Our Lord Jesus Christ communicates through the Prophets, sometimes addressing us in His own name and at other times in our name, as He unites with us. As it is written, “two shall be one flesh.” Therefore, the Lord mentions in the Gospel concerning marriage that they are no longer two, but one flesh. This oneness arises because of our mortality; He assumed our human form, but He remains the Creator, distinct from His creation. Thus, anything our Lord says through His own humanity pertains both to the Head who has ascended into heaven and to the members still journeying through this earthly existence. Let us listen to our Lord Jesus Christ as He speaks in prophecy. The Psalms were sung long before the Lord was born of Mary, but not before He became Lord; for from eternity, He has been the Creator of all, yet in time, He was born of His own creation. Let us hold fast to this divinity, striving to comprehend Him as equal to the Father. This divinity, which is equal to the Father, has shared in our mortal condition, not from His own nature, but from ours, so that we might also partake of His divine essence, not deriving it from ourselves but from Him.
“Lord, Thou hast tried me, and hast recognized me” (Psalm 138:1). Let the Lord Jesus Christ Himself express this; let Him speak to the Father: “Lord.” The Father is not merely His Lord because of His birth in the flesh; He is indeed Father of God and Lord of Man. Do you know whom He identifies as Father? The equal Son. The Apostle declares, “Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God” (Philippians 2:6-7). This form is the Father, equal to Himself, the only begotten Son, begotten from His own essence. He became partaker of our mortality for our benefit, that we might share in His divine nature, being renewed for eternal life.
“You have recognized my sitting and my rising” (Psalm 138:2). What does it mean to sit and to rise? The one who sits does so in humility. The Lord sat during His Passion and rose again in His Resurrection. He indicates that You knew this; meaning, You willed it, and by Your will, it was accomplished. If we understand the words of the Head as expressed through the Body, a man humbles himself in repentance when he sits, and he rises when sins are forgiven and is uplifted with the hope of eternal life. Do not elevate yourselves before humbling yourselves, for many wish to stand up before they have knelt in repentance, wishing to seem righteous before admitting their faults.
“You have understood my thoughts from afar; You have marked out my way and my limit” (Psalm 138:3); “and all my ways You have seen before” (Psalm 138:4). What does it mean that He understands from afar? It is while I wander through my pilgrimage, before I reach my true homeland, that He knows my thoughts. As the younger son journeyed to a distant land, after toil, suffering, and need, he remembered his father and resolved to return, saying, “I will arise and go to my father.” I will arise, for he first recognized his needs before he sought his father. Here he acknowledges, “You knew how I sat down and rose up.” I sat down in need; I rose up desiring Your sustenance. You knew my thoughts from afar; indeed, I have traveled far, but where is He whom I have forsaken? Thus, the Lord states in the Gospel that His father met him as he approached. Truly, He understood his thoughts from afar.
My journey, he laments; what but a troubled path, the one taken in departing from my father? What is my journey? That through which I have traveled. What is my limit? What I have accomplished. You have traced my path and assigned my limits. This limit, although far, was never out of Your sight. I had traveled far, yet You remained present. All my ways were seen by You in advance; even before I encountered them, You perceived and permitted me to wander through my toil, so that if I would not labor, I could return to Your way. For the truth is with me, I do not deceive. What does he mean by this? Behold, I confess to You; I have strayed and grown distant from You. It was good for me to be with You, but apart from You, my circumstances have become dire.
“Behold, You, O Lord, knowest all my works, last and ancient” (Psalm 138:5). You knew my most recent actions when I tended the swine; You recognized my earlier deeds when I sought my portion of the inheritance. Those past actions were the roots of my newest troubles: the ancient sin of our fall and the recent trials of our burdensome mortality. If this is what is last for us, so too will it be if we truly desire to return. There remains one final judgment for some wicked individuals, to whom it will be said, “Go into everlasting fire” (Matthew 25:41). You fashioned me, Lord, and placed Your hand upon me, shaping me in this mortality—embarking us upon trials for which we are created. For no person is born without God's creative plan in their mother’s womb; there is no being whose Creator is not God. You have shaped me through these labors, and Your vengeful hand has guided me, humbling the proud. By humbling the proud, He elevates the meek and brings healing.
“Your art hath marvellously manifested itself in me: it hath become strong; I shall not be able to attain it” (Psalm 138:6). Now listen closely, for what may seem obscure brings much delight in understanding. Moses, the holy servant of God, to whom God spoke through a cloud, needed the work of His hands to convey His message. He longed to witness the reality of God's presence and requested, “If now I have found grace before Your eyes, show me Yourself” (Exodus 33:13). When he requested this with great earnestness, God responded: “My Face thou canst not see; for no man hath seen My Face, and lived” (Exodus 33:20). But I will set you in the cleft of the rock, and I will pass by, and lay My hand upon you, and when I have passed by, thou shalt see My back. This expresses another mystery—a profound image of truth. “When I pass by,” says God, “you shall see My back parts,” implying a distinction between His face and His back. Such concepts do not conform to our understanding of His Majesty! Anyone who formulates such thoughts about God builds idols within their heart instead of worshipping the living God. These words encapsulate great mysteries.
Those who once were angry with the Lord they could see now seek guidance for their salvation. It was said to them: “Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ, and your sins shall be remitted unto you” (Acts 2:38). Behold, they beheld His back, unable to look upon His face. His hand was not permanently closed over their eyes, but while He passed by. After He departed, their eyes were uncovered, prompting a question among the disciples—“What shall we do?” They transitioned from cruelty to compassion, from anger to fear, from hardness to kindness, from blindness to enlightenment.
Consider how a fugitive in a distant country cannot evade the gaze of the one from whom he flees. Where then shall he go once he reaches the end of his bounds? Is it not said, “Where shall I go from Your Spirit?” (Psalm 138:7). Who can flee from the Spirit that pervades the universe? “And where shall I flee from Your face?” He seeks an escape from the wrath of God. What refuge can protect such a fugitive? Those who offer shelter to runaways inquire from whom they are fleeing; when they discover a slave evading a master who is not potent, they shelter him without fear, thinking, “He has no master to chase him.” But if they learn of a powerful lord, they either refuse to offer refuge or do so with great trepidation, recognizing even a mighty man can be deceived. Where is there no God? Who can elude His gaze? Who remains unseen by God? Whom does God not call to account? Where does the fugitive flee from the presence of God? He twists and turns, searching for a place to escape.
“If I go up to heaven, You are there; if I go down to hell, You are present” (Psalm 138:8). At last, wretched fugitive, you have discovered that there is no way to depart from Him whom you wish to escape. Behold, He is everywhere; where shall you go? He discovered counsel, and this counsel comes from Him who has now chosen to remember it.
If, having sinned, I delve into the depths of wickedness and refuse to confess, saying, “Who sees me?” (for in Hades, who confesses to You?), You are there to punish. Where shall I go to flee from Your presence, striving not to encounter Your wrath? He seeks to escape, saying, “I will flee from Your face, seeking to escape from Your Spirit, Your vengeful countenance.” How? “If I lift my wings and settle in the farthest parts of the sea” (Psalm 138:9). Can I escape from Your gaze even if I reach the edge of the sea? For what is the end of the sea but the end of the earth? There let us yearn, soaring on the wings of profound affection; may we find no rest except in the far reaches of the sea. If we seek sanctuary anywhere else, we will be plunged headlong into the depths. Let us strive toward the sea’s shore and glide on the wings of double love; in the meantime, let us run toward God with hope and meditate on the horizon beyond the sea.
Now heed the one who can guide us. It is He from whose face we wish to flee in anger. What follows? “And there Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall guide me” (Psalm 138:10). Let us reflect upon this, dear brethren, let it be our hope and our consolation. Let us take once more the wings we lost through temptation. For desire was the glue that weighed down our wings, bringing us down from the freedom of our celestial haven—the refreshing breeze of the Spirit of God. As we fell, we lost our wings, as if ensnared by the fowler, from whom He redeemed us with His blood when we fled to avoid capture. He grants us the wings of His commandments; now we rise, freed from entrapment. Thus, we must possess wings, and He must guide us, for He is our Helper. We are given free will; however, what can we accomplish with this free will unless He who directs us also assists us?
And considering the length of the journey, what did he express to himself? “Perhaps darkness shall encompass me.” Behold, now I believe in Christ; now I soar on the wings of double love. Reflecting on the journey's length, I concluded that the night was illuminated by my joy. The darkness became bright in my delight because, in the night, I despaired of traversing such a vast sea, enduring a lengthy journey, reaching distant shores, and persevering until the end. I express gratitude to Him who sought me as a fugitive, who struck my back with the whip, who called me back from ruin, who made my night glow.
As long as we inhabit this life, darkness comes. How does the night become light? Because Christ descended into the shadow. “For darkness shall not be darkened by You” (Psalm 138:12). Do not obscure your darkness; God does not obscure it but rather fills it with light. For in another psalm, it is written: “Thou, O Lord, shall light my candle: my God shall enlighten my darkness.” But who are those that darken their own darkness which God does not darken? Wicked men, individuals who are perverse; when they sin, they embody darkness indeed and continue to defend their sins. Thus, if you have sinned, you exist in darkness; yet in confessing your darkness, illumination is found; by defending your transgressions, you deepen your darkness. How can you flee from dual darkness after being troubled in singular darkness? Let us not darken our darkness by justifying our sins, and the night shall transform into light filled with joy.