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Commentary - Psalm 131

Bird's-eye view

Psalm 131 is a marvel of brevity and depth, a master class in spiritual demeanor packed into just three verses. It is one of the Songs of Ascents, sung by pilgrims on their way up to Jerusalem, and it fittingly teaches us the posture of heart required to approach the living God. David, a king who knew the burdens of great matters, here models a profound, childlike trust. This is not the ignorance of a simpleton, but the settled quietness of a man who has wrestled with God and man, and has learned to rest in the Lord's sovereignty.

The psalm moves from a personal testimony of humility (v. 1), to a description of the inner state that results from that humility (v. 2), and finally to a corporate exhortation for all of God's people to adopt the same posture (v. 3). The central image is that of a weaned child, no longer fussing for what it wants, but content simply to be with its mother. This is the heart of Christian contentment: a soul that has been disciplined by the rough process of weaning from self-will, and has come to a place of exhausted, peaceful acquiescence to the will of God.


Outline


Context In Psalms

As one of the fifteen "Songs of Ascents" (Psalms 120-134), this psalm was part of the pilgrim's hymnal. As the people of God made their physical ascent to the temple in Jerusalem, these songs were meant to facilitate a corresponding spiritual ascent. To come into God's presence, one must come with a certain kind of heart. Psalm 130 cries out from the depths of repentance. Psalm 131 shows the quieted heart that follows such repentance. It is a necessary step. Before you can stand in the holy place, you must have clean hands and a pure heart, a heart that has not lifted up its soul to what is false (Ps. 24:4). Psalm 131 is the portrait of just such a heart.

David, the author, was a man of immense power and responsibility. He was a king, a warrior, a prophet. The temptation to pride, to have lofty eyes, and to meddle in things too great for him was a daily reality. Yet here, he confesses that he has learned the secret of humility. This is not a "humblebrag"; it is a testimony born from a difficult, sanctifying process, what he calls being "weaned."


Verse by Verse Commentary

1 O Yahweh, my heart is not exalted, and my eyes are not raised high; And I do not involve myself in great matters, Or in matters too marvelous for me.

David begins with a direct address to God. This is not a public performance of humility, but a private appeal to the one who searches the heart. He makes three denials. First, his heart is not "exalted" or haughty. Pride is a matter of the heart, the central engine of our being. It is the root sin of thinking more highly of ourselves than we ought to think. Second, his eyes are not "raised high" or lofty. The heart's pride inevitably shows up on the face. Lofty eyes are the physical manifestation of a proud spirit, a look of disdain for others and of self-satisfaction. Third, he does not "involve" himself, or as the KJV has it, "exercise" himself in great matters. This refers to a refusal to meddle in things that are beyond his God-given station and responsibility. It is a rejection of the temptation to play God, to demand answers for all of God's inscrutable providences, and to fix everything and everyone. All grumbling and discontent is a form of meddling in great matters, for it is a murmuring against God's sovereign arrangements. David has learned to stay in his lane.

2 Surely I have soothed and quieted my soul, Like a weaned child with his mother, Like a weaned child is my soul within me.

This state of humility is not natural. It is achieved. David says, "I have soothed and quieted my soul." This is an active, sometimes violent, process. The soul does not naturally settle down; it must be wrestled into submission. The image he uses is potent: a weaned child. A child in the process of being weaned is not a picture of tranquility. It is a rodeo. There is crying, fussing, and demanding. The child wants what it has always had, its immediate gratification. The mother, in her wisdom, withholds it for the child's good, so that it can mature and eat solid food. The struggle is intense, but eventually, the mother wins and the child loses. The result is a new kind of relationship. The child is no longer with its mother merely to get something. It is now content simply to be with its mother. This is the state David has brought his soul to. It is a place of "exhausted acquiescence." He no longer clamors for his own way, his own answers, his own comforts. He is content with God Himself. His soul has been disciplined out of its infantile demands and into mature contentment.

3 O Israel, wait for Yahweh From now until forever.

Having described his own personal journey to this place of quiet trust, David turns and makes it a corporate exhortation. What he has learned, all of Israel must learn. This is not just a private lesson for kings. It is a fundamental posture for the entire people of God. "Wait for Yahweh." The word is often translated "hope in." It is an active, expectant waiting. It is the opposite of the fretful striving of the proud heart. It is the settled confidence that God is God, and He is in control, and He will act in His good time. This hope is not a temporary fix; it is to be from "now until forever." This is the perpetual stance of the believer. Having abandoned our own sense of importance, having been weaned from our self-will, we are now in a position to truly hope in the Lord. This is the goal of our sanctification: to bring the whole Church to this place of quiet, confident, and everlasting hope in God.


Application

The central application of this psalm is the absolute necessity of mortifying pride. God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble (James 4:6, 1 Pet. 5:5). If you want God to stand in opposition to you, all you have to do is puff yourself up. This psalm shows us the way out. We must actively quiet our own souls. This means refusing to entertain discontent, grumbling, and complaining, which are all forms of prideful meddling in God's business.

We must embrace the weaning process. God will, in His love, withhold things from us. He will frustrate our plans. He will allow circumstances that bring us to the end of ourselves. This is the rodeo of sanctification. The goal is not to make us miserable, but to bring us to that place of exhausted acquiescence where we are content with Him alone. The mother wins, the child loses, and a deeper relationship is the result.

Finally, this quiet trust is the foundation for true, corporate hope. A church full of proud, demanding, unweaned spiritual infants cannot truly hope in the Lord. It is too busy hoping in itself. But a people who have learned the lesson of Psalm 131, who have quieted their souls, can then turn together and place their confident, settled, and eternal hope in Yahweh. This is the path to peace, both individually and corporately.