Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 1210
“My soul is even as a weaned child.” Psalm 131:2.
I was once conversing with a very excellent aged minister and while we were talking about our attitude and feelings, he made the following confession—he said, “When I read that passage in the Psalm, ‘My soul is even as a weaned child,’ I wish it were true of me, but I think I should have to make an alteration of one syllable and then it would exactly describe me at times—‘My soul is even as a weaning rather than a weaned child,’ for,” said he, “with the infirmities of old age, I fear I get fretful and peevish and anxious. And when the day is over I do not feel that I have been in so calm, resigned and trustful a frame of mind as I could desire.”
I suppose, dear Brothers and Sisters, that frequently we have to make the same confession. We wish we were like a weaned child, but we find ourselves neglecting to walk by faith and getting into the way of walking by the sight of our eyes. And then we get like the weaning child which is fretting and worrying, and unrestful and who causes trouble to those round about it and, most of all, trouble to itself. Weaning was one of the first real troubles that we met with after we came into this world and it was, at the time, a very terrible one to our little hearts. We got over it somehow or other. We do not remember, now, what a trial it was to us, but we may take it as a type of all troubles, for if we have faith in Him who was our God from our mother’s breasts, as we got over the weaning and do not even remember it, so we shall get over all the troubles that are to come and shall scarcely remember them for the joy that will follow.
If, indeed, Dr. Watts is correct in saying that when we get to Heaven we shall, “recount the labors of our feet,” then, I am quite sure that we shall only do it, as he says, “with transporting joy.” There, at least, we shall be, each one of us, as a weaned child. It is a very happy condition of heart which is here indicated—and I shall speak about it with a desire to promote the increase of such a state of heart among Believers—and with the hope that many of us may reach it and all of us who have reached it may continue to say, “My soul is even as a weaned child.”
I. First, let us think WHAT THE PSALMIST INTENDED BY THIS DESCRIPTION. We will begin by noticing the context, in order to understand him, and then we will consider the metaphor in order, still further, to see what he literally meant. First, look at the context and you will see that he intended that pride had been subdued in him and driven out of him, for he commences the Psalm with this, “Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor my eyes lofty.” We are all proud by nature, though there is not one among us that has anything to be proud of! It makes no difference what our condition is—we universally dream that we have something to glory about.
The Lord Mayor is not a bit prouder in his gold chain than the beggar in his rags. Indeed, pride is a kind of weed that will grow on very poor soil quite as freely as in the best cultivated garden. Every man thinks more of himself than God thinks of him, for when a man is in his highest estate and at his best, he is nothing but dust and the Lord knows his constitution and remembers that he is just that and nothing better. Some poor creatures, however, indulge their pride and let it run away with them as a wild horse with its rider. They cannot be trusted with a little money but straightway they hold their heads so high that one might think the stars in danger! They cannot be trusted with a little talent but straightway their genius is Omnipotent, in their own opinion, and they, themselves, are to be treated like demi-gods.
And if they are God’s servants, they cannot have a little success in the ministry or in the Sunday school without becoming quite unpleasant to those round about them through their boastful ways and eagerness to talk of self. Scarcely can they have enjoyment, even of the Presence of God, but what they begin to make an idol of their attainments and Graces, and begin to say, “My mountain, my mountain, stands firm. I, I shall never be moved.” Great I grows without any watering, for the soil of nature is muddy and the rush of pride takes to it mightily!. You need never be troubled about a man’s keeping up his opinion of himself—he will be pretty sure to do that—the force of nature usually runs in the direction of self-conceit.
This pride very often leads to haughtiness, domineering ways towards others and contempt of them—as if they were not as good as we are. And if we see any errors and mistakes in them, we conclude that they are very foolish and that we would act much better if we were in their position. If they act nobly and well, this same pride of ours leads us to pick holes in them and to detract from their excellence. And if we cannot get up as high as they are, we try to pull them down to our own level. This is a base thing to do, but the proud man is always mean. Loftiness of looks and meanness of heart run, with him, like a couple of hounds in a leash.