PSALM 131

February 23, 2020

As
you know, we have been working through the book of 1 Peter this year. Peter has
been teaching the persecuted church how to live a beautiful life in a hostile
world. This was a skill that early Christians needed to learn, and it’s a skill
that we need to learn. But this morning, instead of continuing the discussion,
I want to step back for a moment and think about how interesting it is that God
would want us to learn this skill.

Think
about everything that Peter had witnessed by the time that picked up his pen to
write the suffering churches. He had seen the power of God. He watched Jesus
calm a storm & cast out demons. He had seen the transfiguration & the
brutal crucifixion. He had walked into the empty tomb and put his hands in
Jesus’ scars. He had been filled with the Spirit of God on Pentecost, preached
a message and baptized 3,000 people. He had healed a lame beggar at the temple.
He saw the Spirit take the gospel from Jerusalem to Judea and Samaria to the
ends of the earth. The very fact that he was writing a letter to the churches
in Asia was proof that Christ was alive and that the Spirit had unleashed an
unstoppable movement.

But
just as these churches were planted and established throughout the civilized
world, everything changed. You know the story. The unstoppable force of the
church ran into the brick wall of the Roman Empire. The church was upsetting
the balance of power, so the Romans responded. At first, Christians were
treated with suspicion, but that didn’t change anything, so the treatment
turned into contempt. By the time Peter wrote his letter, Christians were being
mocked and derided for their moral positions, so much so that Peter could call
it a fiery trial. In just a few years, the mentally unstable Nero would take
the throne and unleash a season of widespread persecution. He would murder and
torture Christians for his sick entertainment.

The
church ultimately triumphed, just as Jesus predicted. But it is confusing. How
could the triumphant God of the resurrection & Pentecost allow his saints
to burn on a pole for the entertainment of a perverted Emperor? It doesn’t make
any sense. What do we do when the facts
of our lives don’t line up with the facts of our faith? A lot of people in
the early church felt that tension and determined that the personal cost wasn’t
worth it, so they walked away. It was a major problem in the 1st
Century, so the apostles wrote letters to address it. This is why the NT is
filled with stories of God’s power, but also letters like 1 Peter & Hebrews
that exhort Christians to persevere when they didn’t feel God’s power.

But
it wasn’t just a 1st Century problem. Christians have been wrestling
with this for 2,000 years. I would imagine that this room is filled with people
asking similar questions.

*God, I’ve prayed for healing! I read about
healings in the Bible. So why am I still sick?

*God, I pray and do my devotions
and go to church! Why can’t I feel you? Why does it feel like my prayers are
bouncing off the ceiling?

*God I’ve tried to be
patient with my husband like 1 Peter 3 tells me. But it’s not working. My
marriage continues to unravel.

Some
of you are trying to have faith in God, but your faith doesn’t seem to be
working. Add to the fact that your faith is beginning to cost you. Your
position on homosexuality and abortion and the role of women in marriage are
making you look weird. And so some of you
are paying the cost for owning faith, but you’re not getting any benefit. How
much longer can you keep it up? People are asking hard questions. I’ve been
crushed over the past few months to watch public figures and close friends
leave the faith, or “deconstruct” their faith. A growing number of people are
concluding that it’s just not worth it.

I’d
like to wrestle with that this morning. The Bible invites us to have faith in a
powerful and living God. But it also teaches us how to hold onto that faith
when we don’t feel his power. And so, if you have your Bible, turn to
Psalm 131. This is one of the smallest chapters in the Bible – only 3 verses –
but I can’t think of a passage of Scripture that has made a bigger impact in my
life over the past 13 years than this psalm. God did not use this text to
create faith in my life, but he did use
it to preserve my faith. That’s quite a statement, so let me explain as you
make your way to the text.

I
was first introduced to this psalm in late February 2007 – almost exactly 13
years to the day. A friend of mine had sent me a link to a sermon on Psalm 131 that
was preached at Moody’s Founder Week in Chicago by a guy named Haddon Robinson.
I pulled it up on the desktop computer in my parent’s kitchen in Buies Creek. That
sermon shook me to the core and those three little verses in the Psalm transformed
the nature of my faith. It had come at a perfect time in my life. Just a few
weeks earlier, I had gotten a call from my father in the middle of the night. You
never want to get a call from your dad at 2am. He let me know that my mother
had passed out at their weekly Barnes & Noble date earlier that night. They
took her to the ER and found a massive tumor in her head. I was 23. That sent
my life into a tailspin and for the first time in my life, I was confronted with
some major questions. What will I do when the facts of my life don’t add up
with my faith? I feel like God dropped Psalm 131 in my lap like a gift. It
became a guide for me in that chaotic season. Now, for the record, none of my
questions about faith were answered in that sermon. And the journey got much,
much harder over the next few years. But I
knew what to do. There was a path for me that did not include walking away
from God when I didn’t know what he was up to. And so with that, let me read
the text. Ps. 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.

If
anyone could write a biography on how the facts of life don’t always add up
with what we know to be true about God, it would be King David. Think about his
early years. God called him out of a life of obscurity. He wasn’t just an
obscure figure in the nation – he was an obscure figure in his own family. When
they prophet came to anoint a new king, he literally had ask: are you sure there isn’t anyone else living
here? Oh yeah, I guess you could talk to David. He was forgotten in his own
home, and yet, God chose him to lead the nation. In the very next chapter,
David walked onto the battlefield and destroyed the Philistine warrior with a
little stone. He immediately won the hearts of the people. He married the
king’s daughter and befriended the king’s son. David knew the power of God. Everything was perfect & smooth,
right? Well, at least until King Saul threw a spear at his head. It was fine
until Saul made it his primary goal to kill David. David would spend ten years
hiding in caves and running to enemy territories before he took the throne.

David
always found himself in these frustrating, confusing situations. What he knew
to be true about God’s purpose in his life didn’t always add up with the facts.
But here’s the great thing about David: he never gave up. When Saul got in a
jam, he chose the shortcut, but David knew how to rest in God. Ps 131 shows us
how. Look at verse 1.

[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.

When
David was placed in these impossible situations, he looked inside to remember who
he was. He was just a human. The crowds were making up songs about the legend
of David – he’s killed his 10,000s!
David knew better.

*His
heart wasn’t lifted up. He wasn’t swollen with pride.

*His
eyes weren’t raised high – the Hebrew literally means that he wasn’t looking
down on anyone else. This happens when we become arrogant and entitled; we
begin to look down on others. David knew how tall he stood.

*He
was not grasping for things that were out of his reach. In other words, he
didn’t worry about things that were clearly out of his control.

David
sang this song to remind himself how small
he was. This was the secret to his
greatness: he knew how small he was. He lived within the limits of his
humanity.

(Michal
illustration?)

If we want a mature faith, this
is the first step: we must give up our pride. Pride
is the enemy of faith. It will always lead you away from God. It
will never let you rest. Pride will puff you up and cause you to
look down on other people. It will make you entitled and arrogant.
Pride disorients us. We’re like Alice in
Wonderland who was always blowing way out of proportion. It is a miserable way to live, but many of
us don’t know another way.

This
has been the condition of our heart since Adam & Eve rebelled in the
garden, but it is extremely difficult in our current context. We live in a
world that celebrates and encourages pride. We work hard to hide the fact that
we’re small and fragile and needy.

Let
me try to illustrate this. We used to be confronted with our smallness every
time we ate. Think about it: for most of human history, people only ate after a
very long and fragile process. You plowed the ground and planted seed and
prayed for rain. And if God blessed, you feasted. This is why we stop and pray
before we eat. Every meal was a reminder of how small and fragile we are. But
that’s not how we think about food anymore. Food is no longer a gift; food is assumed, and so we have become
very entitled. If the grocery store doesn’t have our brand of almond milk, we
let the manager know how disappointed we are. Instead of pausing to thank God
for his provision at a restaurant, we blow up on the college freshman waitress who
is working her way through school because we clearly said NO MUSHROOMS! We have forgotten how small we are.

Or
what about this: There used to be a time, not too long ago, where we were
constantly reminded how fragile and forgetful our brains were. You would be in
a conversation with a friend and someone would say: “who was that actor in that
movie?” That would send you on a three-day journey. It would always end at 2am –
you would pop your head off your pillow: “Gregory Peck!” We don’t do that
anymore. Not because we’re smarter, but because we have smart phones. Our
phones have changed our experience in the world. Do you remember how small
and human you felt walking into a truck stop to ask what city you were in? We
don’t get lost anymore. We don’t even have to sit in traffic jams anymore.

These
are minor examples, but they illustrate a major problem. We are in danger of forgetting how small we are. My generation has
not lived through a global war or a widespread depression to humble us. We have lived through unprecedented
affluence. Technology has improved our lives in every way. As wonderful as this
is, we have become entitled. And unless
we check the condition of our hearts regularly, like David, we will become
swollen with pride. We will venture into realms that are too awesome for us.

This
is so dangerous. Here’s why: the puffed-up soul isn’t ready for disaster. It’s
not prepared for failure. If you never experience pain or hunger or forgetfulness,
how will you respond when something truly horrible happens to you? Will you
demand an answer from God? What will you do when God feels distant and your
prayers bounce off the ceiling? Will you give up and walk away?

I
need to be careful here, because I want you to know that it is appropriate to
ask hard questions to God. In fact, the Bible invites you to cry out to God. David
did it all the time. In Psalm 22 he cried out: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? It is OK to ask God hard
and honest questions when your life falls apart. Listen to Haddon Robinson: Sometimes the question why is the sob of a
broken heart. Sometimes the question why is like a pained sigh. The difficulty
comes when the question mark becomes a dagger and that dagger is pointed at the
heart of God.

That’s
the essence of pride. David didn’t go there. He refused to sit in judgment over
God. There were things too marvelous and wonderful for him.

Look
at the 2nd verse. Because David renounced his pride and remembered
his humanity, he is in a position to trust God.

[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.

The
proud heart cannot trust God. But the humble heart leans in like a child with
its mother. This is a very intimate image. I imagine there are a lot of adults
& self-sufficient people in the room that feel uncomfortable with relating
to God like this. For a lot of you, this verse confirms your suspicions: Christianity is a weak religion for weak
people, but it doesn’t help you when life gets tough. That’s not what David
is saying. Remember who wrote the psalm – David was the warrior king of Israel.

The
faith that David articulates in the verse is extremely mature. The key word in
this verse is weaned. There is a
dramatic difference between a breastfed baby and a weaned child. We’ve gone
through this a few times in my house, so I know the drill. The breastfed baby
is cute, but don’t be fooled. It’s a time bomb. Every 2 hours they start to
stir in their crib, and they make that face. Then they start flailing their
arms around. When they start grunting, you have about 5 seconds to get them to
mama before they produce an ungodly noise that shouldn’t come out of a human
that size.

David
didn’t say: Calm me down God! I’m
restless and hungry and I need you to calm me down. That’s not the image of
discipleship in the Bible, but that’s how
many of us relate to God. We’re stuck in a perpetual infancy. I came
across an article from David Powlison that helped illustrate this. Powlison is
known for composing anti-psalms that contrast a godless existence with a life
of faith. Look at the anti-Psalm 131:

O Lord, I can’t stop
thinking about my problems;

Nobody else understands what
I’m going through.

I demand an answer for every
problem I face.

So naturally I am noisy and
restless inside.

Like a hungry infant,
fussing on his mothers lap,

Like a hungry infant, I am
restless with my demands and worries.

I scatter my hopes onto
anything and everybody all the time. 

That’s
not a life of faith, but it’s the only faith that many of us know. God desires to move us beyond that stage,
but that is a painful process. It looks a lot like a mother weaning her child. She
says to the baby: no more milk; come to
me instead. There will most likely come a time in your life when God will
deny you something that you really want to give you something far greater.
(What is the nature of your prayers? Do you go to God for milk, or do you go to
God for God?) This is a transition, and many people walk away, but there is an
amazing blessing if you learn to trust in God, even when you don’t get what you
want. Listen to Spurgeon: “It is a
blessed mark of growth out of spiritual infancy when we can forgo the joys
which once appeared to be essential, and can find our solace in him who denies
them to us.”

This
is the great message of Psalm 131. God
may not give you an answer or take away your pain, but he will give you
something greater: he will give you himself. Some of you are hung up
on the question why this morning. But
that’s a question that God doesn’t promise to answer. He denied Job and he
denied Paul 3 times. God may never reveal why
you are going through what you are going through. But can I suggest a deeper
question for you to ponder this morning? Instead of asking: God, why is this happening, can you ask:
God, are you for me? Do you even care? I can confidently
answer that question. Yes, God is for you.

[35] Who shall
separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or
persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? [36] As it is
written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded
as sheep to be slaughtered.” [37] No, in all these things we are more than
conquerors through him who loved us. [38] For I am sure that neither death nor
life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers,
[39] nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to
separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

He may not give you answers,
but he will give you himself. Take comfort in Christ this morning.

David
has one more thought.

[3] O Israel, hope in
the LORD from this time forth and forevermore.

This
is an unexpected conclusion. I can’t think of a more intimate and personal
psalm than Psalm 131. David is talking about crawling up into the lap of God
like a weaned child. If I were him, I would have thought about keeping this one
in a private journal, and not one to be sung by God’s people for the next 3,000
years. But that’s not how David thought. He wanted his faith to be embraced by
the nation he led. He was a good king.

Earlier
this week a friend asked me how long I had been preparing for this message. I
told him about 12 or 13 years. And I mean that. As I’ve said, this psalm is
very meaningful to me, and it has shaped my faith. But I haven’t been able to
share it. I couldn’t even write some of the paragraphs this week without getting
emotional. But this final verse compels
me to preach. Church, we need a strong & mature faith. I’m crushed to
see my friends walk away from Jesus. I know that some of you in this room are
on the brink. You’ve drifted. You don’t know if God exists. You’re ready to
walk away. The journey back to faith seems impossibly difficult. I want you to
know that the journey back to God is not as hard as you think it is. It’s not a
long, rigorous journey filled with penance and good deeds. It’s about as simple
as a little kid crawling up into the lap of his loving mother. Will you rest in
God this morning? Oh Israel, hope in the
Lord, both now and forevermore!

[1] At that time the
disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of
heaven?” [2] And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them [3]
and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you
will never enter the kingdom of heaven. [4] Whoever humbles himself like this
child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.