How Do You Stand Steady in a World That Won’t Stop Changing?

Above Normalcy: Meeting the Unchanging King

Photo by Chidy Young on Unsplash: The King of Kings would calls you His child. He means to stoop low. Will you receive it?

My wife is a strong leader—in our home, in her work, in every space God has placed her. When I’m down, which is rare, she switches into superhero mode.

I remember one day when sickness pressed me flat. My head throbbed, my chest was heavy, and I could barely string together a thought. She called me and said, “Why don’t I take the three littles and give you space to rest?”

I tried to reason with my congestion-fogged brain, but nothing came. Out came the only words I could manage: “Let’s just keep it how it is.”

It wasn’t defiance. It was longing. What I wanted wasn’t escape—it was normalcy. Rhythm. Balance.

The next day, I stood at the Fernbank Museum and watched forty middle schoolers snake their way through a line. They weren’t restless. They didn’t whine. They simply stood—shoulder to shoulder, chatting, waiting, almost at peace.

I marveled. Their young, spiked brains from lunch seemed to relax inside the order. Their wiring embraced the structure.

Two moments, side by side—a home filled with toddlers, a museum filled with teenagers—and they spoke the same truth: we are made for rhythm. We thrive in structure. We crave something steady, something unchanging.

But where do we find it?

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A Psalm That Opens Heaven

I read Psalm 102 aloud three times before bed and again the next morning. The words carried weight, like a voice beyond time. The psalm has no author attached, but the words sound like Jesus.

Here’s the movement of the chapter:

• Verses 1–11: A cry of frailty and suffering.

• Verses 12–17: A turn toward hope—God reigns forever and will have compassion on Zion.

• Verses 18–22: A call to record God’s saving acts so that future generations—even those not yet born—will praise Him.

• Verses 23–28: A breathtaking contrast between human frailty and God’s eternal nature.

And here’s the shocking find this morning: Hebrews 1:10-12 quotes Psalm 102:25-27 word for word. The writer of Hebrews takes these words originally spoken of Yahweh and applies them directly to Jesus.

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What That Means

1. Jesus is Yahweh
   Hebrews makes an audacious claim. The eternal, unchanging Creator who answered the cries of the afflicted in Psalm 102 is none other than Christ.

2. The God Who Stoops
   Psalm 102:19–20 says God looked down from heaven, heard the groans of prisoners, and released those condemned to death. Centuries later, Jesus declared in Luke 4:18: “He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners… to set the oppressed free.”
   The psalmist’s hope for Zion became flesh in Jesus. And the “future generation” of verse 18? That’s us.

3. The Eternal Perspective
   Hebrews shows us that creation itself will wear out, but Christ never will. And in Him, those who are born again share that eternal life. What Psalm 102 longed for finds its fulfillment in Jesus—He bridges the gap between our frailty and God’s forever reign.

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Never Finished Challenge: Above Normalcy

When you read Psalm 102, don’t just hear the words of a weary man. Hear the voice of Christ, the eternal Son, through whom all things were made. He entered our suffering. He holds unchanging power.

• Step into His Word. Read it. Obey it. Let it shape your daily rhythms of faithfulness.

• Let Him stoop to you. Take a fifteen-minute walk. Name aloud what weighs you down. Lay it at the cross. Watch the trees, hear the wind, thank Him for creation, and lift your voice in worship.

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What Does Today Say About God?

Unchanging.

That is who He is. The same yesterday, today, and forever. His nature never bends, never weakens, never drifts with the winds of culture or time.

And here’s the miracle: by the blood of Jesus, that unchanging God stoops down to meet us. Our shaky hands, our restless hearts, our inconsistent obedience are gathered by a King who kneels. A King who died. A King who calls us His beloved. And a King who will return.

This is the anchor in a world that shifts like sand. Not a system. Not a routine. A Person. The eternal Christ who holds all things together.

So when I feel the pull of change, I cling to Him.
When the world spins, I steady myself on His Word.
When my own nature falters, I remember—He does not.

What a King.
What a Father.
What a Friend.

Thank You, Jesus.

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