I keep trying to sit in silence before the Lord. Thoughts and worries zip through my head like pinballs en route to flippers that swat them to the next thought and off they go. There are days that my silence is filled with re-runs from favorite movies, or imaginings from favorite books or precious dreams that I have held. Often it’s the worry du jour that pesters me. Whatever the interruption, focus on God was not possible.
Though my thoughts were varied, they were also consistent in that I tend to think about the same things and worry about the same things. One ‘other’ thought often pushed its way into my pinball machine, and though I did not understand it, I could not ignore it. It was like the ball that falls into a corner – you can’t play it but you can see it there, patiently waiting. The ‘other’ thought that came from nowhere and meant nothing to me was “…like a weaned child is my soul within me…..”
I recognized it from somewhere in Psalms and found it in 131. Verse 2 reads “ I have certainly soothed and quieted my soul; Like a weaned child resting against his mother, My soul within me is like a weaned child.” (NASB) None of that made sense to me. The first part of the verse was confusing because it sounded like something I was supposed to do, and I didn’t know how to do it. The last part was confusing because the analogy of a weaned child escaped me; although I have had children they were bottle fed. I was puzzled by the whole thing, nor could I understand why it would so regularly pop into my head.
Over a period of many months, I began to notice nursing mothers with their children. Babies would sometimes become frantic for what they wanted. They would cry or fuss, sometimes grab, certain of what they wanted and demanding it appear immediately. The closer they were to an age appropriate for weaning, the harder they would fight to get their way. I have offered a few prayers in that attitude.
Eventually, I began to notice mothers with older children, two or three years of age. The children would recline on their mother, wanting nothing from them, only wanting to feel them near. Nourishment was no longer the focal point; the child had learned to trust that food would be given when food was needed. Otherwise, they were content just to be near their parent, feeling them breathe, hearing their heartbeat. Their stillness was beautiful to see.
When I sit in silence now, I keep those pictures in my head. It helps me to remember that most of the time, there is nothing I need. I certainly don’t need to worry. I do need to exercise trust in him – Father, Son and Holy Spirit. To ‘soothe and quiet my soul’, I remind myself of his amazing commitment to me, sure that he gives me whatever he knows I need when he knows I need it. As I approach quiet time with him, I specifically bring to mind every concern, every situation, every challenging emotion of the day, and give it to him to work out, trusting that he will.
As I practice trust one worry at a time, reclining in the hands of God becomes possible. My rolling thoughts finally come to stillness, and I rest in the rhythm of his heartbeat, matching my breath to his.