With only three verses, blinking twice causes Psalm 131 to become
a distant memory. Something about the nature of Psalm 131 keeps me from
forgetting it too quickly. It’s the stillness and quiet. Psalm 131 calls attention to itself unobtrusively,
with a solid knock, knock, on long forgotten doors. Causing us to peak through
doorway cracks, seeing who would grab our attention in this odd & old
fashioned way. In world of precisely calculated words and meticulously measured
article lengths, Psalm 131 saunters by, making a quiet and unassuming statement:
noise does not triumph over stillness.
The past few weeks I’ve spent several hours in a car each
day. I mostly drive with co-workers, carpooling to save gas. In these still
moments of highway wandering we somehow ignore the radio, the traffic, and the
GPS to tell each other stories. Perhaps the scenery draws it out of us:
constantly surrounded by gum trees, rolling hills and verdant fields. Maybe our
industry beckons us to speak, searching for meaning and direction in a tangle
of community reports, psychologist sessions, and personal opinions. Perchance
our office suite has something to do with it: nine open employee spaces with
six employees and no ringing phones. The world may never know. Our stories flow
from academic endeavors to political movements, personal experiences, future
hopes, and frustrations with seeking truth and change for our clients in the
here and now. Finding truth in our personal whirlwinds of expectations and
desires, to ‘fix’ and ‘change’ others’ situations seems like an improbable
task. Yet when the tides rise and the swirling winds become rattling storms, I
find myself wanting the small truth of Psalm 131. I can quiet my soul.
In the past I’ve sought this quiet externally, believing the
quiet comes from a location or in moments spent apart from chaos. Being
surrounded by green and being the master of my own schedule certainly helps,
but I don’t think finding external quiet quite fits David’s Psalms. David
certainly spent a few seasons in the wilderness, away from noisy society, but
he also spent seasons in service to a mad king, who literally threw spears at
him. Somehow David kept his cool in these hot situations, even when he couldn’t
run away. David’s quietness certainly came from years of watching sheep, but
his stillness remained, even when he had long left the flock and field. Too
often we long to get away instead of seeking quiet and the stillness in our
present circumstances. We let the busyness and chaos of modern living overrun
our inner stillness and quiet, giving up what we do not need to lose.
I have not yet mastered stillness and quiet, but the more I
find myself in the swirl of this chaotic life the easier I find it to remain
calm. Practicing quietness in the midst of turmoil certainly means placing myself
into muddled and murky situations, but the more of these situations I place
myself into, the more I realize chaos doesn’t have to ruin my inner peace. Chaos
happens whether we search it out or not, whether we plan for it or not. The
more I deal with the chaos of life, the more I learn how to deal with my inner
rumblings and disquiet. By seeking out, or perhaps finding myself in, places
and with people where I can speak and express myself and find listening ears,
the more I find myself less concerned by the pounding winds and prattling rains.
I can watch the thundering storm, and live within it, because the winds and the
rains do not define the state of my soul.
Such is the peace that comes from placing one’s self in God.
Such is the peace in Psalm 131.
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