Who am I?
I’m the ill ease that you feel when you walk into a crowded room. You know, the hot and cold flushes that confuse you when you’re already confused enough.
I am the one that raises the whip to your already racing heart.
I am the tightening of your chest, the snowballing worries that feel like they might become an avalanche and just bury you in an instant.
My friend, I am the obsessive and compulsive.
I’m the voice, you know the one, it’s always questioning questioning questioning everything you do, everything you think.
And I am every single staring eye that watches you in every one of those places that you try so desperately to avoid.
Who I am?
Do you know?
You might have seen this ad on TV.
According to the stats, in any one year, 18% of Australian women will go to the doctor to get help with anxiety issues. 18%. That’s huge. It’s almost one in five. If this room was representative of Australian women - and it probably is - then it means that right now 15 of us are experiencing crippling levels of anxiety. It’s the shadow that follows us. Lurking around corners. Hovering over everything we do. Even talking about it like this can get our hearts racing. 15 of us in this room are currently getting professional help for our anxiety. Probably another 15 of us should be getting help. And then there’s many more who aren’t in treatment at the moment, but have been in the past. And more who will be in the future.
Anxiety’s a huge problem. A paper I was reading for school described this generation of adolescents as the most anxious ever. A news article said that anxiety’s the modern pandemic. It’s like the flu of the early 1900s and the plague in the middle ages.
Even for those of us who aren’t affected so acutely - anxiety’s no stranger. We all know that feeling of worries bearing down upon us. The stress that there’s so much to do. So many expectations. We’re spread thin. Our lives are out of control. We feel inadequate. Overwhelmed. Sometimes we’re so overwhelmed we’re paralysed and can’t do anything at all.
Perhaps that’s where you are now. Maybe you were looking forward to today because craft is an escape - somewhere you go to block out the stress. Something you retreat into. Let the storms rage all around. I’ve got my head down over my patchwork and all is good! I love today’s vintage theme. It’s relaxing because it makes me think of a world where there are no computers or mobile phones or other things that stress me out. I think back to some imaginary good old days and rest there for a while.
But the trouble is that at three o’clock I’ve got to go home and face reality. This is nice, but craft doesn’t really solve my problems. They’re all still waiting for me back home.
As I talk to you today, I want to give you something to take back home with you. Something that I hope will last longer than the craft you’re making. I want to give you a picture of the non-anxious life. A mental picture of how God wants us to live. Without the crippling worries. Without the knots in the chest. Without the racing heart. It’s painted for us in an ancient poem - a psalm - by king David. It’s a beautiful picture of calm and contentment. Even if you’re really familiar with the bible, I bet you’ve not discovered this Psalm before. It’s number 131. Just a few lines long.
O Lord, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty;
Nor do I involve myself in great matters,
Or in things too difficult for me.
2
Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child within me.
3
O Israel, hope in the Lord
From this time forth and forever.
It’s short, so let me read it again.
O Lord, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty;
Nor do I involve myself in great matters,
Or in things too difficult for me.
2
Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child within me.
3
O Israel, hope in the Lord
From this time forth and forever.
Isn’t it lovely. As I read it, I feel my heart slowing down. “Surely I have composed and quieted my soul.”
Let’s spend a few minutes pulling it apart. Looking closely at this picture of the non-anxious life.
First up the writer says that his heart isn’t proud. He’s not self-important. He doesn’t think more of himself than he should. Next, he says that his eyes aren’t haughty - he’s not disdainful, arrogant. Looking down on others.
O Lord, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty;
That’s sounds okay. But listen to the next bit...
Nor do I involve myself in great matters,
Or in things too difficult for me.
This is interesting. The writer says that he doesn’t involve himself in ‘great matters’ or in things ‘too difficult’ for him. Could you say that of yourself?
When I first read this verse my reaction went something like - “Well good for you David! I’m glad you have the luxury of a straightforward and easy life! But I don’t - unless I block out everything else and live in a bubble where it’s just me and my stitching and no-one else can come in. (That would be nice, wouldn’t it!) But is that what the writer’s arguing for here? A life of denial where we shut the door on all the hard stuff? Is that what it means to not be involved in ‘great matters’ or things ‘too difficult’? Maybe David - the writer - doesn’t actually have anything to say to my stress and anxiety. Maybe he doesn’t get it.
No. That’s not it. David gets it. Remember who he was - Israel’s great king. David was a man who knew pressure and stress and fear. In his early life, he was the shepherd boy who famously defeated Goliath. But after that, it wasn’t just one victory after another. David spent years and years on the run from jealous king Saul. He lost his best friend. He finally became king and then he had all the affairs of state to manage. It was a turbulent time and Israel was almost constantly at war. On the home front he had ambitious advisors to deal with. The loss of a baby. An adulterous affair that had huge consequences for his family and nation. Feelings of guilt and failure. At times, he barely held on to sections of his own kingdom. Later in life his family was a complete mess. He had treacherous sons plotting against one another and against him. There was murder, there was mayhem.
David’s life was not an extended craft day.
It was stressful and complicated. His responsibilities were huge.
Yet he says he doesn’t concern himself with “great matters” and things “too difficult for him.” What can he mean?
I think the answer comes in the picture of the next verse:
Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child within me.
Can you see it? A child - maybe a two year old - resting against his mother. David says that that’s what his soul’s like. But notice how it’s specifically a ‘weaned’ child? Why ‘weaned’? Does that detail matter?
When Nathan, my oldest, was a baby, he’d bump his head on something or hurt himself somehow and the easiest way to make it better was to feed him. He’d want that comfort. If anything bad happened in his little baby world, I’d try and just give him a cuddle, but it wasn’t enough. He’d stay agitated. Then I’d put him on my breast and he’d calm down. When it was time to wean him, I was worried. What would I do to comfort him if I wasn’t feeding him anymore? What other trick could I use?
Well - as any mum could tell you, it wasn’t a problem. There’s this lovely things that happens after you’ve weaned your baby. Your baby realises that it’s not your milk that they want, it’s you. When Nathan bumped his head he’d come to me and I’d cuddle him and that would make it right. I’d tell him it was okay and he’d believe me and it would be okay. He didn’t need my milk, he needed me! He’d rest against me, quiet. Content. No worrying. No fretting.
David says that his soul is like a weaned child. It’s an amazing analogy for a man to use.
Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child.
This picture makes sense of the statements in the first verse. A little child rests against his mother and doesn’t bother himself with big and difficult things. He doesn’t worry about how the mortgage is to be repaid. He isn’t thinking about where the next meal’s coming from. He’s not worried about the war in the middle east - or even the war next door. He doesn’t have to. Mum’s got those things sorted. He’s with her and that’s enough. The weaned child knows his place in the world. Nestled in to mum! Mum will sort things out.
My heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty;
Nor do I involve myself in great matters,
Or in things too difficult for me.
These are things the little child could say. Yet they are coming out of the pen of the great King David.
Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child.
This is the picture of the non-anxious life. Contented, humble trust in another. Trust in another who is stronger than you.
David was among the most powerful men in the world in his day. He was king, military commander, political strategist, husband, father, philosopher, poet, musician.
Yet he says that at heart, he is a little child resting against another. He isn’t anxious about tomorrow, because he knows there’s someone else who’s got it sorted. Someone who’s strong and trustworthy. Who holds the strings on world events and who holds him and loves him.
Who is it?
Who is it who is big enough to hold a king?
Look at verse three.
O Israel, David says.
hope in THE LORD
From this time forth and forever.
It is the Lord God who David’s resting against. This is the Lord who won the battle for him against huge Goliath. It’s the Lord who’s time and time again proved himself to be worthy to be leaned upon. He’s strong. He’s powerful. He’s reliable.
David doesn’t need to be anxious about tomorrow. To worry about it. His Lord is strong enough to hold him through whatever might happen. So he’s not anxious. Instead, he’s hopeful. And he encourages his people and us, to be hopeful too. See it there?
O Israel, he says.
HOPE in the Lord
From this time forth and forever.
Anxiety is worry about tomorrow. About what’s going to happen. It’s an attitude towards the future - a negative attitude towards the future. But David tell us to have a different attitude. We’re not to worry, we’re to hope - and in particular, hope in the Lord. We’re not to wake up dreading the new day, but wake up hopeful. Confident that God’s got things sorted. This isn’t just a positive thinking trick or a bit of wishful thinking. David says we’re to approach the future with a firm knowledge that there’s someone strong in charge. We rest against the Lord knowing that he has tomorrow sorted. We can count on him.
This is what David did. And it’s what brought calmness and peace to him amidst all the pressure and chaos of his life. It was what allowed him to not collapse under the weight of responsibility. To not be paralysed by all that there was to do.
Do you know that peace?
If you don’t know the kind of peace in your own life that David writes of here, can I say that the way you get it is to get to know the Lord that you’re to rest against. There’s no way you can trust him if you don’t know him!
I’m not talking here about learning to trust your own vague notion of some grandfather figure in the sky. That’s actually not going to help you. The pressures of life are real and the Lord we lean upon needs to be real if he’s to hold us up. The real God revealed himself to us in the person of Jesus Christ. He proved his love for us by dying for us, he proved his power by rising from the dead and he promises to work all things for our good if we love him.
Will you rest against this Lord? Against Jesus?
Many of us here today are Christians. A Christian is someone who’s admitted that they need help. We know that we’re not sufficient in ourselves. We’ve heard about Jesus, thought about all he’s done, weighed up the evidence and decided that he’s trustworthy. He’s strong enough for us to rest against. And we’re learning to live the non-anxious life that David wrote of.
For some of us, this is really hard.
We can be like kids who grew up in neglectful or abusive homes, who weren’t looked after properly. Kids like that, even after they’re put in safe and caring homes, they still find trust really hard. They can know in their heads that they’ll be looked after, but underneath there’s still this instinct to depend only on themselves. So they’ll steal food from the pantry and hide it under their beds. Just in case.
For many of us here who are Christians, that’s what we can be like. We know in our heads that Jesus reliable. That we can trust him. And we’ve decided to. But our hearts haven’t caught up yet, so we don’t rest against him. We nurture our worries - like a kid stashes food under her bed - imagining that we can stay in control of things that way.
One great theologian said that Psalm 131 takes the shortest time to read but the longest time to learn. If you’re a Christian who’s finding trust hard, keep working at it. Anxiety’s a response that’s been hard wired into us. Perhaps it was modeled to us by our parents. A habit like that’s going to be hard to kick. It’s going to take some time. Some of us will need medical help to clear our heads and get started. But if you’re getting to know Jesus better, you can be sure that change will come.
If you’re not a Christian, can I invite you to consider resting against the Lord too. This is a big step - because first up it means admitting that you’re not sufficient in yourself. I’m asking you to admit that you need someone stronger than yourself. And who wants to do that? But surely if David the great king and warrior wasn’t too big to rest against another, then we aren’t either.
Jesus invites us
28 “Come to Me, he says all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. 29 Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”
Jesus invites us to rest against him. To come to him. Cast our burdens on him. He is strong enough to take care of them. Psalm 131 is a picture of the non-anxious life that God has for us when we do that.
Will you live like that?
O Lord, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty;
Nor do I involve myself in great matters,
Or in things too difficult for me.
2
Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child within me.
3
O Israel, hope in the Lord
From this time forth and forever.
Amen.
