In God Alone My Soul Is at Rest

Turning Toward Silence Like a Flower Toward the Sun

“In God alone is my soul at rest

My help comes from him.”

Lord, when I speak these words, something in me loosens its grip on the world. I feel the soul begin to descend into a place that is not yet silence but is turning toward it like a flower toward the sun. This psalm names a truth I barely dare to whisper: that my heart longs for the stillness that comes only from resting in You alone. Not in certainty. Not in reputation. Not in human approval. Only in You.

The psalmist knew that the world around him was loud and unstable, full of threats and inner agitation. So he turned inward, not to escape, but to stand upon the one place where the ground does not shift.

“He alone is my rock, my stronghold

I shall not be disturbed.”

Lord, if I am honest, I seek this rock because everything else in me trembles. I want to hear Your voice beneath all the other voices that crowd my mind. I want to enter the hidden place where fear loosens its hold and my heart remembers that You are near. This psalm reveals the hesychasterion as not merely a room or a cell but a state of the soul that rests on You even when the earth shakes.

“In God alone is my soul at rest.”

This is the cry of the one who has grown weary of the noise within and without. It is the cry of the monk who sits in his cell through the long night, whispering the Name until the heart grows soft. It is the cry of the wounded man or woman who realizes that healing does not come from self-defense but from surrender. It is the cry of anyone who hears Your call to the deep interior where the mind becomes quiet and the soul learns to stay.

Lord, teach me this resting. Unclench my hands. Free me from the restless need to solve everything, explain everything, carry everything. In the quiet repetition of this psalm let me learn the art of stillness. Let it become the doorway into the silence where You dwell.

“Pour out your heart before him

For God is our refuge.”

Here is the deepest wisdom of the psalm. Silence does not begin with emptiness. It begins with pouring out. All my fears. All my confusion. All my longing. All the contradictions that exhaust me. Teach me to lay them before You without shame or justification. Let this be the offering that prepares the heart for solitude. For only a poured-out heart can become a still heart.

Lord, if You will lead me into a Hesychasterion, begin here. Let Psalm 62 become my breath. Let its truth seep into the marrow. Let it strip away the false shelters I cling to and guide me into the one refuge that never collapses.

Make my soul silent before You.

Make my heart a small, hidden cell.

Make my life a quiet resting in Your love.

In God alone is my soul at rest.

Let it be true in me.