Psalm 139, Emotions, and Absolute Truth

This summer, I've been reviewing Psalm 139 to memorize it again (it has been about eight years since I first did). The newness of it strikes me - even though I've seen and thought the words countless times, they still bring fresh comfort and insight as God uses them to meet me in my current circumstances.

One part in particular has shined a light onto my thoughts and feelings this summer:

If I say, "Surely the darkness will overwhelm me, 

And the light around me will be night," 

Even the darkness is not dark to You, 

And the night is as bright as the day. 

Darkness and light are alike to You. 

(Psalm 139:11-12)

What stands out to me in these verses is the contrast between the Psalmist's perception of reality and God's perception of it. David (the Psalmist) writes that he may very well feel overwhelmed by his circumstances. In fact, much like me quite frequently, he is anticipating feeling overwhelmed in the future, rather than expressing an emotion immediately present. I relate to this as a feeling of anxiety: worry about the future and the possibility of feeling overwhelmed by it.

By contrast, David recognizes that God has no such apprehension. To God, there can be no overwhelming circumstance. To God, light and dark are not even materially important. He is in charge of all things and knows all things, so night brings no unknowns, surprises, fear, or anxiety.

A few lessons are helpful to me here. First, David struggled with some of the things I struggle with. I'm not alone. Second, what he did with the struggle is what I should do: he prayed about it (since the psalm is essentially a prayer to God). Third, David recognized when he was not yet feeling overwhelmed the truth that God is sovereign, so that when he did feel overwhelmed, he could remind himself of this truth. The time to nail down the truth of God's power and comfort is now; I should take advantage of the mentally clear times to prepare for times that are more challenging emotionally by reflecting on truth.

Fourth, David says that he may perceive light to be night. In other words, his perception may be faulty. I think emotional distress or depression can cause us to perceive reality incorrectly. Even joyful things lose their luster when our distress takes over. On the other hand, God, who is perfect, perceives even the "dark" circumstances with total authority and control, directing them for His own purpose and His glory (also, as Paul writes, for the good of those who love Him, whom He has called!). His perception of reality is reality; He can never be mistaken.

I, along with David, can take comfort in His sovereignty. He is absolute truth, and reality is dependent on Him. He is wise and good, and He is loving, just, merciful, patient, gentle, powerful, and so many other wonderful things so perfectly that I cannot possibly comprehend Him altogether. Therefore, when my emotions are askew, and even good circumstances feel off somehow, and when I feel overwhelmed by challenges, let me remember the truth: God always sees light even if it is dark, and God always sees me, so in some sense I am always in the light.

Of course, Jesus is also called the Light, and if I am in Him, through faith in His sacrifice and resurrection on my behalf, I am in the Light in an eternal sense as well: I am always and forever in the Light. Nothing and no one can take this away.

I'm Writing My Own Rules

This is what my house looks like. At any given moment, I can count at least five pieces of paper on the floor, and that's only in one room. What ever happened to going paperless? And what is it with cats and knocking paper off of tables? Don't worry about the scattered toys, because my toddler is playing with them and they'll be shoved into boxes and put away onto the rugs once a week so my husband can mop the floors with his giant, manly, old-school mop (he insisted). Then the toys will make their appearances again, little by little, like an expanding ant hill, until the next tidying-up day. It's fine. She's only three for one year. Another three-year-old will take over again, and God only knows how many more after that, but still, each will only be three for one year. Boxes from deliveries (because Amazon) need to be collapsed and recycled. But - hey! - at least we have recycling here! Score. Sorry about the six or seven mateless shoes in the walkways and kitchen and laundry room and - oh, pretty much everywhere! No explanation. Maybe we need a system. I also think we need a bookshelf for the dining area because it has become the central location for listening to fun CDs, reading the story Bible at breakfast time, and checking recipe books. All of the necessary associated items live on our table for now. Speaking of tables, and eating, and dishes: Yes, the dishes are in progress. The laundry is also in progress. Don't worry about that; I do have a system worked out. We are not starving; we are not naked; we are healthy and learning all the time all together. We read a lot - again with the bookshelves - I think we need more. Is it possible to have too many books? Wait, no, what am I saying? Someone find my sense for me, please. While you're at it, grab my keys and take the van out to get some chocolate. I'll be here. Let's make this a regular thing. Chocolate every once-in-a-while to remind us to take a break and slow down and breathe and do some yoga and all of those good things. And, remember: one day it will just be us adults here with only memories of all the messes to keep us up at night.

Limitation as Relief from Anxiety

Many of God's attributes pertain only to Him and not to us humans, according to theologians. For example, only God is eternal, self-sufficient, omnipotent, and sovereign. In a book titled None Like Him: 10 Ways God Is Different from Us (and Why That's a Good Thing), Jen Wilkin describes ten of these attributes and why we as limited creatures can draw comfort, hope, and reassurance from the fact that they are true only of God.

Reading this book is showing me something my husband has been trying to tell me for almost as long as he's known me (sorry, honey!): my anxiety stems from my trying to control what I cannot control, know what I cannot know, and be what I cannot be. Essentially, I feel anxious when I reach the boundaries of my humanity and feel responsible for things outside those boundaries.

One night, my toddler was throwing fits at bedtime. At the same time, my infant was screeching loudly in my arms as my husband and I tried to wrangle the toddler into her bedroom for a peaceful routine that would lead to all-night sleep. Meanwhile, my anxiety level was climbing higher. I felt concerned that my baby was learning to scream from my toddler. I recognized as I reflected on the list of attributes pertaining only to God that I felt anxious because I was trying to be omniscient (Is my baby learning screaming from my toddler?) and sovereign (How can I stop this from happening?), when in reality I cannot be either of those things. When I stopped and noticed that I wasn't responsible to know the answer that I could not know or control the situation that I could not control, my shoulders relaxed a bit and some of the tension melted. Of course, some tension remained, as there were still a screeching infant and fit-throwing toddler to be dealt with.

Knowing the limits of my humanity and accepting instead of fighting them allowed me to be calmer and feel more peaceful, even in the midst of a trying moment. Wilkin writes that "[w]e are capable of bearing [God's] image as we were intended only when we embrace our limits." If I can stop trying to be God, I can reflect Him better. For me, as a person who struggles with anxiety, releasing that burden of incorrect responsibility - the burden of controlling and directing things that aren't mine to control and direct - is a huge relief.

As Wilkin succinctly puts it: "Because God owns everything, he is responsible for its care and has the right to do with it what he wishes." This is not to say that we do not have responsibility to care for the people and possessions God places into our little spheres of influence, but the ultimate responsibility rests with Him. The care that we take has boundaries and limitations based on our humanness, and these limitations should free us to love well, without worry.