MaryLynne Wrye MaryLynne Wrye

Like A Child That Is Quieted

I do not occupy myself with things too great and marvelous. But I have calmed and quieted my soul; like a child that is quieted is my soul. (Psalm 131:1, 2)

I do not occupy myself with things too great and marvelous. But I have calmed and quieted my soul; like a child that is quieted is my soul. (Psalm 131:1, 2)

Psalm 131 and 46:10; Job 37:14; Isa. 32:17, Matt. 10:15; Ph. 1:6 and 3:13; I Pet. 2:2-3

What Is God Saying?

In the rich traditions of the Jewish faith, all roads led to the Temple in Jerusalem, the place of God's abode and the scene of the annual festivals—Passover, the Feast of Weeks, and the Day of Atonement. The devout often made pilgrimages to the Temple for these feasts. Psalms 120-134, the Pilgrims' Psalms or the Songs of Ascent, set to vocal music, were like steps leading up to the Holy Place in the Holy City.

The pilgrims found encouragement and a will to persevere as they traveled, perhaps from a considerable distance and through hostile surroundings. Singing of their God's glory and power gave them strength on the long road. These Psalms stress their unwavering trust in God, “Just as the mountains surround and protect Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds and protects his people” (125:2). “The Lord has done great things for us, we are glad” (126:3). “O Israel, hope in the Lord! For with the Lord, there is steadfast love” (130:7).

How Does This Apply To Us?

The Psalmist is like a child whose begging is quieted by their mother’s touch. Pilgrims en route to the glory and the joy at the end of their pilgrimage need assurance that God, who gave them birth, still cares for them and will care for them through maturity and growth and struggle to the end of life's journey and the completion of God's plan. We are weaned from the beginning of our faith and on our pilgrimage to the City of our God. At the journey's end, “we will lift our hands to the holy place and bless the Lord” (Ps. 134.2).

Pray With Me

God, you have come through the infinite tenderness of Jesus, to quiet my soul. He commanded the waves to be still and drove restless demons from troubled hearts, so his word of forgiveness and acceptance calms my spirit. I rest in this awareness that the circumstances beyond my control and things beyond my understanding are under your authority. My soul “can be calmed and quieted, like a child at his mother's breast.” The child need not occupy themself with matters that they cannot comprehend. They receive. They are shielded from danger. They know they are loved. They have all that they need at this stage of their development. They will understand more as they grow, but they are not rejected or ignored because they don’t know everything now.

So, dear Father, I will not “occupy myself with things too great and marvelous.” I will marvel at the wonder of all you have made, I will praise you for the order and perfection of a universe whose greatness I cannot comprehend: for stars beyond sight, for the unvarying precision of molecular structures around me and within, for the mysterious workings of the mind, for all timely providences. The same God who created all that is wonderful made me a part of his perfect plan.

In humility and trust, I abide in your unfailing love. I glory in the unknown because I know everything right and good is of you, Father. I do not fear the unknown because I believe nothing can touch me in your arms.

Through Jesus Christ whose great and marvelous love has quieted my soul. Amen.

Moving On In The Life of Prayer

Prayer is often a weaning process. Away from infancy with its understandable demands for immediate satisfaction. Away from our petty displeasure when our prayers seem to go unanswered. Away from childishness to a mature acceptance and understanding that “God moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform.” “The longer I live, the more faith I have in Providence and the less faith in my interpretation of Providence.” Think about it. Pray about it.

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