I See You

Psalm 139

 

(Paraphrase of Psalm 139)

 

      God you know me inside and out. Every thought that enters my mind, every step, every plan, every word, you know before they happen. You know my past; you know my future. You witness my every move. Usually that comforts me, but not always.

      There seems no way to escape you. In the midst of joy I discover you are already there. When I plunge into despair you are waiting for me. It doesn’t matter where I go, you are there. Even in my darkest nights you point toward the morning.

      You were present when I was born. Nothing about me, from beginning to end, is hiden from your eyes. How frightful, yet how wonderful this has become.

      You know my heart; you ponder my thoughts; you search out my motives; you understand my emotions. Deliver me from that which might hurt me or others. Guide me along your path of truth and love.

     

      When my grandson Andy, was a child I would stand at a distance as he was playing with his mom or dad. When he looked my way, I would point and quietly mouth the words, “I see you.”  Andy would break into a huge grin and point back. There is something special, even intimate, about being known.

      We should remember this when we think of our relationship with God.  Often our image of God begins and ends with the God of creation, the God who is invincible, immortal and wise.  Certainly this image is critical in our understanding God because it serves to remind us that God is always beyond our comprehension and control.  To quote the Westminster Confession, “God is most holy and most free.” This is why God is God and we are not. Yet, don’t we secretly desire to understand God as the One who points at us, and mouths the words, “I see you.”

      Of course that can be a bit alarming.  Who among us wants to be thoroughly examined?  Each November I visit my doctor for a yearly physical.    It is a relatively painless exam in which some blood is taken, numbers recorded, and conclusions drawn about the state of my health.  Usually everything is fine but don’t you hate it when the good doctor looks at the coded language gathered from scales and test tubes, wrinkles her brow, and says, “Hmmmmmm.”  

      There is something frightening about being intimately known.   I like my secrets. I will never be a face-book sort of guy.   Some things are just too personal and that is the way I want to keep them. Sometimes I think my relationship with God would be a little less intimidating if God just remained attached primarily to the affairs of the universe.  It must be a full time job just making Jupiter and Mars orbit correctly. We have had 90 degree heat every day this month. Shouldn’t God be looking into that? Certainly God has better things to do than examine my inner being? Besides, I am not real excited about what the lab results on my faithfulness and purity might reveal.  

      The poet recognizes our panicked impulse to flee this personal examination by God.  He writes, “Where can I go from your spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?”  How do I live with the all-knowing eye of God? 

Let me share some names with you.  Mrs. Johnson, Mrs. Cartledge, Mrs. Rodgers, Mrs. Gardner.  You know these people, only by different names.  When I was a boy growing up in Greensboro NC, I would hop on my bike and make my way outside the restrained confines of my yard.  Alone with friends I would feel free to express myself in ways that might not be quite acceptable by parental standards.   I soon discovered in a small community parenting is a shared event.    I could escape the watchful eye of my mother, but not the vigilant eye of every other mother in the neighborhood.  What made things worse was the mothers had formed a united front.  If I was in Mrs. Johnson’s yard, I was now Mrs. Johnson’s son, with all the rewards and punishments that came with that honor.  Even when my friends and I believed we had “pulled a fast one” communication through the telephone wires was faster than the transportation that brought me home.  There was no fleeing from the presence of that Orwellian confederation. I never appreciated the efforts of that united front until I had children of my own.  Looking back, I realize the eyes that I tried so hard to escape actually informed the hands that lifted me out of more than one difficult situation.

      “O Lord, you have searched me and known me.” I know that should be a comforting thought, but in my spiritual growth I am still little more than a child.  I was raised by a Jewish Calvinist.  That makes no sense unless you have met my father.  From the moment of birth I have been instructed to strive to know God.  Calvin asked, “What is the chief aim of man?”  His response was “To know God by whom we are created.”  For centuries when students would come to their Rabbi and brag of their knowledge of the torah, the Rabbi would remind them, “First, we are created to know God.”   I have spent much of my life trying to comprehend or make sense of this mystery called God.  My journey has looked like the child in the Family Circle cartoon.  I have meandered here and there, experimented with this and that, at times felt certain of my answer, while other times felt lost in my questions. I have fallen short in my search yet always felt strengthened by the journey.  Psalm 139 comes along and unravels my lifetime search with a single affirmation, “God knows you.”  That hardly seems fair.  What do I really know about God beyond the mystery of God’s grace?  The Psalms tell us God is gracious, forgiving, steadfast in love.  But I can only give thanks for that.  I can’t touch it, I can’t feel it, I can’t even prove it.  Paul tells us that God is in Christ.  I believe this, I celebrate it, I live my life according to Paul’s proclamation. But are knowing and believing the same thing?  In this quest of identities, God always has the upper hand.  If a level playing field is what we desire than perhaps we should play somewhere else because first, God knows us deeper than we know ourselves, and second, God chooses to remain a mysterious force, only partially revealed in burning bushes and still small voices.

      As a child, how could I possibly understand my parents keeping an eye on me even when I chose to leave the safety of their garden?  As a child of God,  I am sometimes unnerved by that eternal eye from which I can not flee.    In my imperfect state, God’s constant presence often fills me with as much guilt as comfort.  I know that to be my insecurity rather than God’s intention and yet it is my reality.

      Needing to understand, wanting to be claimed by mercy and grace, I again turn to the poet for help.  He writes, “Such knowledge of God is too wonderful for me; it is so high I can not attain it.”  This Psalmist has reached a plateau in his relationship with God in which God is the one who understands him beyond any desire the writer has to be known. Left with no other choice, the poet surrenders to both God’s wisdom and compassion.   His desire to know God was not defeated.  He was simply overwhelmed by the wonder and grace of this entity we have come to know as Yahweh, Jehovah, the Almighty One.

      When we have lost our way… when with deliberate intent we have turned our back on truth and peace… when we are overcome with mounting anxieties and ever deepening frustrations… when in our loneliness we have sat in despair, too weak to move, too fatigued to lift our head, God has searched us and found us.  While we cannot escape God’s Scrutiny, neither can we escape God’s Love.  God breaks into our busy ….confused …..imperfect…. ordinary lives, and whispers , “I see you; I am still with you; you are going to be OK.”

      And we smile, for what else can we do?  There is something special, even intimate, about being known.

      To God be the glory.      Amen.