Calm and Quiet

 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.
 But I have calmed and quieted and my soul.  Psalm 131:1-2
    

Faintly, I heard my brother calling my name but the ocean was roaring in my ears and I had no idea--none at all--where Harvey's voice came from. We'd been jumping waves at the ocean, spending a beautiful summer day at the beach with our cousins, when a huge roller headed towards us. My brother dove into the wave and let it carry him to shore, while I was caught in it's trough and pulled under, scraped across the rocky bottom, salt water burning my eyes and nose.

I couldn't think. I couldn't pull myself up. I flailed my arms helplessly, certain that at the tender age of 9 I was drowning. Within seconds, though, the crest peaked and threw me onto the pebbled shore.

Suddenly, all was quiet. The water receded. I felt the warm sun on my face and shoulders. I felt the soft sand beneath my body. The shadow of my brother fell across me. "You alright, Linda?"

I nodded and he extended a hand to help me up. "Not yet," I said. "In a minute." The ocean, beloved haven of my childhood, was no longer something I understood.

I'll be frank,  I do not understand any of what is happening in the world right now. I do not know how the corona virus, far across the ocean, mutated from an animal to a person. I do not know how it managed to cross continents and reach our shores. And I do not know how to stop it.

And before I can begin to wrap my mind around it, adjust to a new sort of normal and explain it all to my autistic son, I just need a minute. 

Perhaps you've needed a minute these past weeks as news about the COVID 19 pandemic poured out of our television sets and our social media accounts. Perhaps you've needed to take a deep breath and slow your heart rate, stay for a moment on the soft sand of the beach, still and quiet while the shouting noises of the crowds echoed around you.

Just a minute, Lord. One more minute.

Like David, we need to calm our souls.

Psalm 131 illustrates how David, at a tumultuous time in his life, came to a place of quiet and peace. Scholars disagree on what might have been the circumstances he found himself in: was he running and hiding from Saul, or was he responding to his wife Michal who accused him of undignified behavior when he danced before God? Nonetheless, David needed to deny his own pride and display his willingness to simply serve God (Enduring Word). Verse 1 shows us David's humble attitude, his complete submission to Yahweh. As Jesus illustrated in Luke 14:8-11, David was willing to accept a lowly position.

Despite the circumstances, verse 3 expresses David's enduring hope in God, the satisfaction he finds in the Lord. Notice that he says, "from this time forth and forever more."

I find great comfort in that, in the certain knowledge of "forever more."

In just eight weeks, the world we all knew has drastically changed. Eight more weeks may see another change. And you might be, like me, thinking that you should do something great and sacrificial at this time, some huge gesture that will benefit all mankind. You may think that the little you can offer--phoning a neighbor or taking food to an elderly parent or friend--is only a small drop of water. Take a minute, friend. Rest yourself in God.

Laying on the beach in Rehoboth, letting the warm sun wash over me, I spent moments resting. My brother stood patiently nearby, ready to assist me. And, eventually, I held out my hand to him and he pulled me up. I went back to the umbrella where my aunt waited with a towel to comfort me. It took me a few days before I was ready to tackle the ocean again, to see it as a friend not an enemy. No one rushed me. In the meantime, I played along the surf and built sandcastles with my cousins. One day, though, I was ready to return to the surf that I loved.

One day, we too will return to the world we once knew. We will leave our homes and gather together and praise God for his deliverance. We will "hope in the Lord, from this time forth and evermore." I pray we will take the lessons from this time with us.

So, for now, take a deep breath.  It's okay. We're going to be okay.

We just need a minute or two.