St. Louis is no stranger to shaking ground — literally and figuratively.
We live on the New Madrid and Wabash Valley seismic zones, fault lines that remind us that life gets shaken at unexpected times. Add to that the tremors of gun violence, poverty, eviction and a mental health crisis, and you don’t have to wait for an earthquake to feel the ground move.
And yet, Psalm 46 declares: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”
There are days when our city feels weary: Another child lost to gunfire, another hospital closure, another small business pushed out by rising rents, another Black family struggling to rebuild after a storm.
The good news is that while life is fickle, God is faithful. God is. Not “was,” not “will be.” God is constant. Presidents were, but God is. Mayors were, but God is. Empires rise and fall, but God is.
We celebrate strong men, strong women and strong machines. But God is stronger — stronger than the earthquakes that shake our foundations, stronger than tornadoes that tear through our neighborhoods and stronger than systems that try to break our spirits.
In St. Louis, we’ve seen storms take roofs, pandemics take lives and policies take hope. But our ancestors taught us how to stand when the world shakes. They showed us how to build again and how to believe again.
Scripture reminds us: “The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter; but God utters His voice — the earth melts.” Empires have come and gone — Assyria, Babylon, Rome. And yet the same God who outlasted them still sustains us. That sustenance endures through political division, cultural decay and the weight of racial inequity. We are called to remember that our hope doesn’t come from City Hall or Capitol Hill. It comes from the hill called Calvary.
When you see God’s strength at work, say something. Say something when a teacher holds on for one more semester. Say something when a grandmother raises another generation. Say something when a community cleans up its own block — say something.
“Come, behold the works of the Lord,” the Psalmist says. If you’ve seen God’s hand, tell it. St. Louis needs to hear it. St. Louis needs to see the light, even in dark times.
In a time when noise is everywhere — protests, politics and posts — sometimes the most radical act is to be still. To pause. To breathe. To remember that the rock doesn’t move. The rock is Jesus.
So, when the next storm comes — financial, emotional or literal — say, “God is stronger.” Say it with conviction, with your chest. God is stronger than your diagnosis, stronger than your debt and stronger than your despair. A mighty fortress is our God. And St. Louis, that means we still have reason to hope.
Selah.
The Rev. Dr. Anthony L. Riley is senior pastor of the historic Central Baptist Church of St. Louis — the second oldest Black church in St. Louis.