When the Mountain Shakes
“As for me, I said in my prosperity, ‘I shall never be moved.’ By your favor, O LORD, you made my mountain stand strong; you hid your face, and I was dismayed.” Psalm 30:6–7
David had reached the peak. Health, victory, security—everything felt solid. In that moment of ease he declared, “I shall never be moved.” Notice who he credited at first: no one. The pronoun is “I.” The mountain felt like his own achievement. Then, almost in the same breath, he remembers the truth: “By your favor, O LORD, you made my mountain stand strong.” It was never his strength; it was God’s smile resting on him.
And then, without warning, the smile seemed to vanish. God “hid His face,” and the mountain trembled. The man who felt invincible was suddenly dismayed—panicked, disoriented, terrified. One moment everything was unshakable; the next moment everything shook.
Why would a good God do that? Because sometimes the greatest danger to our souls is an unshaken life. When the job is secure, the body is strong, the family is healthy, and the future looks bright, we easily begin to trust the mountain instead of the One who set it in place. Prosperity whispers, “You’ve got this.” And slowly, subtly, the gift replaces the Giver.
“We are never in greater danger than in the sunshine of prosperity,” wrote one old Puritan. “To be always indulged of God, and never to taste of trouble, is rather a token of God’s neglect than of his tender love.” (Struther)
G. Campbell Morgan put it even more sharply: “Self-satisfaction cannot praise Jehovah. Therefore it must be corrected by discipline.”
So God, in mercy, hides His face—not because He has abandoned us, but because He refuses to share His glory with a substitute. He shakes what can be shaken so that what cannot be shaken might remain (Hebrews 12:27). The storm is not a sign of His absence; it is the evidence of His jealous love.
I’ve lived this. During my cancer fight I begged, “Lord, where are You?” The silence felt deafening. Treatments, fear, weakness—my mountain crumbled. Yet in those lonely hours I discovered what David discovered: when God hides His face for a season, it is to teach us that His face is the only thing that ever made the mountain stand in the first place.
That’s why the old song by Andraé Crouch still rings true:
That’s the very lesson David learned. Whatever has been taken from you, whatever has broken you and left you convinced that life can never again have meaning—that thing was functioning as your god. And a loving Father will not let any rival sit on His throne in your heart.
He is enough when the diagnosis is bad. He is enough when the relationship ends. He is enough when the dream dies. He is enough when the face of God feels hidden and the night feels endless.
You will not truly know that Jesus is all you need until Jesus is all you have. And when He becomes all you have, you discover at last that He is all you ever needed.
Look how the psalm ends:
Notice the purpose clause: God rescued and restored him “that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.” The entire point of the deliverance was ongoing, loud, lifelong thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving is the guardrail that keeps the delivered heart from drifting right back into pride and idolatry. When we refuse to give thanks—when we treat God’s blessings as our entitlement—we begin the exact slide Paul describes in Romans 1:22-23: “Although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him… and they exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images…”
Ingratitude is the first step toward spiritual and moral decay because it blinds us to the Giver and turns every gift into a god. A thankful heart, on the other hand, keeps saying, “The mountain stands only by Your favor.” Thanksgiving keeps us humble in prosperity and hopeful in adversity. It is the song that never lets us forget who our true sufficiency is.
“Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning” Psalm 30:5
The face that was hidden will shine again. The mountain will stand. And this time we will know, deep in our bones, that it never stood because of us. It stood—and it stands—only because His favor rests on us. Forever.
David had reached the peak. Health, victory, security—everything felt solid. In that moment of ease he declared, “I shall never be moved.” Notice who he credited at first: no one. The pronoun is “I.” The mountain felt like his own achievement. Then, almost in the same breath, he remembers the truth: “By your favor, O LORD, you made my mountain stand strong.” It was never his strength; it was God’s smile resting on him.
And then, without warning, the smile seemed to vanish. God “hid His face,” and the mountain trembled. The man who felt invincible was suddenly dismayed—panicked, disoriented, terrified. One moment everything was unshakable; the next moment everything shook.
Why would a good God do that? Because sometimes the greatest danger to our souls is an unshaken life. When the job is secure, the body is strong, the family is healthy, and the future looks bright, we easily begin to trust the mountain instead of the One who set it in place. Prosperity whispers, “You’ve got this.” And slowly, subtly, the gift replaces the Giver.
“We are never in greater danger than in the sunshine of prosperity,” wrote one old Puritan. “To be always indulged of God, and never to taste of trouble, is rather a token of God’s neglect than of his tender love.” (Struther)
G. Campbell Morgan put it even more sharply: “Self-satisfaction cannot praise Jehovah. Therefore it must be corrected by discipline.”
So God, in mercy, hides His face—not because He has abandoned us, but because He refuses to share His glory with a substitute. He shakes what can be shaken so that what cannot be shaken might remain (Hebrews 12:27). The storm is not a sign of His absence; it is the evidence of His jealous love.
I’ve lived this. During my cancer fight I begged, “Lord, where are You?” The silence felt deafening. Treatments, fear, weakness—my mountain crumbled. Yet in those lonely hours I discovered what David discovered: when God hides His face for a season, it is to teach us that His face is the only thing that ever made the mountain stand in the first place.
That’s why the old song by Andraé Crouch still rings true:
I thank God for the mountains,
And I thank Him for the valleys,
And I thank Him for the storms He’s brought me through.
For if I’d never had a problem,
I wouldn’t know that God could solve them—
I’d never know what faith in God could do.
And I thank Him for the valleys,
And I thank Him for the storms He’s brought me through.
For if I’d never had a problem,
I wouldn’t know that God could solve them—
I’d never know what faith in God could do.
That’s the very lesson David learned. Whatever has been taken from you, whatever has broken you and left you convinced that life can never again have meaning—that thing was functioning as your god. And a loving Father will not let any rival sit on His throne in your heart.
He is enough when the diagnosis is bad. He is enough when the relationship ends. He is enough when the dream dies. He is enough when the face of God feels hidden and the night feels endless.
You will not truly know that Jesus is all you need until Jesus is all you have. And when He becomes all you have, you discover at last that He is all you ever needed.
Look how the psalm ends:
“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,
that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.
O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever!”
you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,
that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.
O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever!”
Psalm 30:11–12
Notice the purpose clause: God rescued and restored him “that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.” The entire point of the deliverance was ongoing, loud, lifelong thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving is the guardrail that keeps the delivered heart from drifting right back into pride and idolatry. When we refuse to give thanks—when we treat God’s blessings as our entitlement—we begin the exact slide Paul describes in Romans 1:22-23: “Although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him… and they exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images…”
Ingratitude is the first step toward spiritual and moral decay because it blinds us to the Giver and turns every gift into a god. A thankful heart, on the other hand, keeps saying, “The mountain stands only by Your favor.” Thanksgiving keeps us humble in prosperity and hopeful in adversity. It is the song that never lets us forget who our true sufficiency is.
“Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning” Psalm 30:5
The face that was hidden will shine again. The mountain will stand. And this time we will know, deep in our bones, that it never stood because of us. It stood—and it stands—only because His favor rests on us. Forever.