He Knows
Psalm 139, in its entirety, has been a pillar to me over the years, especially verses 1-5.
“Oh Lord, you have searched me, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, Oh Lord. You hem me in - behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me.”
I’ve been encouraged while reading, strengthened by praying, and inspired as I’ve sung these words many times. Much rolls off my lips from memory. “You’re familiar with all my ways… you’ve hem me in – behind and before; you’ve laid your hand upon me.” Although recently, I found a whole new application for these truths.
Apparently, as a child, my grade school took part in an extensive long-term study. I was contacted 50 years later for a follow-up, which included a day in the hospital running all types of tests to collect data to track cardio and health exposers. All tests were free to me, so after filling out multiple surveys and signing release forms, I willingly showed up to be a guinea pig.
The blood draws left me a little lightheaded; I misread the instructions to fast for 24 hours beforehand, and fasted for 48 hours. The crazy number of questions on the psychological profile left me convinced I had early onset Alzheimer’s. The ultrasounds of heart, arteries and torso had me in and out of rooms and devices of all sizes. The day of tests culminated with a huge full-body MRI scan. Having no prior experience, I was surprised to see a huge cylinder-like machine with a conveyor belt coming out of the center. “You’re not freezing me like in some sci-fi interstellar space movie, are ya?”
Amused, the technicians ran through the steps, ending with “remain completely motionless while inside the machine.” Since I’m a rule follower, I complied. I was on the belt in a medical gown covered in blankets. My head was locked into a device to keep it from moving. Headphones and glasses were provided to make the process more tolerable. Once comfortable, the conveyor belt drew me in. I felt like I was being swallowed. While not claustrophobic, the tight confines had me wondering. “Now remember,” the technician said through a microphone, “keep your eyes open, focus on the screen above and don’t move. If you do, we’ll have to recalibrate.” He described what would happen, and how I was to respond, and told me to just relax.
Wanting to please, I said I’d try, then asked, “How long is the procedure going to take?” He replied, “All said and done, probably 45-50 minutes.” What? I thought. That’s a long time in these cramped quarters.
Hiding God's words in your heart is all about finding Him
As I lay there, calming myself, I tried to recite the familiar Psalm 139 in my mind. I had nearly rehearsed it all when the microphoned voice broke in saying, “We’re having trouble with the computer software, should just take a minute to reset.” But it didn’t, it took 35 minutes! All the while I remained motionless staring at the screen, repeating Psalm 139 to focus my mind. “We apologize for the delay, I think we’re ready now, here we go.”
The volume and vibrations were intense; even my rings danced on my finger. A series of visual tests left me mentally fatigued while my motionless body ached. In between these brief tests, I kept repeating in my mind, You hem me in-behind and before, you have laid your hand upon me. It felt soothing to repeat. I’ve never had a phrase looping in my mind that was so fitting for the situation.
Just then, a voice from far away said, “Russell, are you ticklish? We need to reposition the oxygen sensor on your big toe.” “Ah, yes, very”, I whimpered. “Oh, sorry,” the nurse said as she grabbed my foot. It took every bit of willpower I had to remain relatively still and it struck me as funny.
That wasn’t the kind of “hand” I was expecting to have “laid on me” and it got me giggling on the inside and I couldn’t stop. So much so, that my body was shaking, tears dripped down my face, and my nose began to itch. I was sure my uncontrollable snickering would mess up the calibration and we’d have to repeat something, but after a few more minutes I heard, “Ok, we’re finished.”
I emerged from my electromagnetic cocoon nearly 90 minutes later, with a newfound appreciation for wide-open spaces, and a desire to laugh long and loud.
“Sorry for the extra time in there, you did great.”
“That’s good, because I’d rather not do that again.”
I exited with joy, having done my duty, and internally gave a wink at God. “I see what You did there.”
Memorizing scripture makes room for God’s thoughts within, both “behind and before.” What I wasn’t expecting was His “hand” and sense of humor “laid on me” in a moment of surprise.
Hiding God’s words in your heart is all about finding Him, no matter the circumstances. He’s familiar, present and knows completely. Are we really hiding anything from Him?