A broken and contrite heart, O God, You will not despise
But I still my soul and make it quiet, like a child upon its mother’s breast, my soul is quieted within me. Psalm 133:3
This house is absolutely still. No rattling, no rustling. Thick adobe walls.
Well, that is until the refrigerator kicked on its electronic rumble. And the alarm clock which was somehow set on a national disaster siren sound. The kitchen faucet started dripping. And even now, the keyboard is clicking. Pause. Clicking.
And life is full of tugs in all sorts of directions–some practical, some unworthy, and some from the pit of hell itself. And I have a choice.
To still my heart. To make it quiet.
And for this moment in time, the image of the babe on the mother’s breast, satiated and soaking in His love, is very potent. No thoughts about what lies around the curve in the road. No pretenses about being in control or in charge. No “If only I had said this.” At rest.
Choose for yourself this day whom you will serve.
As for me, I will serve the LORD.