His name was Richard. He had severe disabilities. Not as much physically as those brought on by his circumstances.

Richard (as I was to find out later) was born with normal intelligence, but with such profound deafness, being without inner-ear apparatus, he could not even feel vibrations properly. By the time I met him, he was in his late 20’s, and as a bus driver, I was picking him (and others with other various disabilities) and transporting all to a facility which was helping each learn to navigate the things in life most of us take for granted.

Richard, being born so completely deaf to parents who just plain had no idea what to do with such a child, just kept him in the house for the first 20 years or so of his life. He didn’t know how to tie his own shoes or much of anything else. Over time he developed a whole host of tics and odd behaviors. In his isolation, he declined further and further.

He was a big guy, over 6′ and well built. He squinted chronically. And if I didn’t arrive just on time to pick him up, he would scour the street for discarded cigarette butts and pack them in his upper and lower gums. Sometimes he would sort of shriek out loud. But he was never violent. However, one time he did stand up in the back of the bus, his hands pressed on the ceiling and began to rock the whole vehicle, to the delight of some and the terror of others of his fellow passengers.

I felt for this guy. If he had not been trapped in the house for decades, and deprived of useful interaction, he probably would have developed quite normally. His case worker bemoaned his condition as she shared it with me.

I wept.

One day, after dropping him off at the center, I sort of unloaded on the Lord. How could this be? How could this happen to an unsuspecting and (in earthly terms) innocent? I raged inwardly in my consternation. I prayed loudly, tearfully and in distress.

The Lord has big shoulders you know. He can take it. I had learned that from Job, David, Jonah and especially Habakkuk. So I went to Him with my distress and complaint.

In the silent aftermath, the words from the first line of Psalm 46:10 came to my mind. They came with such force that I began to sob: “Be still, and know that I am God.”

I would not receive the answers to my “why?” questions. But the Scripture did refocus me upon the more necessary “who?” question. My God. My sovereign God. My loving, all-wise God. My God.

And from that line in Ps. 46:10, I almost immediately scratched these lyrics, and set it to music later. I pray it may be a comfort to someone struggling today.

Click here for the audio: https://youtu.be/Hk-CxwWpF8k?si=o6XIvMDprrow-ENG

• To know His presence, is to know His perfect peace.

To fell Him near me, is to bid all care subside.

And when anxious fears, wet my eyes with tears,

His gentle voice rings sweetly through the din.

• Be still and know, that I am God

No foe can harm you not one hair upon your head.

And though the dark clouds rise, you’ve never left my eyes.

My child, be still, and know that I am God.