Like a Weaned Child
But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me. Psalm 131:2, ESV
When our children were babies, my husband loved to hold them and play with them. His favorite game with our daughter, when she was only a few months old, was to stick out his tongue at her. She’d gaze at him, and then stick out her tongue back at him.
“Look what I taught her to do!” he’d boast, as only a deeply smitten new father can. But when that same darling baby got hungry, she had no further interest in making faces. She’d turn toward her daddy’s chest and begin rooting, pushing her mouth against him, looking for food. Unable to help her, he’d hand her over to me. Any woman who has ever nursed a baby will tell you—when those children want to eat, they want to eat! They are not content with a parent’s mere presence.
I loved the miracle of feeding my children, keeping them alive, really. And yet, once they were weaned, there was a new kind of closeness that developed between us. My son would toddle to the rocking chair, tattered blankie in one hand, and pat it invitingly while looking at me with sweet blue eyes. “Cuddle, cuddle,” he’d say. I’d sit down and he’d climb in my lap, wanting nothing but my arms around him, my presence. He no longer rooted for food in the desperate way of a nursing baby, but simply leaned up against me, content. In a way I never had before, I understood the phrase “like a weaned child.”
Do I come to God like an infant, rooting, restless, wailing to be fed, demanding that my needs be met? Or can I come to Him like a weaned child, wanting only Jesus’ presence?
FAITH STEP: What would it take for you to calm and quiet your soul? Take some time to sit, imagining yourself leaning against Jesus’ shoulder, like a weaned child, content.
Contributed by Keri Wyatt Kent