A Sermon Delivered on November 23, 2025 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.
This morning, I am building my thoughts around creating sacred pauses in a noisy season. To help me do that, we are going to be looking at scriptural poetry. Poetry is all about rhythm and rhyme, cadences of words, and pauses. Today we are going to look at those pauses and those pauses in poetry have a name: it’s called a caesura.
A caesura is a purposeful metrical break in poetry or music that pauses the sound to draw attention to the piece by way of a pause. Usually noted with two vertical parallel lines drawn at the location of the pause or interruption, a caesura is the natural end to a poetic or metrical phrase, especially when the phrase ends in the middle of a line of poetry. The word “caesura” comes from the Latin caedere which means “to cut”.[1] For example, listen for it in Hamlet’s famous line, “To be || or not to be || that is the question.”
Hebrew poetry and music also used caesura in their writing lyrical or metrical rhyme. We experience it in this morning’s scripture from Psalm 46. Open your Bible or pew Bible and let me show it to you.
Psalm 46 (NRSV)
1 God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change,
though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;
3 though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble with its tumult. Selah
4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy habitation of the Most High.
5 God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved;
God will help it when the morning dawns.
6 The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter;
he utters his voice, the earth melts.
7 The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah
8 Come, behold the works of the Lord;
see what desolations he has brought on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear;
he burns the shields with fire.
10 “Be still, and know that I am God!
I am exalted among the nations,
I am exalted in the earth.”
11 The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah
Today is Christ the King Sunday, the final Sunday of the Christian year. It’s the day we arrive at the culmination of the story we’ve been walking through since last Advent.
We began last November preparing our hearts for God’s inbreaking on Christmas. We moved into Epiphany, when people finally began to understand who Jesus really is. Then we made that long Lenten journey with him toward the cross, toward sacrifice, toward the redemption of God’s people.
The darkness of Lent gave way to the brilliant light of Easter. We celebrated the risen Christ, and weeks later we celebrated the Spirit’s fire on Pentecost, the Church’s birthday.
We trudged all summer long in what is called Ordinary Time as we reflected on what it means to live as God’s people in the world. And today we full circle in on this sacred drama with the declaration that this child of Mary, who was crucified, has risen, and ascended to heaven now reigns Sovereign over all creation. Christ holds the whole world in his hands.
And the people say, Selah!
“Selah?” you may be thinking. Hold onto that as we’re coming back to it.
Psalm 46 is a text many of us know even if we aren’t sure where we heard it. Martin Luther used it as the foundation of A Mighty Fortress Is Our God. This psalm contains that beloved line that has comforted countless souls: Be still, and know that I am God.
So, what did this psalm mean for ancient Israel and what does it mean for us today?
The psalm begins with a declaration which is at the very heart of Israel’s faith: God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Everything that follows grows out of this truth.
Verses 2 and 3 paint a picture of unimaginable environmental upheaval like mountains shaking and seas roaring. To ancient ears, this wasn’t just poetic language. Mountains were understood as the pillars that held up the heavens. If the pillars fell, everything fell. The sea symbolized chaos, danger, and the unknown. So, the psalmist is describing the unthinkable when creation itself appears to be becoming undone. It reads almost like the imagery from the book of Revelation.
At the end of verse 3 you’ll see a small, mysterious word: Selah. It appears 71 times in the psalms. We don’t know exactly what it means, but most scholars believe it’s a caesura: An intentional hard stop to take a pause.[2]
It’s a sacred rest. A moment to breathe. A space to let the truth sink in. And what truth is that? That no matter what shakes, rattles and rolls us around from Mother Nature, God is, was, and ever shall be our refuge and strength.
Stop a moment. Reflect on what verses 1–3 mean to you in your life right now.
1 God is my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.2
2 Therefore I will not fear,[3] though the earth should change,
though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;
3 though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble with its tumult. Selah
Verses 4 and 5 shift the imagery. Instead of roaring seas, we see a gentle river flowing from the city of God; it is a symbol of God’s refreshing, life-giving presence. Even if the world outside Jerusalem trembles, Zion, the people of God, will not be moved because God is in her midst.
Verses 6 and 7 widen the lens: nations in uproar, kingdoms tottering, political powers rising and falling, and Constitutions bring ignored or threatened. Yet over all of it stands this assurance: The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. And again, there is that word: Selah.
Another holy pause. A pause that whispers, “Remember, the nations may rage, but they are not in charge of the world’s destiny. God is.”
Our world is mired in international and political swirliness now. Pause and reflect how verses 4–7 apply to how you’re feeling about all that is in our news cycle.
4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy habitation of the Most High.
5 God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved;
God will help it when the morning dawns.
6 The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter;
he utters his voice, the earth melts.
7 The Lord of hosts is with me;
the God of Jacob is my refuge. Selah
The final section of the psalm does two things. First, verses 8 and 9 remind us that God is sovereign over all history — over wars and rulers and the fragile structures we build to protect ourselves. God breaks the bow, shatters the spear, burns the shields. Then comes verse 10, the only line set in quotation marks, as God in Godself speaks directly:
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
This is more than an invitation to peaceful meditation. In Hebrew, it is a command, a direct imperative. Think of it as a holy cease-and-desist order. “Drop what you’re clinging to. Stop struggling! Lay down your weapons, your fear, your frantic activity. Know who is truly God.”
The words are written for Israel reminding them who holds them through every storm. And they are written for the rulers and nations both to remind them and command them to recognize God’s authority.
Take a breath. Listen to verses 8 through 11 and apply them to where you are this morning.
8 Come, behold the works of the Lord;
see what desolations he has brought on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear;
he burns the shields with fire.
10 “Be still, and know that I am God!
I am exalted among the nations,
I am exalted in the earth.”
11 The Lord of hosts is with me;
the God of Jacob is my refuge. Selah
Beloved, as we step into what we call “the holidays,” we are confronted with two very different paths.
The first is the cultural path; it’s the rushed, noisy world of buying and cooking and traveling and stressing, where our worth seems tied to how much we accomplish and consume.
The second is the path of the Church’s holy days which invite us to walk slowly, thoughtfully, prayerfully into Advent. This path asks us to pay attention to little things, to breathe deeply, to watch for God’s presence breaking into our ordinary days.
My prayer for all of us this week is that we carve out Selah moments, those sacred pauses in our days to remember what God has done, what God is doing, and what God promises still to do.
For those for whom the holidays are hard, may your Selah moments hold space for comfort and healing. For those who love this season, may your Selah moments overflow with gratitude. And for all of us, may we find moments to “be still,” to cease our worrying and striving long enough to hear the heartbeat of God. Amen.
© 2025 A sermon preached by Patrick H. Wrisley, Pastor, First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, 8 West Notre Dame Street, Glens Falls, NY 12801. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, New York and shall not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission. All rights reserved.
[1] See https://www.poetryfoundation.org/education/glossary/caesura.
[2] Jason Soroski, What Does Selah Mean in the Bible and Why Is it Important? Updated August 12, 2025. Accessed at https://www.crosswalk.com/faith/bible-study/what-does-selah-mean.html#google_vignette on November 20, 2025.
[3] In this and the following psalm stanzas, I have changed the tense from third person to first person for rhetorical emphasis.
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