There’s an ache in my heart that’s hard to define. Something on a precipice about to fall. A thin piece of glass that’s about to break. A well of unshed tears on the verge of breaking free. A shadow dancing around the gratitude. Sometimes it’s a fog of uncertainty around the steps and practices that I thought would bring me closer and deeper in relationship with God.
The ache of grief and sorrow in a quiet posture just behind the laughter, smiles, and joyful times. A heavy weight that perches even in moments of praise. An undercurrent of pain that ripples through what might be the beginnings of redemption. A hoarse whisper of things that should not have happened.
To deny this thing isn’t possible. It’s actually there. And even though I might be tempted (or told) to label it as a bad attitude or a negative mindset, I don’t think it is. It’s something different. And it’s something that’s there even in the joy.
Is it the way I was wired? Is it an inability to really handle and process past the dysfunctions and circumstances of my life? Is it a desire to be somewhere I don’t feel capable of? Is it a spiritual immaturity or lack of emotional health? Does my insecurity, lack of self-esteem, and self-condemnation run that deep?
In the face of these questions, God draws me back to the powerful, beautiful word of Psalm 139.
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.
How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand
—when I awake, I am still with you.
Psalm 139: 13-18 NIV
Though science and psychology give us incredible tools to better understand ourselves and improve our mental and emotional health, there are mysteries and questions that only God can explain.
In his infinite, immeasurable wisdom and grace, in his undefinable complexity and power, he created us. In this Psalm, David says, “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful.”
His Word reminds us that even if we don’t understand the way we’re made or can’t fully name what’s in our hearts, he sees, knows, and is always with us. Perhaps this is why Psalm 23 starts with the reminder of his loving, intimate presence:
You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
Psalm 139 1-6 NIV
He knows us. Not in a shallow, superficial kind of way. Not the way we think we know someone after the first couple of times we meet them. Not even the way we think we know our very best friends or spouses. It’s so incredibly intimate that he knows all of our thoughts and all of our ways.
As I write this, I’m asking the question — when was the last time I praised God because I was fearfully and wonderfully made? Have I ever? Am I trusting him fully that no matter what circumstances have shaped me and impacted my life, he has created me perfectly to overcome them through him?
Could this thing that feels unnameable in my heart actually be a gift? Did God create our hearts to hold on to the pain and joy of this life in a way that would help us to never lose sight of our deep brokenness — and in turn, never lose sight of our deep, desperate need for him?
Does he allow this thing to exist to prompt us toward turning back to him, seeking him, and being with him through his Word? Does he allow this thing to even be there be at the edge of joy so that we’re able to attune with others and show compassion and empathy where we might otherwise fall short?
Just like he so carefully and intentionally wove us together, he is continuing to weave us together through all the challenges and traumas this life brings. He saw our smallest pieces as he formed us into life, and he sees even the smallest pieces of our hearts now. He sees the shadows, the whispers, the jagged edges, the shattered pieces that can’t be extricated in this life on earth. He sees the parts that hover on the edge that feel like they’re about to break. Even in the hardest places, his hand is holding us:
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: 6 -12 NIV
In his infinite wisdom, he is right there with us. He’ll show us what’s next. Maybe he’ll continue to whisper that we’re his — and that we’re wonderfully made — until we can’t help but believe it. Maybe he’ll use those things that feel unnameable right now to lead us towards others with greater compassion. Maybe he’ll transform the unnameable things into something different down the road that we can finally name.
We may not know what’s next, be able to answer all the questions about ourselves, or be able to name all the pieces of our complex hearts. But in Psalm 139, God tells us with certainty that we belong to him, he knows us, and he is wth us always. We are precious to him. He is drawing us toward him. And he can use every piece and part of us for good, and for his glory.
Create Space for Grace
Soak in God’s word. Let it wash over you. Create space to be with God in this moment. Breathe, pray, and consider a step he’s inviting you to take with him.
Breathe
Breathe in: Jesus, you know me.
Breathe out: You go before and behind me.
Pray
Father God,
I praise you for the perfect way you’ve made everything in creation. I thank you for the perfect way you’ve made me and the depth to which you know everything about me. You know may pain, my joy, and the desires of my heart. You know the parts where I’m broken and about to break. You know the parts you’ve redeemed and strengthened. Help me remember the power of your love for me. Remind me that you are always with me — before me, behind me, beside me, in every step.
In Jesus’ Precious Name,
Amen
Take a Step With Jesus
What are the unnamed things in your heart? Could acknowledging them with Jesus help you begin to name them? Even if you can’t do that today, how can you start allowing God to use those pieces to draw you closer to him and his purposes for your life?