¹Yahweh, my heart is not haughty, I do not set my sights too high. I have taken no part in great affairs, in wonders beyond my scope. ² No, I hold myself in quiet and silence, like a little child in its mother’s arms, like a little child, so I keep myself. ³ Let Israel hope in Yahweh henceforth and for ever. (Psalm 131, New Jerusalem Bible)

Every once in a while you happen across a passage of scripture that catches you off guard.  At first, you think, “that’s a nice Psalm.”  But then you keep thinking about it.  A few hours later, it becomes, “man, I can’t get that Psalm out of my mind.”  As the hours turn to days, you start to think, “Yeah, there’s something going on here.  Why is this Psalm continuing to rattle around in my head?”  If you haven’t already, this is the point when our thinking should turn into praying.  We ask the Holy Spirit to open our eyes and soften our hearts in order to hear what He is trying to tell us.

That’s what happened to me just a few weeks ago.  I came across this Psalm in preparation for last month’s Session meeting.  It made a very nice opening devotion for our meeting.  But then I couldn’t stop thinking about the Psalm.  I love the imagery it uses — the idea of resting contentedly in God’s arms the way a little child rests in his mother’s arms speaks to the deep longing of my soul.  But that’s not the part that stuck with me.  It was the first verse that wouldn’t leave me alone.  The hard truth of the matter that I’d prefer not to admit is that my heart is inclined toward haughtiness.  I do tend to set my sights too high.  I am prone to thinking that I’m the one who has to solve all of life’s problems, in great affairs and wonders beyond my scope.  It’s not that I’m terribly arrogant or boastful, rather more that I often think it’s my responsibility to figure everything out and know what the right course or solution should be.  I am often discontent with my lot, and think it’s up to me to change it.

But that isn’t what God wants from me, or from us.  Rather, we’re invited and encouraged to be still and quiet, to rest contentedly in His arms.  That’s the image of verse 2.  A child, whose every need has been met and trusts fully in her mother, peacefully at sleep, without a fear or worry.  That is the kind of relationship God yearns to have with us.  God yearns to provide for our every need, to keep us safe and secure, to hold us warmly and tenderly so we can rest in Him without fear or worry.  What keeps us from experiencing that kind of love is our discontent, our constant striving for more… in other words, the haughtiness of our hearts and the setting of our sights too high.

The Holy Spirit is still convicting me through this Psalm.  My soul yearns for this peace and rest, but my heart resists.  I find myself praying through this Psalm and also Paul’s words in Romans 7: “I do not understand my own behaviour; I do not act as I mean to, but I do things that I hate.” (Rom. 7:15)  Maybe that’s something you find happening in your heart and soul as well.  That’s ok, it’s part of the journey.  As soon as we learn to trust God a little bit, He invites us to take the next step and trust Him even more deeply.  To steadily and steadfastly rest in Him more and more; to become progressively more content with His provision.  It’s easier said than done, but the rewards are well worth it.

Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me. (Phil. 4:11–13)

Blessings,

Rev. David Garrison