SERMON STRUCTURE: A QUIET HOPE
PSALM 131
CIT (Central Idea of the Text): The Psalmist cultivated a quiet heart, like a baby content in its mother’s arms. (14 words)
SERMON FOCUS: God wants us to cultivate a quiet and peaceful heart, like a baby content in its mother’s arms.
MO: Supportive
SO: Cultivate a calm and quiet heart, like a baby content in its mother’s arms, for you are safe in God’s care.
TITLE: A Quiet Hope
Then … the completed sermon should be evaluated in terms of how well it adheres to the CIT and SF, and accomplishes its SO.
INVOCATION
OUTLINE OF PSALM 131
Psalm 131
New Revised Standard Version
1O 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.
2But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother,
like a weaned child that is with me.
3O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forevermore.
New International Version
1My Heart is not proud, O Lord, my eyes are not haughty,
I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me.
2But I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother,
like a weaned child is my soul within me.
3O Israel, put your hope in the Lord, both now and evermore.
The Message
(a personal translation by Eugene H. Peterson)
1God, I’m not trying to rule the roost; I don’t want to be king of the mountain.
I haven’t meddled where I have no business or fantasized grandiose plans.
2I’ve kept my feet on the ground; I’ve cultivated a quiet heart.
Like a baby content in its mother’s arms, my soul is a baby content.
3Wait, Israel, for God. Wait with hope. Hope now; hope always!
SERMON DEVELOPMENT
A Quiet Hope
Psalm 131
Are you a “Type A” person?
Are you someone who likes to be “in charge”? (I’m preaching to myself here!)
Are you someone who specializes in getting things done?
Do you make plans and schedules and goals and try to implement them?
And if “Plan A” doesn’t work, do you have “Plan B,” and maybe even “Plan C”?
Or do you tend to take life as it comes?
Are you happy and content with your present circumstances?
Or are you working toward significant changes in your life?
Each of us have different levels of comfort with these issues.
One of the Scriptures (from the Revised Common Lectionary) for today is Matthew 6:24-34, and it talks about planning and scheduling and being ready for tomorrow.
[Read here Matthew 6:24-34, NRSV.]
I think if we are honest, we recognize that these instructions are “easier said than done.”
Our natural tendency is to feel, and to act, as if we have to look after ourselves, and take charge of our own lives.
After all, we think, if I don’t look after myself (and maybe my family), who else is going to do it?
And we also remember the farmer whose crops were so plentiful he had no room to store all of them. (Luke 12:13-21).
His solution to his “problem” was to tear down his barns and build bigger ones, saying to himself, “you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, and be merry.” (12:19).
But God said to him, “This night your life is being demanded of you. And the things that you have prepared, whose will they be?” (12:20).
And there is also the story of the rich young man who asked Jesus, “What shall I do to inherit eternal life?” And when Jesus told him, “One thing you still lack; sell all that you possess, and distribute it to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me,” the young man “became very sad, for he was extremely rich.” (Luke 18:18-30).
All these stories share a common theme:
It’s a preoccupation with one’s own personal security, an anxiousness about what tomorrow may bring.
And none of us are exempt from that kind of worry or anxiety.
Our Scripture for this morning is a very short little Psalm that provides yet another perspective on living without worry or anxiety.
The Scripture is Psalm 131. I’m reading from the New Revised Standard Version.
[Read here Psalm 131, NRSV.]
The Psalmist says he has “calmed and quieted [his] soul, like a weaned child with its mother.” (131:2).
And in the same way, God wants us to cultivate a quiet and peaceful heart, like a baby content in its mother’s arms.
Psalm 131 is part of a group of Psalms (120-134) called “Songs of Ascent.”
These are Psalms sung or chanted on pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem during the annual Festivals.
They are literally “songs of ascent,” or climbing, or going up, because Jerusalem is on a sloping plateau at the top of Mount Moriah, at an elevation of 2500 feet above sea level (or a little higher than the city of Asheville!), and about 18 miles west of the northern end of the Dead Sea, whose surface is about 1300 feet below sea level.
So the difference in elevation between the surface of the Dead Sea and the city of Jerusalem is about 3800 feet.
The most well known “song of ascent” is Psalm 121 (which is often heard at funerals):
1I will lift up my eyes to the mountains;
from whence shall my help come?
2My help comes from the Lord,
Who made heaven and earth.
3He will not allow your foot to slip;
He who keeps you will not slumber.
4Behold, He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
5The Lord is your keeper,
your shade on your right hand.
6The sun will not smite you by day,
Nor the moon by night.
7The Lord will protect you from all evil;
He will keep your soul.
8The Lord will guard your going out and your coming in
From this time forth and forever.
The elements of Psalm131 express a child-like humility, and a quiet confidence in one’s direction. It is a fitting attitude for being on pilgrimage.
I am not proud or conceited, the Psalmist says, and I do not concern myself with things I don’t understand.
I try to calm my heart, and be content with where I am, like a baby safe in its mother’s arms, the Psalmist continues.
In his commentary on this passage1 Cameron Jorgenson says,
Sometimes we forget that we are finite. We forget that there are things too great and marvelous for our comprehension. This happens easily enough. Tragedy strikes and we want to know why. We look around our world and see pain and suffering, wars and unfathomable cruelty, and we find ourselves asking how those things are possible in a world created by a good God. We look to our faith and find it full of mysteries about who God is: God is one, yet God is three; Jesus Christ is fully God and [yet also] fully human. Before we realize it, we are consumed by questions that—although good and worthwhile—can paralyze us if allowed to become an end unto themselves. But, if we are to offer a humble prayer of trust along with the psalmist, we must make a humble assessment of our ability to understand and then loosen our grasp on these questions. Only then can we redirect our attention toward God who loves us with the concrete love of a caring mother or father.
And while we may not have opportunity to be physically on pilgrimage to the Festival in Jerusalem, our lives are certainly pilgrimages of faith toward our eternal home.
And perhaps we should also be reminded here of Jesus’ assessment of the faith and trust that children possess — a faith and trust that often exceed that of adults.
“2And [Jesus] called a child to Himself and set him before them 3and said, ‘Truly I say to you, unless you are converted and become like children, you shall not enter the kingdom of heaven. 4Whoever humbles himself as this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.’” (Matthew 18:3,4).
There are yet two more meanings in this short Psalm that we need to consider briefly.
Walter Bruggemann is a well-known and highly-respected authority in the Old Testament. His comments are always both insightful and relevant to contemporary culture.
In his commentary on this Psalm2 he takes note that when a child is breast-fed from infancy (as children were in Biblical times, and as they still are in many parts of the world), weaning takes place at about the age of two years.
And so a “weaned child” is a child about two years old.
Now we all know about the “terrible twos,” and we hardly associate calmness and quietness with that age.
And so to paraphrase verse 2, the Psalmist is saying “My soul is as calm and quiet as a two-year old.”
But that interpretation strikes much closer to home than we might like to admit.
For the truth is, sometimes we are all like ducks swimming in a pond: on the surface, all is calm and still, and we are gliding along smoothly, but underneath, we are paddling furiously!
But in our relationship with God, it’s not the outward appearance that matters, but the inward reality.
Are you paddling furiously today?
And finally, there is one more very subtle thought in these verses.
The Psalmist speaks clearly of the calmness and security of a baby with its mother.
But we always think of God our Creator as father.
Yet there are a few other places where the Scripture speaks of God as our “mother”3
Speaking of God as a midwife, Psalm 22:9 says, “Yet Thou art He who didst bring me forth from the womb, Thou didst make me trust when upon my mother’s breasts.”
And Deuteronomy 32:18 says, “You neglected the Rock who begot you, and forgot the God who gave you birth.”
In this verse, the verb translated “begot” or “gave you birth” is the Hebrew word “yalad,” [ dly ], a word used almost exclusively in the Old Testament with respect to a woman in the pains of labor.
And so this verse very clearly implies that God is not only our Father, the one who “begot” us, but also our “mother,” the one who gave us birth.
So think of the powerful images that are in this very short Psalm:
We are pilgrims on a journey to our eternal home. Along the way we sing psalms of praise to our God.
Along the way we work to quiet our souls, to develop confidence in our direction and our destination.
Along the way we acknowledge our limitations as human beings, and enter into that child-like quality without which we can never enter the kingdom of God, either in this world or the next.
And we recognize that God our Father, Creator of all things, nurtures us and gives us peace, even as a mother gives peace and security to the child in her arms.
Linda’s favorite Scripture is Proverbs 3:5, 6
Trust in the Lord with all you’ve got,
And don’t try to figure this out on your own.
In everything you do, put God first,
And He will straighten it all out for you.
(my paraphrase)
When John Todd, a nineteenth-century clergyman, was six years old, both his parents died. A kind-hearted aunt raised him until he left home to study for the ministry. Later, this aunt became seriously ill, and in distress she wrote Todd a letter. Would death mean the end of everything, or could she hope for something beyond, she asked. Here, condensed from The Autobiography of John Todd, is the letter he sent in reply:
It is now thirty five years since I, as a boy of six, was left quite alone in the world. You sent me word you would give me a home and be a kind mother to me. I have never forgotten the day I made the long journey to your house. I can still recall my disappointment when, instead of coming for me yourself, you sent your servant Caesar, to fetch me.
I remember my tears and anxiety as, perched high on your horse and clinging to Caesar, I rode off to my new home. Night fell before we finished the journey, and I became lonely and afraid. “Do you think she’ll be gone to bed before we get there?” I asked Caesar.
“Oh, no!” he said reassuringly. “She’ll stay up for you. When we get out o’ these woods, you’ll see her candle shinin’ in the window.”
Presently we did ride out into the clearing, and there, sure enough, was your candle. I remember you were waiting at the door, that you put your arms close about me — a tired and bewildered little boy. You had a fire burning on the hearth, a hot supper waiting on the stove. After supper you took me to my new room, heard me say my prayers, and then sat beside me until I fell asleep.
Some day soon God will send for you, and take you to a new home. Don’t fear the summons, the strange journey, or the messenger of death. God can be trusted to do as much for you as you were kind enough to do for me so many years ago. At the end of the road you will find love and a welcome awaiting, you will be safe in God’s care.
My friends, the message is the same for us today.
At the end of our road, we too will find love and a welcome awaiting, and we too will be safe in God’s care.
Like the Psalmist, let us therefore cultivate quiet and peaceful hearts about our present circumstances, and about our relationship with the Creator, who is sometimes both Father and Mother to us, and become like a baby content in its mother’s arms.
Can you say with confidence today that “like a baby content in its mother’s arms, my soul is a baby content”?
That is the peace that God offers you today. Will you accept it?
1 Cameron Jorgenson, “A Prayer of Humble Trust,” in The Abingdon Preaching Annual 2008, David Neil Mosser, editor (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2007), 173-74.
2 Walter Bruggemann, “Psalm 131,” in Bruggemann, Cousar, Gaventa, and Newsome, Texts for Preaching A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV – Year A (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995), 158-59.
3 See James Wm. McClendon, Jr., Systematic Theology: Doctrine, Volume II (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1994), 165.