again, symbolically, in the temple; it was the city where God most clearly revealed his desire to welcome people back into loving communion with him, where God visibly and explicitly was king.
And Zion was also the city attached to God’s promise that one day he would enthrone a king from the line of David who would be unlike any other. His rule would perfectly express the rule of God, causing this city, this kingdom to truly be filled with God’s love and God’s justice and God’s permanence, so that all would be right. One day in this city people would be able to experience loving connection with each other without any distrust. No front doors would need locks and there would be no need for police to roam the streets. People would be completely protected; no enemies would ever enter their gates. People could live with joy: for they would live in the loving presence of God, through his king. God would be there.
It’s those who live in this city who are able to say, “We will not be afraid.” Yes, pepole outside the city in the God-forsaking world should fear, but those within can be secure.
And you, if you are a believer in Christ, are one of the members who live in this city.
For when this Psalm is talking about living in this city, it’s not literally speaking about having a Jerusalem zip code. It’s talking about people who have placed their hope in this promise of God’s king making all things right. People who have chosen to belong to that community who have made God their king and their refuge. This is why the Psalm begins, “God is our refuge and strength,” and this is why the repeated refrain is, “The Lord of Armies is with us, the God of Jacob is our stronghold.” To live in the city of God is to be part of the people who have taken refuge in this God.
And because Jesus is God’s long-promised king, the Son of God whose rule brings the world under God and makes all things right, if you are a believer in Jesus, God is your king, Zion is your home city. Every person who has bent the knee to King Jesus and has joined his people—his Church: we are those who are now citizens of the city of Zion—a city that right now is hidden in the heavenly realms where all who have died in Christ now reside, and a city that one day when Jesus returns will come to earth.
The point is that if you belong to that city; if Jesus is your king, you are someone who has every right to say, “We will not be afraid,” because God is your refuge.
Why We Can Be Fearless
Now that sounds like the Christian thing to say: if God is your refuge, you are safe. But really, what does that mean? Because, let’s face it, people who have trusted in God all the time go through some really hard things. And if that’s so, how in the world can we be free from fear?
As I said earlier, to lead us out of fear, this Psalm offers us a new way of seeing. “Come and see the works of the Lord,” it says in verse 8. This is how we learn not to be afraid. By seeing rightly. And there’s really three things we who belong to Zion are here invited to see.
See the Devastation
If we continue reading verse 8, we see, perhaps to our surprise, that learning to not be afraid comes in seeing how God brings devastation.
“Come, see the works of the Lord, who brings devastation on the earth.” Now that’s odd. How in the world can that make us less afraid? Well, notice what it is the God devastates: “God makes wars cease throughout the earth. He shatters bows and cuts spears to pieces; he sets wagons, here likely meaning chariots, ablaze.” Remember, the earth here is the place of rebellion against God, it’s the place of chaos and unrest and war. God, it is saying, is bringing an end to all that is wrong. God is bringing devastation to the devastators; he is crushing cruelty; he is wrecking warfare.
It’s an invitation to look at human history through a different lens. For a fleeting moment, some tyrant might seem to us overwhelmingly powerful. Some earthly kingdom might seem invincible, some human philosophy unstoppable. But every time, the outcome ultimately is the same: in but a moment the tyrant falls; today’s great ones become tomorrow’s worm food; mighty empires become historical footnotes.
Those who originally sang this Psalm might have remembered the moment when the seemingly invincible army of Assyria surrounded the city of God with 185000 soldiers and their leader taunted those in the city saying, “Don’t trust in the Lord. He won’t deliver you.” Yet on the next day we are told “when people arose early in the morning, behold, these were all dead bodies.” 185000 Assyrian soldiers had been killed by the angel of God. That’s what God does. He brings an end to everything that seeks to rise up against him and his righteousness.
And it’s not just at the human level. On the cross Jesus, our king, devastated Satan himself. And every time now when the gospel is preached and people turn to Christ, evil continues to be crushed. And one day, our King will come again and all will recognize that he is Lord, that God alone is God. And so, it says, Come and see the works of the Lord who brings devastation on the earth.
When we look at the news day after day, we can often feel like the world is entirely up for grabs and there’s no predicting what will happen and who will win. But we who belong to the city of God are invited to come and see the truth: every wrongdoer, every evil, every bit of injustice, will crumble. And in the end one voice will ring out to all who oppose God, “Stop fighting, stop rebelling and know that I, not you, are God. I alone am above all else.” And all will be made right.
See, because the future is secure, we don’t need to be afraid.
See the Help That Comes at Dawn
And yet, we still feel fear. Because while it’s a comfort to know where it’s all going at a big picture level, what really weighs on us frankly is the small picture—our own stories in the present moment. Tomorrow it might all be right for the world, but today, the evil feels great in our own lives, the chaos insurmountable, and we feel constantly in danger. And if we’re honest, sometimes it seems like in certain moment the God who’s supposed to be our fortress is nowhere to be found for us.
And this brings us to the second truth we are invited to see. Verse 5, “God is within his city; she will not be toppled. God will help her when the morning dawns.”
In just a couple of hours our family will be heading out on a road trip to visit my family in Massachusetts, and we’ll be driving through the night. If you’ve ever driven through the night, you’ll know that it can feel for a time like the darkness just won’t end. When you’re in the middle of nowhere at 3AM, there is no visible sign, no indication that makes you feel like morning is coming. And yet you know, despite how it might feel that the sun will rise.
When it says here “God will help her when the morning dawns,” it intends to remind us of a moment in Exodus when everything seemed hopeless for God’s people. Having left Egypt, they were up against the Red Sea and in the distance they discovered that the entire terrifying army of Egypt was now coming to slaughter them. There was no visible way out in that moment from catastrophe—all seemed dark without any hint of light.
But then, as it were, the sun rose. God opened a pathway through the very sea itself that Israel could walk along. When they got to the other side with the Egyptian army continuing to follow them, it says in Exodus “when the morning dawned, the sea returned, and the Lord covered the Egyptian army with the sea.”
God does not promise to protect us from experiencing frightening situations. We will, as the Psalm explicitly reminds us, experience times of trouble. Neither does God promise to shield us from all suffering. But he does promise to be there in the moment of need and bring you through these troubles: “God is within his city, she—that is, we, will not be toppled.” However things might feel, if God is your refuge, he will bring you through even the darkest of moments, even death itself, into the beautiful future he has planned for you. Like the resurrection of Christ, God’s help will come like the dawn of the morning. This is what we are promised: “He watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven; in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.
Because of this, we don’t need to be afraid.
See the River
And yet, we still feel fear. Because really, what we’re saying is that in this world even we who live in God’s city, we who have made God our refuge, will endure suffering. The Bible is quite honest about this. So, yes, maybe we can know that our lives will have a happy ending, but how can we not be afraid if in the meantime we will be often miserable?
This brings us to the third image we are meant to see: for us to be without fear, we need also to see that there’s a river.
“There is a river,” verse 4 says. One of the greatest dangers ancient cities faced was being besieged by enemies, so that it would be starved by being cut off from water and nourishment. But if a city had a river, that would give it the food and drink it needed to last, no matter how grim the situation might be.
Now one of the interesting things about this Psalm is that Jerusalem did not have any kind of river near it. So when the Psalmist is saying these things, he is inviting people to see something not visible to human eyes. “You might not see it,” he is saying, “But for Zion, for the real city of God, there is a river, and that river brings delight to the city.” And for those reading it wondering, “Wait, what are you talking about?” he goes on to say, “God is within her.” God is that river. In God’s city, where God is the refuge, God is also the river who will nourish and sustain and bring joy to his people even when they are under siege by the enemy.
Jesus was talking about something very similar when he said, “Whoever believes in me, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.” He was speaking about the Holy Spirit. “If you believe in me as king, if through me you make God your refuge, you will find a river.” It’s a river that makes it so that even when you are utterly besieged by suffering, even still, you can rejoice.
The Apostle Paul’s life was a difficult one. He was imprisoned, beaten, falsely accused and slandered. And he wasn’t stoic about it: he speaks to the Corinthian church of an experience of being so overwhelmed by afflictions such that he despaired of life itself. Yet in the same letter here’s how he describes himself, “I am sorrowful,” he says, “yet always rejoicing.” I am sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.
He’s saying that there is a river in the city of God, so that even in times of grief; in times of loss, there is deep joy. As we grow in our faith, we come to discover that there is a joy that goes deeper than any grief, a joy in the knowledge that God is with us, the knowledge that God overflows with love to us as a Father for his children, the confident hope that no matter what God will never leave or forsake us. This is not just Paul’s experience—many of you have told me of times when the very worst imaginable thing happened; when you experience great loss, such as in the death of a loved one, and the grief seems unbearable—and yet, you have said, in those moments filled with tears you have also over time discovered a peace, a strength, even a kind of joy, because the God who loves you was with you to comfort and strengthen you.
There is a river for those who live in the city of God; there is for us the presence of God who by his Spirit will groan with us in our groaning and at the very same time gives us hope. And because of that river, because this is what is given to those whose God is their refuge, even in the midst of grief, we don’t need to be afraid.
Do you desire to move from fearfulness to confidence? This Psalm calls us to take two steps. First, you need to let go of your attempts to control and to be in charge. As long as we think we need to be in control, we will always be afraid, for deep down we’ll know that it’s impossible. This is not the role we were ever meant to have. “Stop fighting and know that I am God—I alone will be exalted.”
And then second, take refuge in the city of God, find your safety and joy in Christ. Come and see. Pay attention to the devastation that is coming to all that is wrong. Look for the help that comes in the morning. See the river. Make these words yours: “God is our refuge and strength, a helper who is always found in times of trouble. Therefore, we will not be afraid.”