Being Known - Sermon on Psalm 139 from January 17/18, 2015

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Who is it that really knows you? Is it your spouse? A parent? A sibling? Your best friend?

And, to really know you, what does that person have to know? Is it enough to know something as simple as your favorite color? Key stories from your childhood? Maybe it’s that thing everyone else thinks is normal, but you are terrified of? Or, perhaps they have to know your deepest, most secret dreams for your life?

Perhaps the people closest to us know all these things. And yet, even the people closest to us probably don’t know everything about us. What would it look like for that to be the case? I don’t know that I can quite imagine someone knowing every little thing rattling around inside my mind and heart.

The theme of being known is present throughout today’s readings, but nowhere more than in Psalm 139. In the psalm, it is God who knows us with a depth and fullness difficult to imagine anyone else possessing. The psalmist describes with vivid imagery the extent to which we are known by God.

Being known is complicated stuff. In a certain light, Psalm 139 kind of makes God sound like a combination of Santa Claus and the NSA. Hear it again: “O Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely.” (singing) He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake…

If we have been taught to be afraid of God, this psalm sounds anything but comforting. And if we have been taught to consider God as one who is highly concerned with our individual behaviors and actions, this psalm definitely sounds like bad news. No one likes to feel spied on. It is difficult to be in a deep relationship when the other person is keeping track of every little thing. Being known cannot happen without vulnerability, but to feel that our vulnerability is being exploited can cause feelings of anxiety to overwhelm us. Is this really how things work with God?

How else might we hear Psalm 139? It can be comforting to know that we are never alone, and a blessing to hear that God will never abandon us. For all the vulnerability that is part of being in relationship, God is the only one we can trust to never take advantage of this.

For God is the only one who knows every part of us, the parts we’re proud of, and the parts about which we are ashamed, and loves us fully and completely anyway. God is the one to whom we can say: “For it was you who formed my inmost parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well.”

There are two parts of this psalm that the lectionary skips. One part makes sense, as things take a bit of an interesting turn after verse 18. But the other section, verses 7 to 12, is really important for our understanding of the powerful comfort that comes from being known by God. The psalmist says, “Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven; you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast. If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,’ even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.”

There is nowhere we can go that is too far from God’s compassionate and loving reach. No anger that is too terrible, no joy that is too joyous, no grief that is too deep. In our most extreme emotions and everywhere in between, God knows us, loves us, and seeks us out. From the heights of heaven to the very depths of hell, there is nowhere we can be that God has not already been. There is no part of our emotions or our experiences or our selves that is too much for God to handle.

Being known is complicated stuff. Perhaps we are willing to concede that God can know the depths of our hearts and minds, but what about being known by one another? Often, we can be hesitant to reveal our true selves to others. Being known can be a terrifying thought – will they still like me if they really know me? Is it safe to be known?

We might think that, of all places, the church would be the place we could really let our guard down. That the church would be the place we could safely allow ourselves to be known by one another as we celebrate all the ways we are known and cherished by the God who created us.

Only, more often than not, this doesn’t happen. Somehow, we’ve come to view the church as a place where we have to pretend to be perfect. Rather than being a place where we can share our deepest fears, anxieties, and mistakes, the church is seen as the place where we plaster on a smile and hope that we come off as more put-together than we actually feel. It’s exhausting, isn’t it? To feel like we need to hide who we really are and how we may feel at any given moment. To feel like anger or sadness or despair or deep joy are best expressed when we are alone.

How did this happen? Do we not worship a God who was crucified? A God who knows not only us, but also the despair and pain of rejection and death? This is what gives us comfort. This is what can ease any anxieties we may have about being known intimately and deeply by God. This is what gently (and sometimes not-so-gently) nudges us toward knowing and being known in the midst of this community.

Yes, being known is complicated stuff. But, God created us to be in relationship with one another. The gift of the church is that we are the Body of Christ. We are a collection of imperfect, sinful people united by the one who has created each and every one of us and calls us beloved.

Christ is made known to us in the waters of baptism and in the bread and wine we share around the communion table. These places of reconciliation, forgiveness, and new life draw us to God, the one who knows us deeply. These places of reconciliation, forgiveness, and new life also draw us to one another. Each of us, fearfully and wonderfully made. Each of us, called to relationship with God and with one another. Each of us, known and loved, cherished and protected. Let it be so. Thanks be to God, Amen.