Calm and Quiet Your Soul [Psalm 131]
Many nights, I lay my head on the pillow and the quietness of the evening makes my thoughts all the louder. I scroll through questions in my mind from mundane to meaningful. Did we close the garage door? Did I just hear the kids call out? Was my friend offended by what I said? Shouldn’t I be doing more about all the problems in the world? Why does God allow such suffering? What if my daughter’s fever gets worse? Do my kids have to bring a snack to preschool tomorrow? It’s like the questions are ping-pong balls flying through my brain. Even if I answer each one, another comes flying back at me.
I’ve started to practice breathing when I’m restless in those moments. It’s almost silly that I need to practice it, but when I focus on taking slow, deep breaths, my body calms. I talk to my kids often about taking deep breaths, too, especially when they’re upset. It’s simple, yet effective. It forces your body to slow down physically, and it helps you slow down mentally. As I breathe at night, I pray through each of my questions, holding each ping pong ball and giving it back to God rather than letting it fly loose through my mind.
That breathing reminds me of Psalm 131. I’ve written briefly about this passage of Scripture, and I returned to it again this week. It’s a part of the Psalms of Ascent, a group of psalms (120-134) believed to be sung by the community of Jewish pilgrims as they traveled to the temple in Jerusalem. They’re songs that take us on a journey from being far from God (120) to worshipping God in his presence (134). Just over two-thirds of the way through that journey, we come across the short but powerful words of Psalm 131:
O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
too great and too marvelous for me.
But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child is my soul within me.
O Israel, hope in the Lord
from this time forth and forevermore.
This psalm is like an exhale, a spiritual deep breath after walking a wearying road just trying to put one foot in front of the other. After the build up of the journey and the wrestling, struggling, pleading, and praying in the previous psalms, the pilgrim approaches the temple—the place where the presence of God dwelled. There's a sense that the speaker has almost literally let out a sigh of relief upon arriving at the temple. There’s been weeping and fighting for justice. But now? Now the pilgrim approaches the presence of God and is reminded that there, security, provision, and hope can be found.
The tired traveler can rest.
“Even if mind or body refuse their rest—still let my soul take its repose in the enfolding comfort of your presence, my head reclined against your breast, hearing the deep music of your heartbeat.”
One commentary explains how the root word for weaned means “to deal with bountifully, fully or adequately.” It’s the same word used in Psalm 116:7 which says, “Return, O my soul, to your rest; for the LORD has dealt bountifully with you.”
I’ve weaned three children, and the transition away from nursing them wasn’t always easy. But eventually, they found peace in my arms. They didn’t need to grab my shirt or root around searching for food or solace. They had been provided for, and they could find comfort simply by sitting and being. They’re satisfied and able to rest.
It’s not that God takes away the nourishment we need, as if we’re newborns lacking milk. We’re not left clawing at him for sustenance. God gave and continues to give us everything, abundantly beyond what we need. And so we can rest. Like a pilgrim approaching God’s presence in the temple, we can exhale.
Despite how tired and worn we are from the journey, his arms are open. It’s there our souls find calm and quiet.
What would it look like today for you to calm and quiet your soul in the presence of God?
