“Lord, my heart is not proud; my eyes are not haughty. I do not get involved with things too great or too wondrous for me. 
Instead, I have calmed and quieted my soul like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like a weaned child. 
Israel, put your hope in the Lord, both now and forever.” 
–Psalm 131

“I have calmed and quieted my soul.”

When I read those words, they land on me less like comfort and more like conviction. Calmed? Quieted? I have? Not exactly. More often than not, my soul feels restless, noisy, distracted, anxious.

Have you ever had that moment when Scripture describes a reality you long for but don’t recognize in yourself? That gap can feel discouraging. But sometimes, like here, it’s an invitation to wrestle with what it means to actually live this out.

One way to wrestle is by reading a passage in its inverse. What would the opposite of this psalm sound like, the “anti-Psalm 131”?

“O self, my heart is centered on me, my eyes are arrogant. I occupy my mind with things too big for me, things out of my control. Therefore, my soul is noisy and chaotic. Like a wild animal, my soul is untamed. My hope in myself is both fleeting and empty, both now and forever.” Anti-Psalm 131

If that version feels uncomfortably familiar, you are not alone. We are prone to pride and self-reliance, the very things that lead to a soul in turmoil. So what are the ingredients for a calm and quieted soul. Psalm 131 points us to two.

Humility

“O 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.” — Psalm 131:1

Isn’t it surprising that the first key ingredient for quieting the soul is humility? The psalmist begins by saying his eyes are not on himself but on God.

Why start here? Because there is a direct connection: where your eyes are is where you place your trust.

When our eyes are fixed on ourselves, we inevitably take on things too great and too marvelous for us, things we were never meant to carry: the pressure to control outcomes, the need to keep everyone happy, the weight of solving every problem, the fear of what tomorrow might bring. When we do this, we are putting our trust in self. But we cannot do it all. It is exhausting. That is the thing about pride. It drains you. Pride is a heavy burden to carry, one that suffocates the soul.

Humility is not just the right posture before God; it is the main ingredient for rest. We experience the God of rest when we look up and say with the psalmist, “God, You are God and I am not.” Humility is not a burden. It is air to the lungs.

Discipline

“Instead, I have calmed and quieted my soul like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like a weaned child.” — Psalm 131:2

“Like a weaned child.” Anyone who has walked through the process of weaning knows it is not effortless. It does not come naturally. It takes work, patience, and careful attentiveness.

The psalmist chooses this image to show that rest is not something we stumble into. It must be cultivated. Here is our second ingredient: discipline. Just as a weaned child learns to trust the steady care of a parent, our souls need gentle guidance and consistent nurturing to learn how to rest. A soul at rest has been trained.

If rest could be delivered by a morning stroll on the beach with coffee, we would all have mastered it by now. Instead, it grows as we learn to trust that God will provide what we truly need. A disciplined soul does not guarantee rest automatically, but it places us in a posture to receive it. God does not expect us to never feel worried or anxious, but He does call us to turn back to Him in the midst of those feelings, like a weaned child resting securely in the presence of a loving parent.

Parenting the soul is not easy work. It is a lifelong journey that requires discipline and patience. Over time, just as an infant learns to trust a parent’s provision, our souls learn to rest securely in God’s care.

The Gift of a Quieted Soul

“Israel, put your hope in the Lord, both now and forever.” — Psalm 131:3

 By now, we can feel the impossibility of living with perfect humility and the ongoing work it takes to discipline our souls. At first glance, this verse, “Put your hope in the Lord, both now and forever,” can sound like yet another impossible task. We are fickle, prone to wander. Who can truly live up to this psalm?

Notice how the psalmist begins this final verse: Israel, almost like an exhale, a word of comfort. The focus shifts from the individual to the community, reminding God’s people that they are beloved children. We are not the ultimate parents of our souls. We have a Heavenly Father who knows exactly what we need, even when we do not (Matthew 6:8). What a relief.

The psalmist could not have known it fully then, but our Heavenly Father had a plan, Someone who could truly live up to this psalm. Ephesians 1:5-6 tells us:

“He predestined us to be adopted as sons through Jesus Christ for himself, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace that he lavished on us in the Beloved One.”

Jesus Christ described Himself as gentle and humble in heart. He calmed and quieted His soul, even unto death. And because of His resurrection, putting our hope in God, both now and forever, is not only possible, it is secure. Through Christ, we are God’s children.

Believer, pursue the ingredients of a rested soul: humility and discipline. Remember that your hope is not in your own efforts but in the finished work of Christ. His humility and discipline make true rest possible. Because He calmed His soul before the Father, we can find ours calmed in Him. Hope for today and forever.

Kassie McDowell