The Quieted Soul: Psalm 131

Introduction

Brothers and sisters in Christ, it is a profound privilege to gather once again under the unassailable authority of God's Holy Word. This morning, as the sun rises and a new day unfolds, our attention turns to one of the shortest, yet most profoundly impactful, psalms in the entire Psalter: Psalm 131. If you have your Bibles, please open them to Psalm 131, and stand for the reading of God’s word. People of God, hear the word of the Lord:

“1 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. 2 But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me. 3 O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forevermore.“

This is a Psalm of Ascent, one of fifteen such songs sung by pilgrims as they made their way up to Jerusalem for the annual feasts. Imagine the weary traveler, ascending the dusty path, his heart perhaps burdened by the journey or the myriad cares of life, and then he opens his mouth to sing these few, potent lines. These psalms were not merely ancient hymns; they were spiritual disciplines, shaping the hearts and minds of God's people as they approached His holy presence. They taught dependence, fostered hope, and cultivated a posture of reverence.

Psalm 131 is a prayer, a confession, and a corporate exhortation, all wrapped into three concise verses. It speaks to the very core of our spiritual walk, addressing the persistent, insidious struggle with pride and the profound, liberating peace found in humble dependence upon our sovereign God. In a world that relentlessly urges us to strive, to achieve, to assert ourselves, to know everything, and to control every outcome, this psalm offers a radical, counter-cultural call to quietness of soul. It invites us to consider what it truly means to live a life submitted to the Lord, trusting not in our own understanding or strength, but in His unfailing wisdom, His perfect power, and His boundless love.

This psalm resonates deeply with our understanding of God's absolute sovereignty over all creation and humanity's utter, desperate dependence upon His grace. It speaks to the regenerating and sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit, the grace that subdues our naturally rebellious and proud hearts, drawing us into a posture of humble reliance upon Christ alone. As we delve into this inspired text this morning, my earnest prayer is that the Holy Spirit would work within each of us, revealing the subtle, often unseen forms of pride that hinder our walk with God, and leading us into the abiding rest that comes from a soul quieted before its Creator and Redeemer.

Body

Psalm 131, despite its brevity, is rich with theological depth and practical application. It can be broken down into three movements: a confession of humility, a description of a quieted soul, and a corporate exhortation to hope.

I. The Confession of Humility: A Heart Not Lifted Up (Verse 1)

The psalmist begins with a striking and deeply personal declaration:

"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." (Psalm 131:1 ESV)

This is not a boast of self-righteousness, nor a claim to inherent goodness. Rather, it is a humble confession of a heart that has been brought low by God's grace, a soul transformed. It speaks of a spiritual battle fought and won, a posture of humility adopted through divine enablement. The psalmist is describing a work of God within him, enabling him to resist the pervasive pull of pride.

Consider the three facets of pride described here, each a distinct manifestation of our fallen nature:

First, "my heart is not lifted up." The heart, in biblical anthropology, is far more than a mere organ; it is the very core of our being – the seat of our affections, our will, our desires, our intellect, and our moral compass. A "lifted up" heart signifies arrogance, self-exaltation, and an inflated sense of one's own importance. It is the heart that believes it knows better than God, that it can control its own destiny, or that its achievements are solely its own doing, independent of divine providence. This is the root of all sin, the primordial desire to be like God, to usurp His rightful place on the throne of our lives. We see this pride in Satan’s fall (Isaiah 14:12-15) and in Nebuchadnezzar's boast (Daniel 4:30). From a Reformed perspective, we understand that our hearts are naturally bent toward this kind of pride, a devastating consequence of the Fall. As the prophet Jeremiah declares, "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?" (Jeremiah 17:9). It is only by the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit, through the gospel of Jesus Christ, that a heart once lifted up in rebellion can be brought low in humble submission to Christ. The Apostle Paul exhorts us in Philippians 2:3, "Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves." Indeed, as James reminds us, "God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble" (James 4:6; 1 Peter 5:5). The Puritan John Owen eloquently stated, "Humility is the great preserver of the soul." It is the grace that enables us to receive more grace.

Second, "my eyes are not raised too high." This is the outward, visible manifestation of the lifted heart. Proud eyes are haughty, disdainful, looking down upon others in judgment or gazing upward in defiance towards God. They are the eyes that are constantly comparing, critiquing, and seeking to elevate oneself above others, often finding fault in those around them. They are the eyes that are never satisfied with their lot, always looking for something more, something higher, something better, rather than contentment in God's provision. In contrast, the humble soul casts its eyes downward in reverence and adoration before the majesty of God, and outward in love, compassion, and service towards others. It is a visual posture reflecting an internal humility, a recognition of both God's glory and our shared humanity. Jesus warns us against judging others in Matthew 7:1-5, reminding us to first remove the log from our own eye before attempting to remove the speck from our brother's.

Third, "I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me." This speaks to intellectual pride and a restless spirit that seeks to grasp and control what is inherently beyond its finite capacity. It’s the temptation to pry into God’s secret decrees, to demand explanations for His mysterious providences, or to insist on understanding every detail of His eternal plan before trusting Him fully. We are finite creatures, limited in knowledge and understanding, and God is infinite, His ways past finding out. As Isaiah 55:8-9 declares, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." And Paul, overwhelmed by God's wisdom, exclaims in Romans 11:33, "Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!" The humble soul recognizes its intellectual limitations and rests in the knowledge that God, in His infinite wisdom, governs all things perfectly, even those things we cannot comprehend. This is a tremendous comfort for the believer who understands God's meticulous sovereignty over all of life, including suffering, injustice, and uncertainty. We don't need to have all the answers; we simply need to trust the One who does. As the great Reformer John Calvin taught, "The highest wisdom consists in knowing God and ourselves." And knowing ourselves means recognizing our creatureliness and our dependence.

This first verse, then, is a confession of a soul that, by God's grace, has learned to renounce self-exaltation, wrongful judgmentalism, and an overreaching intellectual curiosity that borders on unbelief. It is a soul that has found its proper place in the universe: a creature before its Creator, a child before its Father, a servant before its Master.

II. The Description of a Quieted Soul: Like a Weaned Child (Verse 2)

Having confessed what he is not, the psalmist now beautifully describes what he is, and what his soul has become:

"But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me." (Psalm 131:2 ESV)

This is the heart of the psalm, and it presents a beautiful, and deeply comforting image of spiritual contentment and peace. The comparison is to a "weaned child." What does this powerful analogy truly mean for us?

Consider an unweaned infant. When it is hungry, it cries, it demands, it is restless, its entire being consumed by the immediate need for nourishment, usually by nursing. Its whole focus is on that one desire, and it finds no peace until it is satisfied. This is often a vivid picture of our natural, unregenerate state, and indeed, even our fleshly tendencies as believers: constantly craving, demanding, restless until our desires are fulfilled on our terms, according to our timing. We want what we want, and we want it now. We are often spiritually impatient and demanding, anxious and striving.

But a weaned child is wildly different. It still desires its mother, it still finds comfort and security in her presence, her embrace, her love. But it has learned to find contentment apart from the immediate gratification of nursing. It has learned patience. It has learned that the mother's presence, her embrace, her very being, is enough, even when the specific desire for milk is not met. The weaned child rests peacefully in its mother's arms, not because it is being fed, but because it is simply with its mother. There is a deeper, more mature trust at play, a contentment that transcends immediate physical needs.

The psalmist says, "I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother." This "calming and quieting" is not a passive state, nor is it a natural inclination. The Hebrew word implies a deliberate, active effort, a spiritual discipline of the soul. It is a work of God's grace, certainly, enabling us to do what we cannot do on our own, but it is also a conscious choice to bring our restless thoughts, our anxious desires, our striving ambitions, our incessant worries, into submission to God's wise and good will. It is the spiritual discipline of learning to be content in Christ alone, regardless of our circumstances or the fulfillment of our earthly desires. This is the peace that Jesus promised His disciples in John 14:27: "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." It is the peace that "guards your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:7). This peace is a fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22), cultivated as we set our minds on things above (Colossians 3:2).

This is a vital truth for us. We, particularly as Calvinists, affirm the absolute sovereignty of God over all things, including our trials, our tribulations, our unanswered prayers, and our deepest longings. When we truly believe that God is good, wise, and powerful, and that He works all things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28), then we can truly quiet our souls. We can rest in His providential care, knowing that He knows what is best, and He will provide in His perfect timing, according to His perfect plan. As the great Baptist preacher Charles Spurgeon once said of this psalm, "This is a jewel, though it be a small one." He understood that true rest comes from relinquishing control to God.

This quietness is not apathy or resignation to fate. It is active trust, a fervent confidence in the character of God. It is the soul saying, "My God is enough. His presence is my greatest good. I will not strive, I will not fret, I will not demand, but I will rest in Him." Think of the anxieties that plague us daily: financial worries, health concerns, relational struggles, the uncertainties of the future, the weight of responsibilities. Our natural inclination is to be afraid, to strategize endlessly, to try and control every variable. But the weaned child soul, resting in the arms of its Heavenly Father, says, "My God, holds me. He knows. He cares. He is in control. I will rest." This is the pathway to true spiritual maturity – not the absence of desire, but the reordering of desire, so that our deepest longing is for God Himself, and our contentment is found in His presence, not merely in His provisions. As the Apostle Paul learned, "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" (Philippians 4:11-13). This is the weaned child's contentment, found in Christ alone.

III. The Corporate Exhortation to Hope: O Israel (Verse 3)

Finally, the psalmist turns from his deeply personal confession and experience to a corporate exhortation, extending the blessing he has found to the entire community of faith:

"O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forevermore." (Psalm 131:3 ESV)

The "I" becomes "Israel." The personal experience of humility and a quieted soul is not meant to remain private or isolated; it is to be shared, proclaimed, and extended to the entire covenant community of faith. The psalmist, having found this profound peace and rest in humble dependence, cannot help but call others to it. His personal testimony becomes a corporate summons.

The command is clear, direct, and urgent: "Hope in the Lord." Our hope is not to be placed in our own abilities, our meticulously crafted plans, our accumulated wealth, our political systems, our earthly leaders, or any created thing, however good it may seem. All these are ultimately fleeting and fallible. Our hope must be fixed firmly and exclusively upon the Lord, the covenant-keeping God, the one who is faithful and true, immutable, omnipotent, and omniscient. He is the God who has revealed Himself in His infallible Word and supremely, perfectly, and finally in His Son, Jesus Christ.

For us, as New Testament believers, this hope is not a vague wish or a mere optimism; it is a confident, certain expectation anchored in the finished work of Christ on the cross, His glorious resurrection from the dead, His triumphant ascension to the right hand of the Father, and His sure and promised return. He is our ultimate hope, the one in whom all God's promises are "Yes" and "Amen" (2 Corinthians 1:20). We hope in His saving grace that justified us, His sustaining power that sanctifies us, and His glorious future that awaits us. As Peter writes, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you" (1 Peter 1:3-4). This is the living, active hope that transforms our present reality.

And this hope is not fleeting or temporary. It is "from this time forth and forevermore." This is an enduring, eternal hope, a hope that transcends the changing circumstances of life, the rise and fall of nations, the passing of generations, and even the certainty of physical death. It is a hope that looks beyond the present moment of trials and tribulations to the eternal kingdom, to the new heavens and new earth where righteousness dwells (2 Peter 3:13), and where we, the redeemed, will dwell with our Lord forever, in perfect peace and unadulterated joy (Revelation 21:1-4). As the Baptist Catechism reminds us, our chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever. Our hope is in that eternal enjoyment.

This corporate call to hope in the Lord is a powerful reminder that our individual spiritual journeys are inextricably intertwined with the larger body of Christ, the church. As individual believers cultivate quieted souls, as we learn to humble ourselves and rest in God's sovereignty, the church as a whole becomes a beacon of peace, trust, and unwavering hope in a chaotic and anxious world. We are called to encourage one another, to bear one another's burdens, to remind each other of God's faithfulness, and together, we fix our hope on the Lord, knowing with absolute certainty that He will never disappoint those who trust in Him. This is the perseverance of the saints, not by our own strength or merit, but by the preserving power of God's sovereign grace, which keeps us steadfast unto the end.

Conclusion

Psalm 131, though brief in its composition, offers a intense and immensely practical spiritual lesson for every believer. It calls us away from the restless striving of pride, the anxieties of self-reliance, and the endless pursuit of control, and into the peaceful, liberating embrace of humble dependence upon our good and sovereign God. It invites each of us to cultivate a "weaned child" soul – a soul that finds its deepest contentment not in the immediate fulfillment of every desire or the understanding of every mystery, but in the simple, profound, and sufficient reality of being held securely in the loving, omnipotent arms of our Heavenly Father.

How, then, do we cultivate such a quieted soul in the midst of a noisy, demanding world? It is not a passive process, nor a one-time event, but an active, ongoing pursuit of humility and trust, empowered by the Holy Spirit. And critically, this pursuit is always in and through the person and work of Jesus Christ.

Confessing our pride: We confess our pride not merely as a moral failing, but as a rebellion against Christ's rightful Lordship. It was Christ who humbled Himself, taking the form of a servant (Philippians 2:5-8), to redeem us from the pride that separates us from God. Our humility is a reflection of His.

Submitting our intellect: We submit our intellect to God's wisdom, not blindly, but because in Christ "are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge" (Colossians 2:3). We trust His character, revealed perfectly in the Son, more than our limited comprehension.

Practicing contentment: We learn contentment not by sheer willpower, but by drawing from the inexhaustible wellspring of grace found in Christ. He is our true manna, our living water, our all-sufficient portion. As the Apostle Paul says in that frequently abused scripture, "I can do all things through him who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13). Our contentment is a fruit of abiding in Him.

Fixing our hope: Our ultimate, unshakable hope is not in a vague concept of "the Lord," but in the concrete, historical reality of Jesus Christ – in His finished work on the cross, where He bore our pride and sin; in His glorious resurrection, which guarantees our new life; and in His promised return, when He will bring us fully into His eternal rest. He is the "hope of glory" (Colossians 1:27).

Brothers and sisters, in a world filled with incessant noise, pervasive anxiety, and endless striving for what cannot truly satisfy, let us heed the timeless call of Psalm 131. Let us earnestly pray for hearts that are not lifted up, for eyes that are not raised too high, and for souls that are truly calmed and quieted like a weaned child resting securely with its mother. May we, as the redeemed people of God, continually hope in the Lord, our Lord Jesus Christ, from this time forth and forevermore. For in Him alone is true peace, profound rest, and an enduring hope that will never fade, but will culminate in the glorious presence of our Savior for all eternity. To Him be all glory, honor, and praise. Amen.