Like a weaned child

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.

I remember the first time I was floored by this psalm.  It was far from the first time I had read it.  After years of studying and discussing and arguing and fighting about theology, after tormenting myself and wallowing in suffering and crying out to God to tell me why and what next and how I would get there, I finally read this psalm again.

“I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.”

And I would dedicate hours to trying to understand how God made his decisions, why he would behave as he appeared to.  I would demand answers of God, satisfaction for my thirst for knowledge.  I would try to divine the future, to know the way that I should go.  And in my mind, this was all for the good.

It was rare that my soul would be quiet.  I’m not sure that I knew what it meant to be quiet.  Rage and fear I had in plenty, but I could not accept calm.  It felt stagnant, as if to rest with the Lord was to refuse to do the work I was called to.

What became apparent was that it was a refusal to do the work I was called to.  What was also apparent was that it was only myself who had called me to it.  In the years of trying to save myself by my understanding of God and my strict adherence to every step that he would have me take, I failed to understand even the simplest call.  “Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

I am still learning to rest with the Lord.  I’m not very good at it.  But as we’re entering Holy Week on Sunday I am reminded of this opportunity, as well as the danger.  We have more services, where we are given a chance to prove to ourselves and to God how hard we can love him by exhausting ourselves in our devotion.  God has no interest in this.  But as we enter Holy Week, we are given more opportunities to come into God’s presence with the church and to dwell on the reality of Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection.  I am looking forward to the time to rest with the Lord, as a weaned child with its mother.  Not to prove what I can do for God, but to receive from him.  Even, and perhaps especially, if that gift is only rest.