Psalm 139:1-18

I was in 6th grade when a small group teacher challenged our circle of friends to memorize Psalm 139. I’m sure she taught insightful truths that year and had biblical advice to give us girls, but the only lesson from those weekly gatherings that remains in my heart to this day, is this chapter.

It’s one of the scriptures that sustained me through years of teenage self-doubts, pregnancy with our two boys, moving internationally, wrestling through anxiety, and walking in life’s unknowns.

These words came to me as I was studying recently, so I share with the hope that if you’re feeling unseen, unknown, or unsettled, you’ll take the original Psalm to heart.

Psalm 139:1-18, A Poem

Lord, how deep is your knowing:

Actions I take without thinking, every move, you are tracking.

Thoughts I’ll have- before their coming- you can see them arriving. 

Paths I’m on and where I’m sleeping, you know where those are going.

Words that my lips are still forming, you hear before I’m speaking.

Behind, before, and surrounding, your hand does all the holding.

And anywhere that I’m dwelling, Your Spirit’s present, leading.

Even darkness overwhelming, can’t hide me from your viewing.

You formed me with a belonging, knit-in since my beginning.

Handmade and built to be lasting, “So good!” you called your crafting.

My bones, in dark you were weaving, a temple for your dwelling.

Books opened up for your reading, each day you were preparing.

Thoughts too many for numbering, of me you’re always thinking.

Present even in my sleeping, I find you constant, keeping.

Why should I sing?

One of the ways that God has currently called me to serve our church is by being part of the team that leads worship. Because of that, I try to be alert to Scripture that refers to songs and music. Why do we sing? What is music’s purpose? And what if I don’t feel like singing? Won’t that make me fake?

Recently in my morning devotions, I came to Psalm 13:5,6: “But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord because He has dealt bountifully with me.”

Sometimes the dealings of the Lord with us don’t seem too bountiful. How often have I thought that I wouldn’t mind just a little more of His bounty in my life? A little more abundance? And then I could sing.

Yet, this Psalm didn’t start out from a place of overflow. In the opening, David questioned God, “how long will you forget me?…will I have sorrow in my heart all day?...how long will the enemy be exalted?” David feels forgotten, sorrowful, and victimized. Not really reasons to sing.

But.

His trust isn’t contingent upon God suddenly showing His face. His trust isn’t based on God immediately wiping away his sorrow or completely destroying his enemy. His trust is that God’s steadfast love endures when God is invisible; God’s steadfast love remains when sorrow is deep; God’s steadfast love holds him up when the enemy puts him down.

And David’s joy comes from a steady source: his salvation. Jesus pointed his disciples in that direction in Luke 10:20: “Nevertheless, do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” The source of our joy isn’t even having a good day of God working through us; rather, it’s our eternally secure salvation, rain or shine. 

“But God shows His love for us 

in that while we were still sinners, 

Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

“In this is love: not that we have loved God, 

but that He loved us and sent His Son 

to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins.” 1 John 4:10

The bountiful dealings of God toward us are His steadfast love and His gift of salvation. When we believe that, then even if we wake up next Sunday morning and feel like David in verses 1-4, our song raised in praise can still be authentic.

Back-to-School Prayer

Our boys started their sophomore and senior years in high school last Wednesday, but this is their first full week back. As I’ve thought about all of their commitments and their development in 2024-2025, these desires for them rise out of Psalm 90:14-17, and this is what I pray:

Satisfied Hearts: “Satisfy Gradyn and Jace in the morning with your unfailing love…” because there is so much offered to them that will only leave them empty, longing, and unfulfilled.

Singing Mouths: “...that they may sing for joy and be glad all their days. Make them glad for as many days as you have afflicted them, for as many years as they have seen trouble…” May the hard times be displaced by the joy they find in you so that instead of overhearing teenage complaints, negativity, and sarcasm, our ears catch them singing in the shower.

Saturated Eyes: “May your deeds be shown to your servants, your splendor to Gradyn and Jace…” Our eyes roam in search of splendor. Shield their eyes with the bright light of your presence and actions, so they’re more amazed by you than by anything else.

Steadied Hands: “May the favor of the Lord our God rest on them; establish the work of their hands for them- yes, establish the work of their hands.” Only by your grace can their effort this year mean anything. Let what they do make a difference in the direction of their lives, others’ lives, and for eternity.

May it be so.

Anti-psalm 27

When life has felt chaotic or overwhelming, I’ve found stability for my heart in Psalm 27. But what if the words written there were not my foundation - where would that leave me? Instead of supported, I’d be abandoned; instead of embraced, I’d be alone. Everything opposite of the Psalmist’s experience would be my reality:

The LORD is not my light or my salvation;

I have everyone to fear.

The LORD is not the stronghold of my life;

I have every reason to be afraid.

When evildoers assail me to eat up my flesh, my adversaries and foes,

It is I who stumble and fall.

When an army encamp against me, my heart fears;

When war rises up against me, I have no confidence.

I have not asked anything of the LORD, 

or tried to get close to Him for even one day of my life,

Because I don’t see beauty in Him or a reason to focus on Him.

He doesn’t shelter me in the day of trouble;

He doesn’t let me into his tent, but rather

He leaves me vulnerable.

My enemies exalt over me, and I have no reason for joy;

I have no song to sing.

He doesn’t hear a word from me, because I’m not crying out to Him.

He hasn’t asked me to seek Him, so I don’t.

He hides his face from me and turns me away in anger.

He hasn’t helped. He’s cast me off and forsaken me.

When my family rejects me, so does God.

I have nothing to learn from Him,

Alone on my crooked path, surrounded by enemies,

Given over to the will of liars and violent people.

I don’t believe in the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.

Don’t wait for Him; 

Be weak, and let your heart wilt.

Don’t wait for the LORD.

I hope you’ll check out Psalm 27 and let the light be even more precious to you because of its contrast to the darkness.

The Creator is here

I never understood the reassurance of nature until I lived in a place without much of it.  I didn’t realize how vaguely, yet steadily, all of creation whispers like a consoling background melody carried by the wind. But there are certain aspects of nature that shout, rather than sing, God’s name. 

Yesterday we returned from visiting Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks. Between the geological wonders of Yellowstone and the snow-capped peaks of the Tetons, I heard one proclamation as I stared in awe: The Creator is here.  

But can we hear that post-vacation, wherever we call home?

Home for my first 18 years of life was in the Adirondack Park, a six-million acre region of lakes and Pines and mountains in upstate NY. To this day, the remote town in which I was raised greets the passerby and native resident with its claim to fame proudly etched in its welcome sign: “Home of the 1964 national Christmas tree”. We’re known for our trees - or at least one of them, long ago.

I wasn’t someone who hiked the high peaks, portaged along rivers, or camped off the grid, so when I moved to a city of concrete high rises and asphalt streets, the absence of nature wasn’t a concern.    

Until it was. 

Gone were the landscape views I took for granted, and in their place, engineered structures and pavement. The question I dared not ask, plagued me when I walked the streets: Is God less present in this place?  At first, I wasn’t sure why I wondered such a thing. But then I found myself religiously catching the sunrise from our fifth story apartment, just to hear it speak. I craved nature, not solely for its beauty, but for its signature message, The Creator is here.

Scripture writers are not subtle when they point to creation as being descriptive of God, and they paint the most vivid imagery of Him through vast, expansive elements, such as mountains, seas, and sky. Mountains, dominating and immovable, melt like wax when the Creator reaches down to touch them. Seas, deep and unsearchable, are restrained by His hand to be contained when they surge. The sky, distant yet visible, He stretched out to declare His immeasurable character.

You might feel like the Creator is not where you are, surrounded by conifers or concrete, deserts or suburbs. You may be a thousand miles from the ocean or about that far from mountains, but one vast element of creation reaches where others do not and cannot be eliminated by man-made structures. 

Start looking up. The sky is speaking. For more, see Psalm 19.