Like a 'Weaned Child' is My Soul Within Me?
A provocative biblical metaphor that gives insight into the (often painful) path towards spiritual maturity, free from anxiety and striving
Greetings Glory Carriers!
This is the first newsletter of the New Year and I hope you’re off to a good start? If you’re anything like me, January always feels a bit like a roller coaster - the highs and lows of both excitement and overwhelm. For the last several years my husband and have developed a bit of a catch phrase we say to ourselves this time of year:
Just show up.
So I say to you, my friend. Just. Show. Up. And we’ll all be fine.:)
An Unexpected Topic
Well, I had planned to write on another topic this week, but as I sat down to write, a different one bubbled up to the door of my soul as if knocking to get out.
At first, it seemed a little too personal. Too private. Provocative in nature, even. But as I revisited my purpose for this space - writing to help hearts and homes stay grounded and growing in their faith - I realized that includes my commitment to write about things that are deeply personal and happening to me in real time. Things I am working out and wrestling through. Opening up my life to you - the good, the bad, and the ugly - as a way of remaining transparent along a journey of ‘messy sanctification’1 we are are all on - as a way to learn and grow together.
So at the risk losing some of you to a topic that may feel irrelevant or way too personal (TMI!), I promise there is spiritual relevance and application for us all.
That Dreaded Time Again
I gazed down into his gray-blue eyes into what I knew would be the last time from that exact angle. My heart sang with relief as I thought about the newfound freedom I would have untethered to the nourishment needs of this dear little soul dependent on me and my body for the last 24 months. And by heart also sank with grief as I said good-bye to yet another sweet and precious season of knowing my baby in this deeply intimate way.
It was that dreaded time again… to wean. This was my fourth child, which meant in the past eight years, I had accrued close to 2,920 days of nursing. It had become as common and as comfortable to me as breathing. Well, almost. I am one of those people who really enjoyed the experience and privilege of nursing my babies, though I write this with the upmost sensitivity, as I know that is not the case for everyone and the experience can often be riddled with pain and disappointment. But for me in that moment, I was saying good-bye, probably forever, to this cherished way of connecting with and comforting my babe.
Relief and grief, side by side.
A Lonely Dark Night
We had our plan set: that first night I would sleep on the couch outside the bedroom, so when my son awoke in the night at his usually 3am wake-up (that we could never seem to kick), my husband would take him into the bedroom and seek to comfort him without me there. In his two years and seven days of life on this earth, he had not yet known a day without the comfort of mama...and her milk…which meant it was probably going to be a rough night.
And it was.
All I could hear behind the closed doors were his muffled cries, “Mamaaaa!!” He moaned. He groaned. He fretted. He sobbed into the night (while my husband did an award-worthy job of trying to sooth him). And all I could do - knowing that the weaning process was a necessary good for his growing dependence and development - was remain outside the door. And deny my baby the only source of comfort and nourishment he’d ever known.
Gut. Wrenching.
Yet while laying there alone on the couch during that dark and difficult night, I randomly recalled a Scripture verse I had come across recently in which the psalmist says,
“But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me. (Psalm 131:2)
Even though this was the fourth child I was weaning (I should be an expert by now right?), this verse provided fresh vision and encouragement of the benefit this age old practice of weaning would surely bring my child. Images of my son as a weaned child in a state of calm, quiet and contentment in my presence - after the initial difficulty and denial of the early stage had passed - filled my mind and it gave me peace. It got me through that first long dark and lonely night.
And it also led me into a deeper reflection: What did it mean that the psalmist’s soul was like a weaned child?
A Metaphor for Our Souls
It fascinated me that the psalmist used the image of a weaned child as a metaphor - not originally intended to comfort a literal mother weaning her child (though it did do that!) - but to teach us something about the potential and desired state, or goal rather, of our souls.
“Surely I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with his mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me.” (Psalm 131:2)
It hit me that just like a weaned child becomes quiet and content in the presence of his mother (without the desperate need to nurse), so our souls desire and are actually designed for such a state in the presence of our Heavenly Father.
But this state of peace and calm, rest and trust, doesn’t just happen on its own.
The Painful ‘Weaning Process’ is Necessary for Growth
As I listened to my son cry out that night, I understood anew that our souls often have to go through the temporary discomfort of a ‘weaning process’ as we grow and develop into mature believers. As one commentator describes it,
“It is taken from a baby's first real sorrow when he not merely feels pain, but is allowed no access to that which was his solace hitherto. He moans, and frets, and sobs, but at last is quieted by the love which is powerful to soothe, even when it must deny.”
-Ellicott’s Commentary
Just like a child going through the initial painful process (emotionally and physically) of weaning, our souls can often be brought through a similar necessary ‘weaning process’ in order to go from spiritual infancy to maturity. This may look or feel like:
A real sense of being ‘denied’ the presence of God for a time
A usual comfort and warmth and nourishment found in God’s Word is seemingly suddenly withdrawn for a time
An intentional withdrawal or withholding of spiritual blessings and benefits
A sudden dryness to the previous vitality of your spiritual life
A sense of disorientation and perceived sense of God’s absence
Dear soul reading this, have you ever experienced a bewildering experience such as this? I certainly have and I didn’t know what to call it then. But now I know this can be identified as a process of spiritual weaning. And it is part and parcel to the spiritual life.
My Soul’s First and Painful Stage of ‘Weaning’
I experienced this for the first time in my mid-twenties a few years after having re-committed my life to Christ. I won’t go into the entire story now, but suffice it to say, it was a tangible sense of the withdrawal and denial of the usual comforts and solaces my soul had known from God up to that point.
And just like my son crying out in the night, my soul cried out to God: Where are you God? Why have you taken your presence from me? (see Psalm 42 for similar cries from the writer’s soul)
The spiritual ‘weaning process’ has been referred to by various theologians and spiritual writers throughout Church history, most notably by the 16th-century Spanish mystic and Catholic poet St. John of the Cross, who wrote of such a process in the spiritual life of a believer in his writings entitled, The Dark Night of the Soul.
It is worth a read how he articulates the different (often painful and perplexing) stages of development the soul can go through towards maturity. In my opinion, he puts words to inner phenomena that many Christians experience, but rarely talk about.
I had to persevere through the pain and confusion of that dark night of the weaning season - and a few others since then - like my son had to endure that initial pain of his own mother’s ‘denial’ through the dark night. But then…
Suddenly it Turns
Suddenly, almost like the turn of a switch, the child is no longer anxiously searching for that particular kind of solace and comfort found only at the mother’s breast. The child is suddenly able to stand on his or her own two feet. Quiet. Calm. Content. And able to receive love from the mother beyond physical nourishment needs. It is a beautiful and almost miraculous transition. This gives insight how our souls can transition into further stages of maturity as described in Ellicott’s commentary,
“Instead of fretting after what is too great for him, he quiets his ambition, and his spirit lies calm and gentle, like a child in its mother's arms, that after the first trouble of weaning is over is soothed and lulled by the maternal caress.”
What an image. Not only for myself as a mother caught in the throws of weaning, but as a believer who can be found ‘fretting after what is too great’ for me and whose ambition in this fallen world needs regular ‘quieting’.
This metaphor reflects a profound level of maturity and trust in God, where our souls, like a weaned child, are meant to find rest and satisfaction in the presence of the Lord, free from anxiety and striving.
O, how I long for that. Don’t you?
A Far Cry from Being Like a Weaned Child
I wish I could say this reflects the current state of my own soul. Rest and satisfaction in the presence of the Lord? Check! Free from anxiety and striving? Check! But admittedly, my soul is a far cry from being like that serene image of a weaned child. My soul often feels more like my son on that first anguished night! Riddled with angst, impatience, restlessness, and lack of trust of God’s provision and timing. Always needing something from him, rarely able to rest in him.
How about you? Is your soul in a state of quiet and contentedness (regardless of your circumstances) reflecting your trust in the Lord, or is it impatient and restless, anxiously and constantly making your demands on God?
Take a moment to peer into the state of your own soul.
Weaning is a Recurring Process in the Spiritual Life
Unlike a child, who only needs to be weaned once (thank God!), it is my experience that our souls must go through multiple ‘weaning stages’ throughout our development journey. It is a metaphor given to us in Scripture to help us understand what might be going on when we hit periods of dryness and disappointment in our spiritual life.
Could God be ‘weaning’ your soul away from a kind of dependency and desperation that needs certain provision at all times and into a level of trust and satisfaction found just by being in his presence?
Spiritual development isn’t something that is always neat and tidy, a ‘one and done’ kind of thing. How I wish it was. But the journey towards spiritual maturity it is often painful, messy, exposing, humbling and yes, ongoing!
But we can take heart, that as surely as I have witnessed that inevitable ‘turning point’ in my now four weaned children - when they suddenly cross over into the land of calm and contentment - we will eventually experience a similar crossing over of our souls into the land of peace and trust with God. We can trust God to work his vital purposes through that painful process of his denial and withdrawal.
God is the One Who Initiates the Weaning
One more insight I leave you with before we sign off for another week. My son didn’t choose to be weaned. He didn’t initiate the process. But he was gently brought into and guided through it - because as his mother, I knew that this weaning process was necessary to his growth and development.
I think it is the same with our souls. We don’t choose to go through a weaning process of experiencing a temporary denial of God’s comfort and provision. But when he discerns that his denial is the best thing for us - in whatever form that comes - we must yield to it, trusting that he will bring us to the other side. Where…
Quietness. Calm. Contentment. Stillness. Satisfaction. Of the deepest kind. Regardless of the circumstances. Await.
But We Are Called to Participate and Cultivate
And yet, the psalmist indicates he has indeed done something to facilitate the state of his soul,
“Surely I have stilled and quieted my soul…” (Psalm 131:2)
This implies action on his part. He is participating in the cultivation of his soul’s peace and contentment. And that is an invitation for us to do the same in our hearts and our homes. In fact, this is a vital principle on the path toward becoming a Home of Glory.
What can you do to cultivate the peace, calm, contentment and trust of a weaned child in your heart and home this year?
Limit your intake of news?
Reduce your scrolling on social media?
Read light-filled, hope-filled, truth-filled books?
Exercise physically and activate your endorphins?
Pursue peace with your loved ones and neighbors at all costs?
Choose to see the good God is working in his world?
Spend time being still, sitting quietly before the Lord, not asking of him, but just being with him?
These are just a few ideas. God initiates, but we are called to participate and cultivate our souls towards that image of a weaned child.
May this be that kind of year for my soul, and for yours, like a weaned child, as it will be for my son. Who is now…fully…and finally…weaned. There is relief and grief. But I can sing, “Hallelujah!”
For His Glory from My Heart and Home to Yours,
Ali
Fun Family Photos of the Week
This phrase was borrowed from my Substack friend, Jonathon Seidl
Really wonderful! I had not noticed the scriptural references related to necessary detachment, but I have certainly lived it. Beautifully shared! It is all for our good and His glory!
This is so beautiful. I listened to this Psalm this morning (which, of course, reminded me of weaning my own four kiddos.) So when I saw this in Notes, I had to read it. I absolutely love the parallels you draw. Thank you.