When the Mountain Shook and the City Stood Still

On June 15, 2022, residents of Christchurch, New Zealand felt the earth tremble beneath their feet — again. Over a decade after the devastating 2011 earthquake that leveled their cathedral and reshaped their skyline, the ground reminded them who was truly in charge. Seismologists measured it at 4.3 magnitude. Unremarkable by geological standards. Yet shops paused, children froze mid-step, and for seven seconds an entire city remembered that the ground they trusted was never really theirs to command.

The psalmist understood this visceral truth. "The mountains melt like wax before the Lord of all the earth." Not metaphor for metaphor's sake — this is theology written in tectonic plates and trembling soil. The Almighty who sets galaxies spinning is the same God before whom solid rock loses its nerve.

But here is what makes Psalm 97 extraordinary. It does not open with fear. It opens with joy. "The Lord reigns, let the earth be glad." The same sovereign power that liquefies mountains is wrapped in righteousness and justice. The God who makes Aoraki and the Southern Alps bow is not a tyrant — He is a Father whose authority means every wrong will be answered, every injustice addressed, every crooked thing straightened.

The ground beneath Christchurch shifted. The throne of the Most High never has.