This is the second post in a series of reflections on Psalm 139.
Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
Father, to be known by you is at the same time horrifying and comforting.
That you know me better thank I know myself—that you know every word before it’s spoken, every intention and bent of my heart, every desire that rejects your ways. I tremble and scramble for fig leaves—or a filter, or somebody to like what I’ve photoshopped. Any disguise will do as long as it obscures me from my view. Yet you see me. And you know me. No matter where I flee, no matter what I pursue to evade you, your presence remains an unwelcome mirror. And I hate its reflection.
All the while you assure me that even though you know me, you love me still. For you are the One who formed me, who crafted me, who called me into life so that I might know you and be known by you.
Is it really true? I’m prone to doubt it, slow to discard my disguise fearing I’ll be dismissed because I know I’m hideous. But you see me and you love me. And you invite me to see me as I am, as you have made me to be. Though I confess, I’m a mess. I’m not who you’ve created me to be. Oh, One who knows me, give me eyes to see myself in the light of Your love that I might repent of the ways I’ve rejected your design and follow you in the way everlasting.