A Quieted Soul

It’s easy to worry. Anxiety is normal. Fear is expected. There’s plenty to be anxious about.

I once heard a guy on the radio say, “Anyone who doesn’t have high blood pressure these days just isn’t paying attention.”

And maybe he’s right—because we live in a world wound tight with hurry and pressure. The screens don’t sleep. The headlines never stop. Somewhere, something is always breaking—news, budgets, or hearts.

Into that swirl of noise, King David whispers:

“O Israel, hope in the LORD from this time forth and forevermore.” (Psalm 131:3)

It’s a whisper that can steady your soul.

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Pride, Humility, and the Center of the Universe

Vince Lombardi—one of the great NFL coaches—was said to have a large ego. After one of his wins, he slipped into bed late at night. His wife was already asleep. His cold feet brushed her legs and she murmured, “God, your feet are cold!”

Without missing a beat, Lombardi said, “Honey, when we’re in bed, just call me Vince.”

Someone once said: “The biggest difference between you and God is that God doesn’t think He’s you.”

The world does not revolve around me, and it doesn’t exist to spare me frustration. Pretending otherwise is the essence of pride. Pride is not merely bragging—it’s the illusion that I’m at the center, that I can control things on my own.

Bragging may be a symptom, but pride is deeper—it is self-dependence. Even people who appear timid can be filled with pride because they quietly assume that life orbits their feelings, their fears, their outcomes.

The opposite of pride is humility.

Now, humility is one of those church words that we nod at, but rarely practice. It’s slippery—because the moment you think you have it, you lose it.

True humility is simply living in truth. It says: I’m not God. I’m not the center. There are things in my life I can’t control. I’m dependent on God.

> “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.” (Proverbs 11:2)

“Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment.” (Romans 12:3)

There’s a tongue-in-cheek song that says,

> “Oh Lord, it’s hard to be humble, when you’re perfect in every way…”

We laugh because it’s a little too close to home.

A congregation once voted their pastor “Most Humble.” The next Sabbath they presented him a medal engraved with those words. By the following week they had to take it back—he wore it to church.

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A Short Psalm That Reaches High

Psalm 131 is only three verses long. Yet Charles Spurgeon called it “one of the shortest to read and one of the longest to learn.”

> 1 LORD, my heart is not proud; my eyes are not haughty. I do not concern myself with great matters or with things too wondrous for me.

2 Instead, I have calmed and quieted my soul like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like a weaned child.

3 Israel, put your hope in the LORD, both now and forevermore. (CSB)

Many believe David wrote this late in life—after seasons of both triumph and heartbreak. It sounds like the wisdom of someone who has learned to live in the now: not chained to regret, not borrowing fear from the future.

It’s part of the Psalms of Ascent (120–134), songs sung by pilgrims climbing the road to Jerusalem for festivals. They prepared the heart for worship. The Christian life, too, is an ascent—a steady climb of trust and surrender.

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Verse 1 — The Posture of Humility

“My heart is not proud… I do not concern myself with great matters or with things too wondrous for me.”

One way to lift your heart in God’s presence is to set aside the questions that must bow to mystery. The universe is vast. God is wise. Some things exceed us by design.

I remember a season when I was wrestling with the problem of evil—why suffering? why injustice? I told a friend that I had to understand. He looked at me and said, “David, why do you think you’ll solve what no one has? Who do you think you are?”

It stung—but he was right. My temptation is to insist that faith follow understanding: If I can explain it, I’ll trust it.

Paul asks, “Where is the wise? Where is the philosopher?” (1 Cor 1:20). God’s greatest answer was not a formula but a Cross—a mystery that defeats evil by absorbing it.

We can’t “open God’s mouth and count His teeth.” He will not be reduced to laboratory proof. But He has given us the Cross, and that is enough.

So what do I do with unsolved questions? I bring them there. I may not get explanations, but I meet the Answerer. Peace begins when curiosity yields to worship.