Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. (Psalm 139:7-12)
After
describing God in terms of how aware of
us and person He is, the psalmist turns his attention to himself. I’ve often
thought this part of the song didn’t belong. It would make sense if the psalmist
wrote about God being present if he’s abducted and taken to the far side of the
sea, or in the dark, but he wrote about fleeing and hiding. God has been
wonderful and attentive, and the psalmist was running away.
But
isn’t that just what Adam and Eve did? And the Israelites? Haven’t we heard,
read, or seen story after story about someone running away from “the love of
their life”? For years, I’ve recognized that when I meet someone, I’m likely to
start into what I call my “Freak Routine.” I do my best to convince the person what
a strange person I am, so that they walk away from the friendship now instead
of waiting until their friendship matters to me.
What
this means is that this passage makes complete sense. God attends, befriends,
and even pursues, and we run away. This doesn’t have to be “Hound of Heaven” intensity.
God can also woo, but the point is that our running is a waste of time. And
when, as in the stories, the beloved stops running, he/she discovers how truly
loved he/she is. That may not mean that our running has ended forever. The fear
can return, and the habit can kick in. We may not realize that we’re running
again until we find ourselves running into His arms again.
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