“O Lord, you have searched me, and you know me (vs 1) … Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me, and know my thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead in me in the way everlasting. (vs 24).”

I grew up in a family that wasn’t polite for being-nice’s-sake.

Criticism was a common occurrence. I grew a pretty thick skin and learned not to inhale when others complimented me. After all, some people give compliments because they can’t bear to tell you the truth: that you look horrible in that skirt, that you stink, that your performance was terrible, etc.

So, I’ve almost always felt like I’m pretty realistic about myself. My motivations. My character flaws. My strengths. My weaknesses. At some points in time, such realism was brutal … and I found myself backing away from it sometime in college.

In the wake of realizing that the New Year had rung in and I hadn’t done my yearly review and resolutions, I found myself floundering a bit for a Bible-reading regime this year. Well after the new year, I tried to order something online, but was having problems purchasing, so I figured, “I’ll just use My Utmost for now, since we have several copies.”

Talk about divine tech-problems.

I found this the first day of my new devotional reading: The great, mysterious work of the Holy Spirit is in the deep recesses of our being, which we cannot reach. Read Psalm 139. The psalmist implies—‘O Lord, You are the God of the early mornings, the God of the late nights, the God of the moutain peaks, and the God of the sea. But, my God, my sould has horizons further away than those of early mornings, deeper darkness than the night of earth, higher peaks than any mountain peaks, greater depths than any sea in nature. You who are the God of all these, be my God. I cannot reach to the heights or depths; there are motives I cannot discover, dreams I cannot realize. My God, search me.’

This just resonated with me, and resonates with me today. Psalm 139 is probably my favorite Psalm in the Bible — but I had never thought about it like this before.

I cannot really know myself.

I used to think this was absurd. I know myself. I’ve always believed this. Throughout my life, I’ve spent a lot of time on self-reflection, and I probably know myself a lot better than most people out there.

But lately, I’ve begun to think I’m not so sure that I really do know myself. My job is about confrontation, in a manner of speaking. But, in my job, I have trouble sometimes confronting. I realized this the other day on the phone with another attorney with whom I was having a disagreement, but found myself not wanting to actually disagree.

Huh? What else is there that I do not realize, am afraid to realize, about myself?

This is an absolutely terrifying question.

A few days after the above-quoted Oswald Chambers, he says, “We can only be used by God after we allow him to show us the deep, hidden areas of our own character. It is astounding how ignorant we are about ourselves!…How many of us have learned to look inwardly with courage?”

And the next day, Chambers asks, “Are we alone with Him now?”

Today in church, we sang: “In the Secret, In the Quiet Place, in the Stillness, You are there.” This song was new when I was in high school – it’s kindof ‘old’ now – but it reminded me of myself then. How earnestly I yearned to know the Lord; but, immature that yearning was. How disappointed I was if God did not immediately show himself, or offer an ephinany.

And today, I thought that, maybe God has given me His own resolution for me this New Year.

Create some stillness and quiet. Let His Spirit reveal those parts of myself that I cannot know; and trust His grace to be sufficient.

I am absolutely terrified.

“O Lord, you have searched me, and you know me (vs 1) … Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me, and know my thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead in me in the way everlasting. (vs 24).”

So, if you feel like it, how do you create quiet and stillness? How best to let the Lord seach us and test us?

My heart is not proud, O God, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. vs 1

Last night, I was telling Jubilee the Christmas story. She was looking at me intently, listening intently. Jubilee’s been asking, “why?” and “what’s this?” a thousand times a day for the last three or four months. She asks to the point of ridiculousness, and the answers become “because that’s the way God made it” or “because I said so” but in-between the first “why” and the “because that’s what God did” she gets a lot of really good information.

And, that’s the way she was listening to the Christmas story. Asking “why?” and really listening.

I realized that it’s probably the first time she’s really heard the Christmas story. As I told her about Mary being pregnant, the angel telling Joseph to name the baby Jesus, and the ‘president’ or ‘king’ named Caesar making everyone travel to their hometown with Mary so pregnant, in labor — “breathing ‘hee-hee-ho’ Momma?” — needing somewhere, anywhere to go … I saw the Christmas story more real than I’ve ever seen it.

God, not considering equality with himself something we humans can grasp humbled himself, making himself nothing. (Philippians 2:6-7). A baby. Born to a poor girl who didn’t even get to Bethlehem early enough to stay in hotel. Even a Super 8 quality hotel.

Last night, as I told Jubilee about the months and day of Jesus’ birth, I thought about our wild ride to the hospital with Noah – how would I have felt if I was riding a donkey in a town I’d never visited before, and couldn’t even find a clean place to deliver him? He that I was told would be The Savior of the world?

There with the cows and donkeys and lambs?

And then, as a mother, having my first visitors be smelly shepherds. Men and boys who saw and heard angels sing of His birth. Seeing them kneel down to worship the little life that had just been born?

And rich, worldly, ‘wise’ men, with expensive gifts from far-off lands. Worshiping in a stable? Worshiping a baby, who could only cry when he was hungry?

Me, a mom? Not even really knowing how to take care of a new baby: feeding him, diapering him … helping him sleep.

Oh Lord.

This is humility.

The devotional that I’ve been reading this year says about this verse in Psalms: “The way to get to know our God is not through intellectual inquiry or self-righteous behavior, but through humility and a still, quiet soul. That has always been the case. The gentle God of grace asks us to acknowledge reality–the true condition of our diseased heart–so He can act in a way that we will recognize. Mercy travels incognito in the presence of pride, which thinks grace is well deserved; but when humility sees the benevolence of God, it sees clearly.”

How often do I have haughty eyes-judging others, thinking I know better, or that something is beneath me? How often do I concern myself with something too great for me?

When the very Creator of the universe humbled himself to be born to Mary and Joseph in a stable.

I can only pray that the Lord will continue to reveal Himself to me, forgiving me for my arrogance. That I wouldn’t be so arrogant to have to be brought low — but also, that, if I am, the Lord would humble me so that I can clearly see His grace.

The grace of one who was born where animals lived, was hated by men and crucified – but will be worshiped by all some day.

May my Christmas – and yours – be centered on these things.

Trust in the LORD and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun. Psalm 37:3-6

Whenever I get in the middle of something, I tend to forget this.

Trust. Delight. Commit.

So, I’m gonna try to remember to Trust. Delight. And commit my way. Even in the middle of everything. Especially in the middle of everything. The results will be up to God. And, he’s made his promise about that.

There’s a Proverb that says something to the effect “don’t sing cheerful songs to a downtrodden heart.”

As a bit of a dramatic pre-teen, this Proverbs made sense to me. I mean, when the boy you wanted to be interested in YOU starts dating someone else, you didn’t want your best friend to immediately start talking about other boys who are even cuter and smarter and more awesome that that boy, inadvertently reminding you of the cuteness, smartness and awesomeness of the boy who just broke your heart.

At least I didn’t. I wanted some company in my wallowing misery first. Then, maybe after a bit, I could put up with some cheering. First though, wallowing in misery.

So, there I was yesterday, on day 4 of bed-rest, reading through Psalm 147. And, dang it all if the Psalm violated the wallowing-Proverb-rule. Praise the LORD. how good it is to sing praises to our God, how pleasant and fitting to praise him! Psalm 147:1.

“Excuse me, Lord?” I found myself asking. “These last 5 months I’ve been expecting to work, take care of Jubilee, finish stockpiling for my maternity leave, save up a bit more money, take some time off for Christmas and THEN have this little boy in February with no problems and be on my merry — if busier — way.”

“NOW you let me in that this is NOT the plan. Instead, we have option A: this baby may be born in the next couple weeks — probably survive, but have a significant risk of health problems — or, option B: this baby is born in about 8 weeks as planned, but I’m on bed rest as complete invalid the entire time.”

“And now you’re telling me how FITTING IT IS TO PRAISE YOU?!? When my life is NOT GOING AS EXPECTED?!? And things could get really really really hard in all kinds of unexpected ways?”

I’ve learned; however, to swallow my initial reaction to snap my Bible shut at the first sign I haven’t flipped to the “right” passage, and I continued to read my morning Psalm.

The LORD builds up Jerusalem; he gathers the exiles of Israel. He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name. Great is our Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit. The LORD sustains the humble but casts the wicked to the ground. Sing to the Lord with thanksgiving, make music to our God on the harp. He covers the sky with clouds; he supplies the earth with rain and makes grass grow on the hills. He provides food for the cattle and for the young ravens when they call. His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of a man; the LORD delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.”

As I read these words, they began to sink in. As the passage says, the Lord is mighty and He understands. He knows all the stars in the sky, he provides grass for the cows, decides when it will snow, when the snow will melt … Nothing in nature is a surprise to him.

Neither is anything happening in my life, my body, a surprise to him.

And, this God, who has the great power to direct the very elements also promises to heal the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds. He delights not in the things I can do for him, my strength and own accomplishments, but he delights in me when I put my hope in his unfailing love.

This is my challenge right now then, as much as it is my challenge everyday, to put my hope in his unfailing love. Whatever happens. This God who intimately knows every star, he delights in me when I trust him. His love may not result in the outcome I thought I wanted, but my task is to trust and hope in that love.

He knows better than me. It is good to praise the Lord.