Humility and Nobility: Marks of a 'Weaned Child'

A Sunday school teacher was explaining to her class how God created Adam from the dust of the earth. A four-year-old boy asked, "You mean I'm made out of dirt?"

The teacher said, "Well, in a sense, yes."

The boy thought for a moment. Shaking his head, he said, "My mom is not going to be happy about that!"

Human history is a story of humility and nobility. God made man from the dust of the earth, which teaches us humility. He made us in his image, which gives us nobility. All of us have sinned, which requires humility. All of us can be saved through Christ, which restores nobility.

Aging ought to humble us. (Someone has said, "There are three ways a man can wear his hair: parted, unparted, and departed.") The foolish things we say and do ought to humble us. (Someone else pointed out, "It takes about two years to teach a child to talk. It takes about 50 years to teach him when NOT to talk.")

Graciously, God restores our nobility. The blood of Christ atones for our sin. In our noble state as God's children, "we are more than conquerors through him who loved us" (Romans 8:37).

Like a Weaned Child

Psalm 131 addresses both sides of the humility-nobility equation. It begins by confessing, "My heart is not proud, O Lord, my eyes are not haughty" (Psalm 131:1).

That's a hard prayer, because most of us struggle with pride. Pride makes us angry and defensive, unwilling to apologize when we've done something wrong. Pride makes us look down on others. It makes us push ourselves into the limelight and brag about our accomplishments.

Hot-air balloons don't rise into the air until the ropes that hold them down are released. We won't rise to the heights of our potential until we release the selfish ambition that ties us down. "Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up" (James 4:10).

Psalm 131 goes on, "I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me" (v. 1). It's good to think about "great matters," but there will always be some "things too wonderful for me," which even the greatest theologians and scientists cannot fully explain. Even though I don't understand all his ways, I must let God be God.

"But I have stilled and quieted my soul," Psalm 131 continues. "Like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me" (v. 2). An unweaned child looks at his mother as a meal ticket. She's there to meet his needs, satisfy his desires, and give him milk whenever he needs it. A weaned child, though, begins to see his mother as a person to be loved for her own sake. A weaned child isn't a baby anymore, but has matured enough to be content and happy just to be at his mother's side.

We shouldn't pretend that we rule the universe. Nor should we act like babies, whining and crying to get our own way. We need to stop grabbing at God with an attitude that says, "Lord, what will you do for me?" Instead, we need to walk with him in love and say, "Lord, what can I do for you?"