Psalm 139 is one of my favorite psalms. It is a masterpiece of biblical poetry, showing us what it means to live before God. To live before the everlasting God is to be always searched (vv. 1-6) and sometimes unsettled (vv. 7-12); to be loved by the God of creation is to be perfectly secure (vv. 13-18); and love this God in return is to be personally surrendered (vv. 19-24).
Tucked right into the middle of this psalm is one of the deepest and farthest-reaching statements in all of biblical poetry: “Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them,” (Ps. 139:16). These are important words to remember, especially as the COVID-19 pandemic continues to unfold around us. What can we learn from them?
First, we learn that God has a story. When the writer speaks of “your book,” he is telling us something quite profound. Why do authors write books? Whether it is an account of history or a novel or a science textbook, authors always write to tell stories – to show how people, things, and events are connected. Authors write to show us the order and purpose of reality.
In telling us that all things are written in God’s book, the writer of this psalm is giving us a whole worldview – a foundation for looking at all of life and history, including the present pandemic. Nothing is random; on the contrary, everything is written. Though from our perspective things often seem out of control, the reality is that they are planned out in advance – and in detail. How much of life and history is pre-planned in this way? “Every one of them, the days that were formed for me” – including these days of national and global crisis!
Second, we see that God’s story is personal: “every one of them, the days that were formed for me.” There is no such thing as blind fate. Everything that comes at you today – every blessing, every test, and every pandemic – has been custom-prepared as a piece of your particular story. The same is true for the things that don’t come. There is no such thing as a “tough break.” Rather, every day God consciously withholds certain things that would be bad for us – however much we may desire them. An old writer (John Newton) once put it like this: “Everything is needful that he sends; nothing can be needful that he withholds.”
Faced with these facts – that God plans all things at a very personal level – some of us may be asking the same question: “What about all the sadness, suffering, and death spreading as a result of this pandemic? Is God running this as well? Is this also part of his personal plan for me?”
However uncomfortable it may be, the answer is yes. “But why?” we might immediately reply. “What could possibly be the point?” For those who have suffered directly already, this question is not theoretical but intensely painful. For those of us who are not yet suffering directly, we may soon be. None of us, therefore, can avoid this question.
It is precisely at this point that we must see one more thing: in facing the deep mystery of the Story, we should respond with honest humility. Notice how this unfolds in the remainder of Psalm 139…
In vv. 17-18, the writer notes that God’s thoughts are good but vast: “How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I would count them, they are more than the sand.” God’s plans are bigger than we could ever hold in our hands – more than the sand of every seashore! But he is good. There may be elements of the COVID-19 chapter of God’s story that we never understand. But our inability to grasp the purpose does not mean that there is no purpose. Like sand on the beach, you or I can only ever hold a handful of the vastness at once. So it is with God’s story – our minds can grasp handfuls, but never the whole. Can we admit this honestly? Then we ought to follow such honesty with humility.
In vv. 19-22, the writer acknowledges that this world contains evil elements which oppose God and his good purposes. He does not try to speculate as to why God permits such a state of affairs; he simply admits the reality of evil, and asks God to end it: “Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God!” He calls for justice without calling God unjust. Indeed, he cries out to God to bring justice because he knows God is just! So here again we see the same thing we saw earlier: raw honesty paired with real humility.
Finally, in vv. 23-24, the writer places himself in the hands of God. He began this psalm by confessing that God has “searched me and known me,” (v. 1); now he moves from confession to request: “Search me, O God, and know my heart… see if there by any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” Through many thorny questions and along shadowed paths, honest humility finds its way home to heartfelt trust.
At this point, some of us may be wondering how the writer can find comfort so quickly. How does he get over the problem of evil and suffering in the space of just a few verses? After being so honest, has he decided at last to tune out to reality and simply dream about heaven?
But the writer of the psalm is not tuning out to reality. Rather, he is drilling deeper into reality than many of us have ever gone. The fundamental truths that he has spelled out for us have sunk deep into his soul: God is God; God is good; I am not God. Therefore, I cannot always know what is good and what is bad – in my own heart, let alone in the wide world. Therefore, I must place my heart in the hands of the Author, and trust him to lead me through the darkest pages to the happy ending.
Can it really work like this?
Friends, it already has.
The God of the Psalms is the God of the Gospel. The hands that write the story of life and history are the hands that were hung on a cross to change history and to rescue lives. If you believe the promises of Jesus for yourself – if you believe, or will begin to believe, that everything Jesus did and suffered is God’s gift to you, personally – then there is for you right now, amidst all the uncertainty of COVID-19, this wonderful promise: your days are written in God’s book in red letters. Every day of your story, every blessing and trial, were written in God’s book with the blood of God’s own Son.
If Jesus rescued you from the greatest pandemic of all – the self-centeredness of sin that has killed more people than every coronavirus combined – then you can trust him to carry you through this lesser pandemic as well. Do this, and it doesn’t ultimately matter how dark the story becomes, or how soon your chapters in this world conclude, for the happy ending is sure: “I awake, and I am still with you,” (v. 18).