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Knit

             For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. (Psalm 139:13-16)

This is from my favorite psalm, but I must admit that this has not been my favorite part of the psalm. I’ll share that tomorrow, though I’ve commented on it before. The ridiculous thing is that the only difference in focus is time. Today’s passage deals with the past; tomorrow’s deals with the present.

There are lots of ways you can describe me. I was a latchkey kid. I’m now a sort of hermit. I don’t think about how I fit in. I think in terms of how I don’t. That’s one of the reasons why I find socialism and the Borg so appalling, because they are all about my being part of a group of people, whether I like it or not, and whether they like it or not. Generally, neither I nor they do when I’m part of the mix. It’s about my ceasing to exist except as a fingernail or skin cell.

I often have the same reaction to Scripture. So frequently, it focuses on the flock rather than the individual lamb, ewe, or ram. Yes, I know that He will leave the 99 to find and rescue the one, but the one only had to be rescued because it was too poorly behaved to stay with the flock. I’m not saying this idea is justified by Scripture or even experience. Still, it is this sort of thinking into which today’s passage strides with its first-person singular pronouns and descriptions about which I can’t quite say, “Well, that was true of David.”

Probably more than any other chapter in the Bible, this one speaks to me about how God sees me and His love for me. Excuse me while I wax eloquent. Artists create. Good artists create works of art. That’s us – works of art. David describes God as having knit him together in his mother’s womb. Knit can mean “to bring together,” but it tends to assume something more intentional than throwing all the parts in a womb. Knitting is better known (now at least) as a means by which loops of fibers are interlocked so that they form a useful fabric. The same can be said of the weaving reference. I tried knitting as a kid. I’ve read about weaving. Both are skills I’d like to have, but I have no desire to learn them. They’re too complex. I won’t even say I’m any good at crocheting.

So when the passage says that God knit and God wove, I understand that to involve a level of attention to detail that I’m not willing to exert. Even as a writer, I think of myself as a fairly slapdash “pantser.” The idea that God took time to craft me makes me an individual masterpiece (because He’s that skilled), not just one of the flock, herd, mob, or the dehumanized entity called a collective.

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