A Rock That Does Not Move
“For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you.” – Isaiah 54:10
Life constantly changes. Jobs fluctuate. People come and go. Bodies age. The phone rings and a diagnosis rearranges the future in a single sentence. We have to adjust yet again. For anyone carrying trauma, this instability is exhausting. A nervous system already trained to scan for danger interprets every change as one more reason it cannot rest.
We were not made to remain permanently on guard for every one of life’s variations. We were made for constancy – for a love that does not move.
When God first revealed His character to Israel, He chose two words: hesed and emet – “steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6). The Catechism teaches that because of these riches, we can abandon ourselves entirely to the truth and faithfulness of His word (CCC 214).
“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Hebrews 13:8). God’s love is everlasting. Even when others change their mind about you, God does not. The love He held toward you yesterday is the same love that holds you today and will hold you tomorrow.
In His everlasting, constant love, we find stability and security. That is why God is repeatedly compared to a rock in the Psalms, a book of prayers: “The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer, my God in whom I take refuge” (Psalm 18:2).
Like a rock, God does not move; His support does not waver. He can be leaned on without warning – in the dark, with your full weight. He remains present in both the joyful and sorrowful mysteries of our lives.
When the ground has given way before
Sometimes it is hard to trust this stability. Through trauma, the body has learned that the ground can give way without warning. That people who should have been safe sometimes were not. That the place that should have felt like home was sometimes the scariest place to be. That a whole world can collapse in the blink of an eye.
Our nervous systems learned to be ready, to scan, to brace.
Even though God is ready and eager for us to lean on Him with our full weight, we can find ourselves unwilling or unable to trust Him. Hope lies in the same place where the wound began: the body.
Just as the body learned to expect danger, it can slowly learn to expect safety.
Despite the ever-changing nature of the world, we can grow in confidence in the Ever-Present One who wants us to feel safe and loved – God.
Dr. Bob Schuchts of the John Paul II Healing Center teaches that the deepest healing comes when the soul learns to feel safe not just with Jesus, but with the Father. Attachment researchers describe this as a secure base: a “stronger, wiser other” to whom we can return when the world feels overwhelming. The Catholic tradition teaches that there is no stronger or wiser One than God Himself.
Leaning on the Lord for safety and trust is necessary for deep healing. Healing is not the inhibition of life’s changes, but the discovery of a layer beneath the change that does not move. Discovering Christ’s constant love – independent of our performance, mood, or the morning news – allows the nervous system to begin to soften. In that stability, we find safety. In safety, we can begin to relax.
Over time, this stability does not just surround us; it begins to live inside us.
the rock who knows our grief
This Rock is not a distant boulder on a hill. Christ does not stand outside our suffering and watch. He is not afraid of our emotions or grievances. The Catechism says that He “makes our miseries his own” (CCC 1505). Our Rock is the wounded, risen Body of Christ, who knows the inside of grief and still does not leave.
Let that sink in: He knows you. Not the mask that you put on with only the features you want others to see. He sees everything – the things you share and the secrets you keep hidden – and He loves you there.
Imagine Christ holding you the way a parent holds a crying child: no rush, no shame, only presence. That is the heart of the Rock who does not move.
When this begins to take root, life’s variability does not shake us in the same way, because our weight is resting on something deeper than circumstance. We grow in confidence that His love is not going anywhere and that, even when outcomes are uncertain, we are held.
So let us lean on Christ in our healing. Even when we are afraid of our emotions and desires, He is not. He is here to stay – not because He has to, but because He wants to. You are His child, and He loves you unconditionally.
Gentle Practices: Returning to the Rock
When the day becomes overwhelming – when the email, the memory, the emotion shakes the ground under your feet – try this:
