Then David arose from the earth and washed and anointed himself and changed his clothes. And he went into the house of the LORD and worshiped. He then went to his own house. And when he asked, they set food before him, and he ate.

Without any context, today’s verse might sound like a typical day in the life of King David. He got up, washed, dressed, worshiped, and ate. Nothing extraordinary about that…until we read the previous verse: “But when David saw that his servants were whispering together, David understood that the child was dead. And David said to his servants, ‘Is the child dead?’ They said, ‘He is dead.’” After reading verse 19, verse 20 now seems strangely nonchalant. How did David get up and carry on like that immediately after receiving the devastating news of his infant son’s death?

David’s servants were also surprised by the king’s routine behavior upon hearing such tragic news. It’s not that David was unconcerned with his son’s life. 2 Samuel tells us that in the days leading up to the child’s death, David fasted and wept and lay all night on the ground. Yet when he learned his fervent prayers did not result in the healing he desired, David displayed an uncanny peace. While David’s request for healing was not granted, that doesn’t mean his prayers went unanswered. God answered David by meeting him in his despair and filling him with the kind of peace that is only found in his presence.

Today is a particularly fitting day to reflect on David’s despair as we observe the 22nd anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks. We’ve all heard numerous accounts of this tragic day: stories of loss and survival, evil and heroism, fear and hope. But retired Army colonel John Mahony’s experience from the towers that day has a rarer theme: peace.

"As I stepped into that smoky stairway, the Lord's Prayer ran through my mind; over and over and over: 'Thy will be done.' At first, I could only get through part of the prayer. But after a few floors, prayer relaxed me and I was able to say it completely."

In an interview with Religion News Service, Mahony reported that somewhere between the 12th and the 10th floor, a familiar feeling washed over him. He said the sensation reminded him of when his mother would wrap him up in a warm towel after a cold swim–safe and loved. “In that smoky, wet stairway, in a burning building, surrounded by a thousand frightened people; I felt wonder. I felt God's peace, and I knew that regardless of the physical outcome, everything would be all right." That is a peace that doesn’t make sense. As Christians, we might borrow language from Philippians 4:7 and call it “a peace that passes understanding.”

God meets us in prayer regardless of whether those prayers spring forth in joyful celebration or strain from our hearts in unintelligible moans of despair. Isaiah 26:3 paints a beautiful picture of God’s promised peace: “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” The Amplified version adds to that last phrase, “because he trusts and takes refuge in you.” Even when we can’t find the words, we fix our minds on our strong and loving Savior. We cling to him as our refuge, our shelter. We may not always see our outward circumstances change as we petition our Father, but communing with him in prayer changes us as his peace drives out despair.

An adaptation of Psalm 46: God, my refuge and strength, my ever-present help in times of trouble. I will not despair, though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling. I will be still. I know that you are God. You are with me. The God of Jacob is my fortress. In the name of the mighty Prince of Peace who loves me dearly and holds me close, amen.