Your Presence
O LORD, you examine me and know me.
You know when I sit down and when I get up;
even from far away you understand my motives.
You carefully observe me when I travel or when I lie down to rest;
you are aware of everything I do.
Certainly my tongue does not frame a word
without you, O LORD, being thoroughly aware of it.
You squeeze me in from behind and in front;
you place your hand on me.
Your knowledge is beyond my comprehension;
it is so far beyond me, I am unable to fathom it.
Where can I go to escape your Spirit?
Where can I flee to escape your presence?
Psalm 139:7
We are journeying verse by verse through Psalm 139. To read last week’s reflection, click here.
It is sadly possible to live in the same space with another yet not pay attention to them. We can all be so busy coming and going, preoccupied with our own concerns, that we simply exist side by side. Eventually, our faces become a blur in the passing days and nights. We are but dimly aware of each other’s countenance and the joy we could have in each other’s presence. How much more do we race past the Lord?
Presence means face, countenance. Particularly, in Psalm 139:7, it means a face that turns toward one in love and favor.
When I was a girl, every Saturday we would make the one-hour drive from our valley, over a mountain, and to the valley where my great-grandmother lived. After my mother parked the car, I would run up the hill to Ma’s green-gabled house and shout, “Ma! Ma! I’m here!” No matter what she was doing, she would turn her wrinkled, wizened face toward me, grinning from ear to ear with unconditional love, her arms spread wide.
Our faces, turned toward one another with attentive love, are presence.
God’s face is turned toward us with attentive love, even as we run the other way, trying to avoid His fully examining, knowing love. #presence Share on XTo be looked at with such love, with complete knowing, can be terrifying or comforting. Yet this is how God looks at us.
Immanuel, God with Us, told a story of such face, such presence. He described a father who looked into the face of a son bent on running away. Jesus related the tale of this kind father’s long wait, looking down an empty road as his son spent his inheritance. As his son lost all friends and found himself alone, the father’s face remained turned toward him, waiting. As his son ate with the pigs, his father stayed at his post. As the impoverished son made his way back down the road to home, the father’s face broke into joy as he ran to him, never withdrawing his presence from the rebel, but bent toward him with love and welcome.
We cannot escape God’s presence. He made the earth and all that is in it. The birds that fly over you singing are declaring His presence. The oxygen we breathe is a figure of the breath of God, His Spirit, which He breathed into humanity. The sun that rises and sets every day declares the presence of a faithful Father, waiting for you and me.
Our busyness cannot nullify God’s presence. Our fearful preoccupation will not make Him retreat to a corner of heaven. Our sin will not make Him abandon His post. He is waiting, and He is watching. He longs to be our dwelling place, and if we will stop today and turn our face toward Him, we will find Him right where He’s been all along. With us.
Stop waiting for God to show up. He’s already here. It’s time for us to stop, pay attention, and turn our faces toward the One whose face has ever been turned toward us with love.
Photo by Luba Ertel on Unsplash
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