Responding to Terror in Barcelona

Nick Seders
Aug 22, 2017 · 8 min read

I left our apartment Friday morning, following an evening in front of my laptop, taking in the shocking news that our city had been attacked. In search of a much needed café con leche, I joined a sparse crowd of residents on the beautiful sidewalks of our barrio, l’Eixample. As expected, those sidewalks had been emptied of the vivacity that characterizes Barcelona — replaced with expressionless faces and hushed voices.

My city in shock. My neighbors struggling to process the tragedy.

I, too, was unsure how to respond. I, too, felt overwhelmed and astonished.

I prayed that morning, on my way home from the only cafetería that found enough strength to open its doors, that I would be able to come to terms with this tragedy, and that I might help others do the same.

I found myself reading the book of Psalms on Saturday evening, as I had done in the midst of many chaotic moments. From a literary perspective, the emotion and poetic expression of the Psalms have always moved me to response; the hymns help me put words t0 my own thoughts and feelings. From a spiritual perspective, I have always found hope and comfort in them.

After revisiting some of my favorites, I came to Psalm 46.

God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.

The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Come and see what the Lord has done,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
He makes wars cease
to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the shields with fire.
He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”

The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

I read it, re-read it, and read it again. Suddenly, I knew what response was necessary.

You see, if ever a group of people understood instability or danger, it was the ancient Israelites. They had every reason to fear, residing between such powerful nations as Egypt and Assyria, warding off Philistine and Ammonite forces. Throughout the biblical narrative, Israel always seems to be confronting an invading army.

Yet the songwriters claimed safety and strength in God. Even if the world seemed to be falling apart (notice the imagery: earth giving way and mountains falling into the sea), the songwriters were able to lead their people in declarations of unshakeable confidence.

“How could they do that?” I asked. “Where does this confidence come from? I need to know, because I need to have it!”

I read the psalm over and over again, trying to comprehend it more fully with each reading. As I did, verses 8–9 grabbed my attention each time.

Come and see what the Lord has done,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
He makes wars cease
to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the shields with fire.

As I pondered and prayed through these verses, the possibility of such a confidence became clear. “Come and see what the Lord has done,” had to be the key phrase. The songwriters could claim such peace and strength, because they and their ancestors had witnessed the Lord’s unfailing protection.

As they sang Psalm 46, they must’ve remembered the Exodus. Visualizing an Egyptian army in pursuit, a crowd of Hebrews trapped against the seashore, and the faithful God standing between the two, while the water parted before them. They must’ve remembered the era of the Judges, like Gideon. They pictured a brave band of 300 men, which frightened an encampment of Midianites with nothing more than the sound of their voices and some broken pottery.

The Lord ensured peace and security in their crises. He was there for them every single time they needed him! He proved to be an ever-present help for his people, which gave them unshakable confidence and enduring hope. Israel must have found strength in the simple knowledge that God is mighty enough to save those that place their faith in him.

And so they sang, “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.” (Psalm 20:7) After all, they had seen weapons of war from mighty kingdoms prove ineffective against an almighty God. So rather than counting on troops and chariots, they trusted in the one who had shielded them from those very things.

The concept of trust suddenly appeared central to Psalm 46. The word refuge in verse 1 could have been translated as “a place of trust.” Israel knew God as a person to whom they could run, or a presence in which they could find peace; he was their safe haven, their shelter. When I came to verse 7 once again, fortress provided fresh insight into that safe haven, as I learned that the word is alternatively translated as “high place, secure height, retreat, etc.” So not only does he provide shelter — his shelter is located securely in the heights. He’s like a mountain stronghold to which his people people can retreat, to rise above the chaos and assess the situation from his position.

So what, though? What kept me from saying, “Good for ancient Israel, but I’m an American living in twenty-first century Barcelona”? It was the understanding that I, too, could seek refuge in him; in fact, I think the comfort we can find today is even greater than that of the historical context referred to above.

I turned to verses 4–5 one more time:

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.

Of course, the immediate context of this passage is Jerusalem as the city of God; Israel was his people. However, there came a moment in history when “people of God” no longer refered solely to Israel, when “city of God” no longer referred to a particular collection of streets and buildings.

The work of Jesus Christ (God incarnate, who died and resurrected to restore mankind to himself) provided shelter and refuge to all who would trust him. His redeeming, saving work makes new life accessible to anyone who would have faith in him.

Most importantly, I remembered that the cross and the empty tomb have restored me to God. His sacrifice has saved me, and given me an eternal, unshakeable hope. This in turn provides strength and confidence, here and now, in the midst of chaos — for if he has already overcome death and sin, what do I have to fear? He has done the impossible, and my eternity is secure in his hands. Not even death itself can separate me from life in him! That is the strength and refuge found in God; that is how the words of Psalm 46 put expression to my emotions this past weekend.

You notice I’m not starting an argument about the problem of evil or the reality of God; while that’s not a discussion that I shy away from, it’s not the discussion my friends and neighbors needed this weekend either. Nor am I explaining the mechanics of peace and strength in Christ, because I’m not the one offering these things to you. God is. What I’m saying is, “If you want to find peace and strength in the midst of tragedy, go to him!”

How do we do that? How do we retreat to that fortress (beyond the prerequisite of faith in Jesus)?

I found the answer in verse 10:

He says, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Unfortunately, that was not my initial response to Thursday’s attack on La Rambla. Quite the contrary, my mind starting running 100 kilometers per minute immediately — thinking of ministerial needs, imagining consequences, brainstorming outreaches.

Yet as I re-read verse 10 in various translations, which rendered the first phrase as “Stop fighting!” and “Cease striving,” it’s as if God was shouting, “Just stop! Stop allowing yourself to be part of the chaos. Know who I am, remember what I have done, and consider your situation from my perspective. Know that I hold your life in my hand. Know that I am faithful.”

I decided to silence my messages, turn off the news feeds, and play a psalm of my own. As I began singing to the one who has rescued my soul, I wept. It was like finding a fortress in the midst of a pursuit, opening its gate, closing it behind me, and taking a deep breath as the weight of worry and fear was thrown off. It wasn’t grief, but profound relief. Not anxiety, but security.

“If anyone is able to provide comfort and strength, it’s he who has already done the impossible,” I thought. Moreover, I knew it to be true, because I recalled that he had never abandoned me in grief or terror before. Financial turmoil, cancer diagnoses for friends and family, miscarriage — he has provided refuge through them all.

It’s not that there hasn’t been tragedy or that there won’t be more. In fact, he assures just the opposite (John 16:33). I can, however, testify that Jesus has always proven himself more powerful than tragedy.

Suddenly, while weeping on my knees, I knew what would come next:

“I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”

What originally seemed to be a selfish and misplaced statement on God’s part, became a necessary consequence of this newfound strength and confidence. I knew that I had to tell others what I had found in him. I realized that my testimony would only verify his reputation of faithfulness. When shared with Catalans, Italians, Canadians, Chileans, Ukrainians, Pakistanis, Americans, and Morrocans, his named would be exalted among the nations even in my own life!

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.
(2 Corinthians 1:3–5)

More than 100 people were killed or injured in this attack. A city of 1.6 million has been stunned. Barcelona needs to be pastored. My friends and neighbors need to know of the comfort and the strength that I have found in Christ. That must be my response to this tragedy. That must be the Church’s response to this tragedy.

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Nick Seders

Written by

Nick is currently in Northern Colorado, trying to dedicate as much free time to writing as possible. Professional writer? Nope. Fan of words? Definitely.

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