Psa. 139:1 GOD, investigate my life;
get all the facts firsthand.
Psa. 139:2 I’m an open book to you;
even from a distance, you know what I’m thinking.
Psa. 139:3 You know when I leave and when I get back;
I’m never out of your sight.
Psa. 139:4 You know everything I’m going to say
before I start the first sentence.
Psa. 139:5 I look behind me and you’re there,
then up ahead and you’re there, too—
your reassuring presence, coming and going.
Psa. 139:6 This is too much, too wonderful—
I can’t take it all in!
Unwanted – a mistake – bad seed – all these hurts – yet a knowing – someone – something is here with me. God, is that you?
I’ve tried to run away, hiding in the dark, changing my name, wanting to understand if life is so hard why am I here. Dreamer, they call me yet, deep within I hear a voice telling me not to be afraid – God is that you?
Psa. 139:7 -12
Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your Spirit?
to be out of your sight?
If I climb to the sky, you’re there!
If I go underground, you’re there!
If I flew on morning’s wings
to the far western horizon,
You’d find me in a minute—
you’re already there waiting!
Then I said to myself, “Oh, he even sees me in the dark!
At night I’m immersed in the light!”
It’s a fact: darkness isn’t dark to you;
night and day, darkness and light, they’re all the same to you.
I don’t know how I know that my life began before birth, but I do. There’s a sense of the beyond when I look at your creation – the great Orion calls out and says I know you…is that right? Is that you, God?
Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
you formed me in my mother’s womb.
I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking!
Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
I worship in adoration—what a creation!
You know me inside and out,
you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
before I’d even lived one day.
Psa. 139:17 Your thoughts—how rare, how beautiful!
God, I’ll never comprehend them!
Psa. 139:18 I couldn’t even begin to count them—
any more than I could count the sand of the sea.
Oh, let me rise in the morning and live always with you!
Thank you, God for making yourself known to me.