Psalm 131
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.
I recently preached a sermon from Psalms 131. It was a scary message to preach because my personality and temperament are diametrically opposed to calm, quiet, and not occupying myself with great and marvelous thoughts. I love noise, chaos, and thinking deep and philosophical thoughts. I seldom think a thought is too great and marvelous for me.
In light of these barriers, I spent most of the sermon highlighting all the obstacles we face in calming and quieting ourselves with God.
I talked about not getting a good night's rest. I talked about tossing and turning endlessly to find the perfect sleeping position. I confessed how, in the wee hours of the morning, I find myself tormented by my own thoughts - comparing myself with others, dreading the tasks I'm supposed to get done, and replaying mistakes and failures of the past days.
I discussed the endless news cycle. I read headlines about Ukraine, the recession, Roe vs. Wade, and a pastor robbed of $1M in jewelry while on stage (!). I talked about most measures of health and safety improving globally but not mental health problems like depression, anxiety, and stress.
I discussed our culture of outrage and how online media uses clickbait tactics to elicit emotional reactions. Technology has enabled our vision to extend to the horizon and beyond. We can see and hear far beyond the reach of our hands and our heart's capacity to feel.
I alluded to focusing our thoughts and emotional energy on our sphere of influence. It's good to limit one's sphere of concern to the same radius as one's sphere of influence. Unfortunately, my sphere of influence is much smaller than I like to imagine. I can't get my dog to pee in the right place. Heck, my aim isn't that great either.
After the sermon, a couple of people asked me how to determine when one is occupied with "things too great and marvelous". I talked about the sphere of influence and sphere of concern. I realized this answer simply raises more questions about how to determine the size of one’s spheres. Over the past weeks, I've spent a good amount of time wondering about that question - how do I know when I'm occupying myself with things too great and marvelous for me?
Finally, the irony broke through.
If I'm obsessing about which thoughts are too great and marvelous and which aren't, maybe that's the problem. Perhaps even just the act of discerning what's too great and marvelous is, in the moment, too great and marvelous for me. Perhaps the only thing I need to occupy myself is the image in the psalm. Perhaps the safest assumption is when I'm not calm and not quiet, EVERYTHING and ANYTHING I can think about is too great and marvelous for me.
Notice this psalm doesn't give specific thoughts to ponder. God is a genius in that regard. He understands our neuroticism. Instead of a thought, God gives us a picture. It's an image of contentment - a child experiencing intimacy and affection alongside his mother. It's a picture of calm and quiet. God doesn't tell us "Think about being calm and quiet and it will happen", He gives us a picture and asks us to gaze upon it and not worry about anything else.
A friend commented on how my sermon struck him as ironic. I hurried people back from the greeting time, spoke quickly, presented lots of information, and gave people multiple principles to apply. He didn't experience the message as meditative.
He was right. For a moment, I felt shame and regret creeping over me. Normally, this would trigger a fixation on how I would preach the sermon differently. I felt anxiety and panic preparing to give chase. Instead, I decided those thoughts might be too great and marvelous for me and held the picture of a contented child in my head.
I calmed down.
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