The Searching God (Psalm 139)

“You look just like a Bell!”

A bit of context:  My grandmother Hugenot’s maiden name was “Bell”.  Her family was quite large with nine brothers and sisters.  The family tree was quite populated with cousins and more cousins galore.  One cousin looked at my dad and said he looked very much like many of the other family members.  Look at the old family photographs, and you will see the “Bell family” facial features have passed down over the years. 

Around the funeral and the reception afterwards, I spoke with family members I have not seen since the late 1980s.  Why so long ago?  My grandparents moved the family to southeast Kansas back in 1947, and the family get-togethers with the “Bell” side of the family became less frequent.  Like most families, funerals became the biggest reason that the family gathered together (and in our case, made the four and a half hour journey across the state).  (That’s right, you drive 4-5 hours in Vermont, and you are in Canada.  In Kansas, you’re still in Kansas….)

It was also an odd feeling to step away from family conversations out at the cemetery for the graveside services to get ready to officiate.  In that moment of getting on my suit jacket (yes, even in 100 degree relentless Kansas heat), shuffling my notes, and then escorting the casket from the hearse to the grave, I felt myself shift into the minister’s role.  In that moment, for many of the family members, they saw “Vernon and Pat’s son” (from the far flung tribe of Bells on the other side of the state) in a different light.  “Pastor” Hugenot was ready to start the services.

I did not cease being “family” altogether in that moment.  Even though I utilized some of the same service prayers and scriptures I use for many other funerals, even though I have officiated at many funerals, there was an unmistakable catch in my voice as I eulogized my cousin’s life.  Giving thanks for the gift of my cousin’s life to the family, to the many students he taught, and his love of life, how could I not feel the loss, the absence that such a moment brings to light? 

The relationship between my cousin and me made these feelings of sadness and loss stir within me.  I felt his loss tremendously, because of the time together, the many times over that he offered support and affirmation.  (Not much went by in my life that he had not been close at hand:  graduations—high school, college, seminary, our wedding, my ordination, even sat here in the pews just about two years ago while visiting us on vacation.)   As one sympathy note I received said, “I know your cousin was very close to you.  Keep his memory close to your heart.”   I take this as a good word, as he was more to me than a “second cousin” or just a name on the family genealogy.   We had a good relationship.

Not every relationship (kinfolk or otherwise) can be described this way.  Relating to others can be a challenge, sometimes just short of nigh impossible.  For every “good” story of relationships gone well, there are many more tales of relationships gone awry.  We could pass the microphone around this morning, and very likely, we’d nod our heads at points in the stories others tell, hearing within their story our own experiences with people being difficult, or tales of estrangement or arguments blown out of proportion.  Heart ache and exasperation can describe some relationships we have more easily than terms of enrichment or endearment. 

That is why I believe the 139^th Psalm can be difficult for some folks to read.  The psalmist uplifts his relationship with God as one given over to a deep and abiding trust in God.  It is hard enough for humans to relate to one another.  For some reading this psalm, the idea that God and humanity’s connection is so intimately entwined would be hard to believe.  How can God, if God exists, be over all Creation, yet have the ability, let alone the interest, to take such pride and interest in my life?  If such a God exists, why is God bothering with me?

In the 139^th psalm, the psalmist continually refers to God “knowing” us.  Wherever we go whatever time of day, God is said to “know” us.  To “know” is more than a passing knowledge or surface understanding.  The psalmist claims that God knows us in full, something even we ourselves might struggle to know.  In other words, God knows exactly who we are.  God sees everything.

Again, for some persons, this might not come as a good word at first, as some people have grown up with a very negative understanding of the God of the Bible.  God as “judge” comes readily to mind for many of us, especially with acquaintance in more conservative Christian upbringings.  In such a worldview, God stands over the world with a bit of an eternal scowl, wondering what’s going on with this half-baked humanity down below. 

This view is poked at by the animated show King of the Hill.  While the show was on the air, the show writers created a book on parenting supposedly written by the lead character Hank Hill.  In one passage, Hank describes the best way to help your child learn how to behave.  Hank suggests that you talk with your child about how God sees everything you do.  Then he suggests you leave the room and close the door.  Stand in the hallway and wait a few minutes.  Then shout, “He saw that!”

Such an understanding of God harbors within many people I know.  If there was any “community service” a church could render, it could be to serve as a place where God is understood as one with authority and “final say”, yet also known for exercising all of this as part of God’s innate goodness, grace, and most importantly, mercy. 

This psalm celebrates that each of us is of interest and delight to God.  The psalmist traces the beginning, middle, and end of human life, claiming that God is with us each day, through each stage of life.  A modern day hymn celebrates this concept by claiming that God was there “to hear your borning cry” and will be there “when you are old”.   So it is likewise with the psalms of ancient Israel, as this psalm heralds and delights in the God who knows us from beginning to end.

The 139^th Psalm celebrates God as known to the experience of ancient Israel.  In this psalm, we encounter the God of the Hebrew Scriptures, where it is said that this is the God (capital “G”) who is said to have created the Universe, the God who led the people out of captivity in Egypt, the God who abided even through the years when the people wandered in the wilderness or suffered through years of the people’s straying after false gods.  The psalmist knows these stories and finds in the faith of Israel, an abiding trust in the Lord, the one who is faithful when we fall short, the one who can be trusted even when we falter in returning that trust.  For this psalm, it is God alone who supports and sustains us without fail.  You are part of God’s beloved creation.  In you, God finds delight.

Throughout the psalm, the psalmist speaks of the many ways we are known to God.  This relationship between human and divine is unshakable, at least on God’s side of things.  As for the human side, we can certainly choose to wander or stray away from the path God lays out before us.  God is still there for us, the one who created us and knows us so well.  It is a relationship that perhaps we do not deserve, yet it is one that is given us as gift and grace from the Lord. 

The psalmist turns from his celebration of God at work in his life to a prayer that he can now voice before the Lord.  He moves from God as knower of his ways to asking God to know God’s ways.  The psalmist asks, “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”
          In praying such a prayer, we recognize that not all of our ways are in line with the ways of God.  Such a desire allows us to begin to rise above our pride, our narrowness, and the places where our eyes and heart fail to see what God sees.  Such a prayer shapes a different sort of life, where the failings of human habits (the ones that usually make our relationships difficult) start ebbing away and leaves the better paths that God sets before us.  We open ourselves to a more fulfilling life, letting God be at the center of our lives.