I shall not be moved

I shall not, I shall not be moved.
I shall not, I shall not be moved.
Just like a tree planted by the water,
I shall not be moved.

Jesus is my captain, I shall not be moved.
King Jesus is my captain, I shall not be moved.
Just like a tree planted by the water,
I shall not be moved.

Sanctified and holy, I shall not be moved.
Sanctified and holy, I shall not be moved.
Just like a tree planted by the water,
I shall not be moved.

I am living holy, I shall not be moved.
I am living holy, I shall not be moved.
Just like a tree planted by the water,
I shall not be moved.

I shall not, I shall not be moved.
I shall not, I shall not be moved.
Just like a tree planted by the water,
I shall not be moved.

On my way to Heaven, I shall not be moved.
On my way to Heaven, I shall not be moved.
Just like a tree planted by the water,
I shall not be moved.

These are the lyrics of an old African American spiritual song. I learned it many years ago and once sang it in a class with the late American blues singer and guitarist John Jackson. As long as I have any memory, that moment and that song will hold a special place in my heart.

We’ve been cleaning up from a huge storm here in Northern Virginia. For days, the wind was roaring and rain pouring. One of my favorite places, only about 10 miles from my house, is Great Falls Park on the Potomac River. I often go there to walk and think and breathe. I knew I needed to get to the park as soon as I could after the storm to see the river. This morning trees and power lines were still down and roads were closed. I needed to figure out a rather circuitous route, but I know all the back roads so I got there. And the falls were more incredible than I imagined—so much water pouring through the river gorge that it filled the deep canyon usually visible in the river.

It was an especially great day to take photos. The photo above is one that took today. I was fascinated by the scrawny little tree. Not only was it growing out of what appears to be solid rock, but it is now on an island, surrounded by fierce churning water. And I began singing to myself, “I shall not, I shall not be moved. Just like a tree planted by the water, I shall not be moved.”

I want that tree to stand firm. I want it to stay on its rock. I feel like I'm that tree, roots dug in, hanging on for dear life, surrounded by chaos and trouble. It’s not a pretty tree but it’s beautiful in its strength, in its ability to survive. Oh, Lord, help me, keep me firm. I shall not be moved.