For the last few years of my life, Psalm 139 has been my favorite passage in the Bible. I knew it from past sermons and Bible studies, but it didn’t truly come to life for me until a couple of years ago.

I had been reflecting on my family of origin in my own personal counseling and had come face-to-face with some realities about my family’s relational dynamics that left my heart heavy. The word I would use to describe this heaviness is grief. I was finally feeling what I think I had always known: I never really felt known in my own home. There was an emotional and relational disengagement that left me without a deep experience of true intimacy.

Thankfully, Jesus has some beautiful words about grief. In Matthew 5, he says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” (v. 4). A day or two after that counseling session, I was brushing my teeth and going through my normal morning routine when Psalm 139 began playing in my mind. These words brought incredible comfort to my soul:

“O Lord, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path, and my lying down and are familiar with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether” (vv. 1–4).

In that moment, I felt the Holy Spirit paraphrase these words in a way that resonated with me like they never had before:

“I am not emotionally disengaged from you.”

I immediately began to weep.

These were words for a wound I didn’t know I had. Or maybe I knew it was there, but I didn’t realize how deep it went.

To live our lives feeling unknown is a wounding experience. Relational intimacy is arguably the hallmark of the Trinity. Father, Son, and Spirit have always known one another. I have often found myself pondering what they were doing before they created our world. The simplest and most compelling answer I can come up with is that they were simply enjoying one another—forever existing in a dance of love, honor, and delight.

Being made in their image, we were created to experience something of this kind of intimacy in our relationships. And yet, as part of the fallout of our alienation from God, we experience more distance not only from God, but from others, even within our own families. When our hearts remain unsearched by those closest to us, we go searching for connection, identity, and purpose.

The good news about Jesus is that he is the one who meets the deepest needs of the human heart. He fulfills what others have failed to provide. King David is not writing about Jesus himself in this passage, but we know that Jesus perfectly reflects the heart of God our Father. This psalm reveals the heart of a God who is not unaware of the hearts of his children.

Let’s briefly survey what this passage reveals about what God knows about us:

• He knows what we are thinking (v. 2).
• He knows our habits and patterns (v. 3).
• He knows what we are going to say before we say it (v. 4).
• He knows when and where we are prone to hide (vv. 7–12).
• He was intimately involved in the forming of our bodies (vv. 13–16).

To sum it up: God knows us inside and out.

Now, it is one thing to be known. It is another thing to be known and loved.

Life outside of Eden is marked by many things, but I would argue that one of its most significant characteristics is our propensity to hide. The first thing humanity’s parents did in the Garden of Eden after eating from the forbidden tree was hide. They covered themselves with fig leaves and hid among the trees. To have our brokenness, our pain, and the shameful parts of our hearts laid bare is a terrifying feeling.

Yet what a difference true love makes.

God sees the hiding, the hurting, the brokenness, and everything in between, and he gazes upon us with unshakable love. To be known without love is to be shamed. To be known and loved is to be secured.

Yahweh knows and loves.

David trusts this. That is why, by the end of the psalm, he invites God to examine him even further:

“Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” (vv. 23–24).

He knows he is safe.

One way this psalm changed my relationship with Jesus was that, after internalizing the reality of his knowledge of me, I became much more honest with him. My prayer life had been “religious” and “sanitized.” I told God what sounded good and what I thought he wanted to hear. I avoided my own feelings and simply mouthed prayers that were worthy of a pulpit or a mediocre small-group Bible study. I wasn’t pouring my heart out to him, trusting that he was a safe place (Psalm 62:8). 

Psalm 139 changed that for me. I began to think, “Well, if he already knows, then why don’t I just say it?”

What a difference it has made. 

My prayers feel more real. More honest. And I feel like I’m actually having a conversation with him.

To the dear soul who is reading this, whoever you might be: can I invite you to make yourself known to God today?

Where are you ashamed?

Where are you broken?

Where are you lost?

Will you make that known to God today?

You will not be shamed.

His grace has and will forever secure you.

May God bless you and keep you, and may the light of his face shine upon you.

Amen.