January 29th, 2026
by Aramis D. Hinds, Sr.
by Aramis D. Hinds, Sr.
Stillness (Raphah): When Faith Puts It Down
We’re on Day 4 of our 14-Day Fast, and today’s focus—and reading—is “Stillness.” It starts us right where God often starts when He wants to recalibrate a soul: not with a to-do list, but with a command that cuts through noise.
“Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)
Most of us hear that verse like a gentle suggestion—calm down, breathe, try to feel peaceful. But after reading it, something in my spirit wouldn’t let me treat it like a "heartwarming" moment of serenity. I felt pushed to slow down and look closer, because sometimes what we call “stillness” is really just a dressed-up form of avoidance. And sometimes what God calls “stillness” is a decisive act of surrender.
In Psalm 46:10, the Hebrew word translated “be still” is רָפָה (raphah). It isn’t a noun, and it isn’t a mood. It’s a verb—and in this verse, it’s used as an imperative, a direct command.
That means Psalm 46:10 isn’t mainly telling you what to feel. It’s telling you what to do.
Raphah carries the sense of letting go, releasing, ceasing, loosening your grip.
So the verse hits different when you hear it the way the word reads:
And if you need a picture of what that kind of surrender looks like, Scripture gives us one through Moses and the rod.
In Exodus 4, Moses is holding a staff—his rod. It’s familiar. Useful. It represents what he’s leaned on and carried through life. God asks him a simple question: “What is that in your hand?” Moses answers, “A staff.” (Exodus 4:2)
Then the Lord tells him something that doesn’t sound profound—it just sounds risky:
“Throw it on the ground.” (Exodus 4:3)
Moses obeys. He lays it down. He releases it. And immediately, the staff becomes a serpent. The text says Moses ran from it—the first time he lets go, what he was holding suddenly looks dangerous. (Exodus 4:3)
That moment exposes something in us: sometimes we hold on because we’re afraid of what will happen if we release it. We don’t just fear losing control—we fear what our “control” has been hiding. We fear what might surface when we finally put it down.
But God doesn’t leave Moses in fear. He commands him again:
“Reach out your hand and take it by the tail.” (Exodus 4:4)
Moses obeys again, and the snake becomes a staff again—only now it’s not just a tool. It’s a sign. God is teaching Moses, “What you surrender to Me, I can transform. What you release, I can redeem. What you stop gripping, I can repurpose.”
That’s the weight of Psalm 46:10.
Stillness, in the sense of raphah, isn’t collapse. It isn’t quitting. It isn’t denial. It’s the holy choice to stop acting like you’re the one holding the world together. There’s a difference between weakness and surrender.
Weakness says, “I can’t.”
Surrender says, “God can, and I will stop competing with Him for the steering wheel.”
And if you’re fasting with us, you already know how this works: fasting exposes what we lean on. It surfaces the places we self-medicate, self-protect, and self-manage. It reveals the invisible clenched fists—habits, anxieties, narratives, grudges, timelines, pressures—that we’ve been holding like they’re our job.
But here’s where the word study gets even more important, because there’s another Hebrew word that looks and sounds similar—and confusing them can blur what God is doing in this season.
רָפָה (raphah) means let go/cease/release.
רָפָא (rapha) means to heal—as in the language behind “The Lord who heals.”
So today, hear this plainly:
The healing we’re asking God to perform (rapha) is often waiting on the releasing we’re resisting (raphah).
We want God to heal what our grip keeps re-injuring. We want God to restore what our control keeps strangling. We want God to speak peace while we keep feeding panic with constant motion and constant management. God is not impressed by frantic strength, but He honors yielded faith.
So here’s today's invitation: don’t just “read about stillness.” Practice raphah.
Open your hands—literally, physically—because sometimes your body has to teach your soul what surrender feels like. Name the thing you’ve been trying to manage like you’re the Holy Spirit. Stop arguing with anxiety and start obeying God.
Because Psalm 46:10 ties two things together that we often separate: release and revelation.
Sometimes, knowledge of God doesn’t come through more effort; it comes through less resistance.
A prayer to "Raphah"
Father, today we choose stillness—not as a vibe, but as obedience. We raphah: we release the need to control, the pressure to perform, and the fear that we must carry what only You can handle. As we let go, let the knowledge of You rise in us—fresh, steady, unshakable. And as we release, bring rapha—healing to what has been strained, wounded, and weary. Teach us to rest without retreating, to be still without shutting down, and to trust without gripping. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
If you only take one line with you from today's reading, take this:
Stillness isn’t “calm down.” Stillness is “letting go.”
We’re on Day 4 of our 14-Day Fast, and today’s focus—and reading—is “Stillness.” It starts us right where God often starts when He wants to recalibrate a soul: not with a to-do list, but with a command that cuts through noise.
“Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)
Most of us hear that verse like a gentle suggestion—calm down, breathe, try to feel peaceful. But after reading it, something in my spirit wouldn’t let me treat it like a "heartwarming" moment of serenity. I felt pushed to slow down and look closer, because sometimes what we call “stillness” is really just a dressed-up form of avoidance. And sometimes what God calls “stillness” is a decisive act of surrender.
In Psalm 46:10, the Hebrew word translated “be still” is רָפָה (raphah). It isn’t a noun, and it isn’t a mood. It’s a verb—and in this verse, it’s used as an imperative, a direct command.
That means Psalm 46:10 isn’t mainly telling you what to feel. It’s telling you what to do.
Raphah carries the sense of letting go, releasing, ceasing, loosening your grip.
So the verse hits different when you hear it the way the word reads:
- Stop striving.
- Stop gripping.
- Stop forcing outcomes you were never built to carry.
And if you need a picture of what that kind of surrender looks like, Scripture gives us one through Moses and the rod.
In Exodus 4, Moses is holding a staff—his rod. It’s familiar. Useful. It represents what he’s leaned on and carried through life. God asks him a simple question: “What is that in your hand?” Moses answers, “A staff.” (Exodus 4:2)
Then the Lord tells him something that doesn’t sound profound—it just sounds risky:
“Throw it on the ground.” (Exodus 4:3)
Moses obeys. He lays it down. He releases it. And immediately, the staff becomes a serpent. The text says Moses ran from it—the first time he lets go, what he was holding suddenly looks dangerous. (Exodus 4:3)
That moment exposes something in us: sometimes we hold on because we’re afraid of what will happen if we release it. We don’t just fear losing control—we fear what our “control” has been hiding. We fear what might surface when we finally put it down.
But God doesn’t leave Moses in fear. He commands him again:
“Reach out your hand and take it by the tail.” (Exodus 4:4)
Moses obeys again, and the snake becomes a staff again—only now it’s not just a tool. It’s a sign. God is teaching Moses, “What you surrender to Me, I can transform. What you release, I can redeem. What you stop gripping, I can repurpose.”
That’s the weight of Psalm 46:10.
Stillness, in the sense of raphah, isn’t collapse. It isn’t quitting. It isn’t denial. It’s the holy choice to stop acting like you’re the one holding the world together. There’s a difference between weakness and surrender.
Weakness says, “I can’t.”
Surrender says, “God can, and I will stop competing with Him for the steering wheel.”
And if you’re fasting with us, you already know how this works: fasting exposes what we lean on. It surfaces the places we self-medicate, self-protect, and self-manage. It reveals the invisible clenched fists—habits, anxieties, narratives, grudges, timelines, pressures—that we’ve been holding like they’re our job.
But here’s where the word study gets even more important, because there’s another Hebrew word that looks and sounds similar—and confusing them can blur what God is doing in this season.
רָפָה (raphah) means let go/cease/release.
רָפָא (rapha) means to heal—as in the language behind “The Lord who heals.”
So today, hear this plainly:
The healing we’re asking God to perform (rapha) is often waiting on the releasing we’re resisting (raphah).
We want God to heal what our grip keeps re-injuring. We want God to restore what our control keeps strangling. We want God to speak peace while we keep feeding panic with constant motion and constant management. God is not impressed by frantic strength, but He honors yielded faith.
So here’s today's invitation: don’t just “read about stillness.” Practice raphah.
Open your hands—literally, physically—because sometimes your body has to teach your soul what surrender feels like. Name the thing you’ve been trying to manage like you’re the Holy Spirit. Stop arguing with anxiety and start obeying God.
Because Psalm 46:10 ties two things together that we often separate: release and revelation.
- “Be still…”
- …and then: “Know that I am God.”
Sometimes, knowledge of God doesn’t come through more effort; it comes through less resistance.
A prayer to "Raphah"
Father, today we choose stillness—not as a vibe, but as obedience. We raphah: we release the need to control, the pressure to perform, and the fear that we must carry what only You can handle. As we let go, let the knowledge of You rise in us—fresh, steady, unshakable. And as we release, bring rapha—healing to what has been strained, wounded, and weary. Teach us to rest without retreating, to be still without shutting down, and to trust without gripping. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
If you only take one line with you from today's reading, take this:
Stillness isn’t “calm down.” Stillness is “letting go.”
Aramis D. Hinds, Sr.
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11 Comments
This is an on time word. I feel like I’ve been holding on to so much that the ropes I carry have burned and torn me apart instead of actually keeping things in my control. Yesterday I prayed because I thought I was doing what I was supposed to. Keeping everyone and everything happy and safe, keeping my husband, keeping my job, my parents, my friends, and the list goes on. And framed it all as my responsibility, but it was my fear of things falling apart. I’m so thankful for this word because it makes sense out of what I couldn’t and is meant for me. I need to be still and let go so that GOD can heal and reveal to me what it is that’s keeping me in this place.
What a revelation! This brings so much practicality to that scripture. To Raphah is Rapha! Amen
This reading is a Blessing. The part where you say, “ sometimes what we call “stillness” is really just a dressed-up form of avoidance. And sometimes what God calls “stillness” is a decisive act of surrender.” My question to myself is Mashira what are you avoiding. The answer: Myself (a lot of uncomfortable painful truths). You stated that God asked Moses a simple question: What is in your hand? My answer: Myself Heart Abba. During this fast I’ve been learning, that I haven’t fully surrendered it, because I’m afraid of dangers and also because it is dangerous. My heart is dangerous. So this reading has encouraged me to fully loosen my grip, so God can truly heal, despite the fear of what that healing may look like ?.
This is spiritually DEEP, In the sense of understanding what we hold so tight to in such a controlling posture, It doesn't become a spiritual attribute with God's power until we releade that thing. That is done when we fully accept and fully trust God for all that He is , all that He has done and is doing now and what He will do forever more. We have to fully resist the world and freely walk with Him. Thank you Aramis, for always taking us deeper and not allowing us to wonder but to know. Not just appeasing ourselves but igniting a hunger for more of Him.
Amen
nThis blessed me!
nIt hurts more to hold on then it is to let go and at times I am not aware of how my counterfeit “safety” is really danger undercover. The lie is Letting go means I am not safe. It’s places me under stress that I don’t want. When I am not safe I get desperate in an unhealthy way ?.
nControl has been my way of survival for so long I don’t know how to just let go or I will let go and then pick it back up when I don’t feel safe. It’s something I have not wanted to give to God but it’s a must that I do so.
nI prayed about things related to this today this was definitely timely.
This is so on time for me to hear with the pressure and weight of what's going on in my life right now. Just simply having the courage to let go and believe God for what is on the other side even though I don't see it. I'm trying to carry and navigate what only He can handle. Asking Rapha to heal the weariness.
Wow, this is a great revelation for me! I oftentimes find myself forcing stillness saying, "I gotta be still and shut the noise off." But this has been on my terms, hearing it as a heartwarming gesture ?.
nTo learn that to be still (Raphah) is a direct command, to release and let go of my grip changes everything ?? I still fear of completely letting go like Moses and the staff. Thank you Lord for showing me myself and giving me the opportunity to get it right before You.
nLord I choose to let go of my control, my grip and release the things I keep holding on to because of comfort. I surrender to your will and ways. I choose stillness (Raphah) so that your (Rapha) can come ??
nThank you for sharing this revelation, it's definitely a paradigm shift, Hallelujah ??
This really slowed me down in the best way. The breakdown of raphah exposed how much of my “stillness” has actually been silent control. The part about release and healing felt personal — because I can see where I’ve been asking God to heal things I haven’t fully put down yet. This wasn’t loud or heavy, just deeply clarifying. A needed heart check for me during this fast. Thank you for sharing this.
This is great insight. I had to pause and see what I am holding onto for dear life. What am I asking God to heal but I am not releasing to Him? That would be broken identity. Knowing that releasing things to
nGod gives access to not only revelation (knowledge,) but healing makes this act of surrender all the more imperative.
Great read. Proper way to explain what this season has been for me, stillness, in every sense and angle of the word.
Man....there were several points in here thay resonated with me:
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n "It’s the holy choice to stop acting like you’re the one holding the world together."
nI don't necessarily feel like I have to hold the world together but I have had a plethora of moments and seasons where I felt like that I have had to hold "my world" my family together. That if I wasn't doing this or that or since many questions would come to me, that if I didn't have answers then moving forward wouldn't happen. It has/was a burden that I began to internalize and become VERY frustrated with. But the quoted sentence is a reminder of what the Lord has already been dealing with me in. It IS NOT me who is holding anything together. Certain thoughts, tasks, and burdens I took on without consulting God. So to then become angry, frustrated, and irritated, its me to blame for my own weight. But I am GRATEFUL for this reminder.
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n"Sometimes, knowledge of God doesn’t come through more effort; it comes through less resistance."
nThis right here.....is ALSO REAL GOOD. The effort of "more prayer", the effort of "reading the scriptures more", the effort of "more servitude". We do this, I've done this to "know" God more but I can ATTEST that my knowing of God more has came through those moments when I AUTHENTICALLY surrendered something that the Lord wanted me to. That's when HIS love, patience, kindness, and correction became even more clear.
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