O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. (Psalm 139:1)

Do you ever feel this desire to be known, really known? I do. I’m good at hiding who I am, thanks to Adam and Eve.

But lately there’s been this longing…

So I went to Psalm 139 because I wanted to understand how the Lord knows me.

And here’s what I discovered:

When I sit and when I rise, my going out, my lying down…basically the Lord sees what my body is doing at all times—He knows my location, where to find me. Someone who knows your every move would have a lot of knowledge about you. In fact, no human can know you this way.

The Lord knows when I sleep in, how long I read the newspaper, when I’m at the piano, when I walk the aisles of the super market in the company of strangers, when I’m driving on the freeway alone…

You perceive my thoughts from afar. Not only is the Lord aware of my every outward move, He tracks each inward one as well. Again, no human can do this, thank goodness.

You hem me in behind and before.

“Behind” —God inhabits my past
“Before” —God inhabits my future
“You hem me in” —God inhabits my present

The Lord surrounds me!

Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there… Perhaps Paul was thinking of this Psalm when he penned Romans 8:38:

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Though I flee to the farthest corner of the world “even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.”

It occurred to me that you could feel claustrophobic at the thought of God, the ever-present Eye in the Sky, hovering over your life like the nightmare in Brave New World.

But I came to this conclusion: our relationship to the Lord plays an important role in whether we find this psalm comforting or unsettling. For those who have not made peace with God, the thought of His omni-Presence may bring fear, a sense of condemnation and resentment. The God of Psalm 139 could come off looking like a frightening stalker.

But for those who love Him and believe in His forgiveness and goodness, the Lord’s nearness is a comfort. Because we know He accepts us unconditionally, His constant presence makes us feel protected, secure, loved and cared for. We sense that He invites us to bring Him our deep reservoirs of need for intimacy. This is why His absolute presence in all aspects of our lives is not terrifying but reassuring.

After all, when you deeply love someone, you can’t be close enough…

I’ve been thinking about gratitude lately. I have to admit that sometimes I’m a little afraid to be thankful because whenever I list my blessings, I experience a heightened awareness of what it would mean to lose them.

This awareness always leads me to a deeper appreciation of the enduring gift Jesus is to me. No fear rises up when I think about my spiritual blessings because they are eternal and cannot decay or be lost.

So this Thanksgiving, I reflect on Christ, my greatest treasure, one that will never lose its value, rust, or fade, but will remain mine forever. I rejoice because:

He has forgiven me of all my sins
He is my perfect righteousness
He approves of me
He meets my deepest need for intimacy
He has made me His own
He is loyal to me
He understands me from the inside out
He empathizes with my weakness
He esteems me
He treats me as a friend
He meets my need for belonging
He includes me in his plans
He invites me to work with him
He bestows honor and dignity on me like a princess
He delights in me
He makes me beautiful
He is my perfect, undiminished joy
He is my way
He is my truth
He is my life
He is my security
He is my protector
He is my provider
He redeems my past
He is my companion in the present
He is my future
He is building a home for me where we will be together forever.

I am deeply grateful to be so loved…

I don’t know about you, but do you ever get tired of all the Christian talk about dying to self? “Deny yourself. Take up your cross. I have been crucified with Christ…”

Recently my thoughts ran something like this: I am dying to self. Not perfectly, but enough for me to resent it. I’m sick of all the dying; where is abundant living? Bring on the pity party!

Not the submissive little lamb willing to go silently to the slaughter. Baaa!

What to do with my rebellious, woolly self? I trotted over to the Good Shepherd and bleat all my frustrations about Christian living to him.

And He led me to a luscious green pasture of new insights.

First of all about this dying life I don’t like so well. “Want an exchange?” the Shepherd asked. “How about my life for yours.” Well…that sounds better. His life for mine? Really? That could include all kinds of adventures! I liked that He was talking life here, not death.

Of course you can’t get around dying once you’re on this planet. Just as you can’t avoid physical death, you can’t avoid emotional deaths or losses.

But now I considered Jesus. “But for the joy set before Him he endured the cross…” Abundant life was His ultimate destination, not the cross.

I desperately want life, don’t you? I crave it. I thirst for it. Let me overcome so that I may possess it! May Christ’s life swallow up death in me.

So I saw that death, in its many forms, is simply something you encounter enroute to life. Valleys to pass through on the journey home. And somehow this helped me.

My new perspective: We choose to live either a “living death” or a “dying life.” There are no alternatives. However, the word we place at the end of the phrase makes all the difference in the world.

Perhaps I paid little attention to Psalm 23 because it is so well-known. Besides, I considered it mainly a comfort for terminally ill folks. Beautiful poetry, but not yet for me.

But this year I discovered Psalm 23 as a comfort to those of us who travel valleys in the shadows of loss and disappointment.

Grieving losses can be excruciating. Saying goodbye to a dream, a certain way of life, or an important relationship is never easy. What losses are you facing?

But even though I walk through the valley of what feels like a “living death,” I will fear no evil, for you are with me…

Often we enter this valley through unmet expectations. A friend of mine commented once, “The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want, but…I always want.” We have trouble being content and do not easily “lie down in green pastures.”

In the valley we struggle with anxiety and turmoil. We wonder if we are seeing things as they are and question our perspective. We can get disoriented, confused, and stuck in our grief.

Will we trust the Good Shepherd to guide us safely out of the valley remembering “he leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake”?

In the valley of the shadow, Lord, you prepare a table before me, nourishing me with your Word, the Bread of Life and the wine of your Presence.

In the valley of the shadow, you anoint my head with oil, placing on me your seal of love, approval, and blessing.

In the valley of the shadow, my cup of joy overflows as I meditate on the goodness and love that has followed me all the days of my life.

In the valley of the shadow, I embrace the hope of dwelling with You in your house forever and ever, rejoicing that all shadows are guaranteed to pass.