Our Lord Jesus Christ communicates through the Prophets, sometimes addressing us through His own voice and at other times speaking on our behalf, as He unites Himself with us. As it is written, "the two shall become one flesh." That is why the Lord speaks in the Gospel about marriage, declaring that they are no longer two but one flesh. This unity is due to our mortality, as He assumed a mortal body. Yet He remains one with the Creator, distinctly separate from His created beings. Therefore, anything our Lord expresses as a result of the flesh He has taken pertains to both the Head who has ascended into heaven and the members still journeying through the earthly life. Let us listen as our Lord Jesus Christ speaks through prophetic words. The psalms were rendered long before His birth from Mary, yet not before He became Lord, for He was the Creator of all from eternity, and in time, He was born of His own creation. Let us affirm our belief in His deity, striving to understand Him as equal to the Father. This Godhead, equal to the Father, partook of our mortal essence—not from Himself but from us—so that we too might partake in His divine essence, not from ourselves but from Him.
"Lord, You have examined me and know me" (Psalm 138:1). Let the Lord Jesus Himself voice this, saying to the Father, "Lord." For while His Father is not His Lord in the sense of earthly dominion, He chose to take on our fleshly nature. He is the Father of God and the Lord of humanity. Do you know whom He fathers? The equal Son. The Apostle writes, "Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God" (Philippians 2:6-7). This divine form is that of the Father, the only-begotten Son, begotten of His very essence. But He took on our mortal nature for our sake, so that we might be remolded as partakers of His divine existence, receiving renewal unto everlasting life. What does the Apostle declare about Him? He says, "But He emptied Himself, taking upon Himself the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men, and being found in fashion as a man" (Philippians 2:7-8). He existed in the form of God, equal to the Father, yet took on the form of a servant, lowering Himself that through this humility, He may elevate those who are humble.
"You know my sitting down and my rising up" (Psalm 138:2). What does it mean to sit or to rise? The one who sits humbles himself. The Lord sat in His Passion and rose in His Resurrection. You, He says, acknowledged it; that is, You willed it, You approved it; it was executed by Your will. If you accept the words of the Head in the persona of the Body: a man sits when he humbles himself in repentance and rises when he is forgiven and lifted to the hope of eternal life. Do not elevate yourselves unless you first humble yourselves, for many desire to stand before kneeling, to appear righteous before confessing their sins.
"You have understood my thoughts from afar; You have marked out my path and my limits" (Psalm 138:3). What does "afar" mean? While I am still on my pilgrimage before reaching my true homeland, You have known my thoughts. The younger son departed to a distant land. After toil, suffering, sorrow, and need, he recalled his father and wished to return, proclaiming, "I will arise and go to my father." He resolved to "arise" first and only then sat in repentance for his condition. Here, recognize the truth in His words: "You understood my sitting and rising." I sat down in misery; I rose up longing for Your sustenance. You have known my thoughts from afar. I have journeyed far, yet where can I go from You? Thus the Lord spoke in the Gospel, His father met him as he walked, for He understood his thoughts from afar. My way—I suppose, a misguided way—was to leave my father. What is my path? It is that which I have trodden. What is my limit? It is my accomplishment. You have traced my path and my limits, which, although far, were not hidden from Your sight. Far I may have gone, yet You were with me. All my ways You observed beforehand. He did not merely say "saw," but "saw in advance." Even before I walked these paths, You already saw them; You permitted my toiling, that if I should cease to labor, I might return to Your ways. There is no falsehood on my lips. What did he mean? Behold, I confess that I have wandered away from You, drifting from that which was good for me, and truly it became bad for me without You.
"Behold, O Lord, You have known all my deeds, both recent and ancient" (Psalm 138:5). You knew my present actions when I was in want, and You recognized my past actions when I asked for my share of my inheritance. My ancient actions spiraled into new miseries: the original sin from our fall, leading to the last punishment we face in this burdensome and perilous life. If this is the end for us, it will also serve as the closing chapter should we wish to return. For there remains a final sentence for wicked individuals, as it is declared, "Depart into everlasting fire" (Matthew 25:41). You fashioned me and placed Your hand upon me, shaping me in this mortality to embrace the burdens for which I was born. Every human life begins with God who creates within the womb; no being exists that is not shaped by Him. Yet You made me for labor, imposing upon me Your hand of justice, humbling the proud. For He justly humbles the proud to exalt the meek.
"Your art has marvelously worked within me; it has fortified me, and I cannot attain it" (Psalm 138:6). Listen closely, for herein lies a profound truth that, while obscure, offers delight in its understanding. Moses, that holy servant of God, spoke to God from the clouds, for it was necessary, in human terms, that God speak through something tangible. He yearned to witness the reality of God's manifestation and implored, "If I have found grace in Your sight, show me Your glory" (Exodus 33:13). As he ardently desired to see God’s face, God replied, "You cannot see My face, for no one may see it and live" (Exodus 33:20). Instead, He placed Moses in a cleft of a rock, passing by him and allowing him to see His back. This imagery suggests a profound mystery; the idea of God having a face and back. Such thoughts are unfitting for the Divine Majesty who transcends all comprehension. Those who were angered by the Lord they witnessed now seek counsel for salvation, and it is proclaimed to them: "Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of your sins" (Acts 2:38). Indeed, they saw His back when they could not look upon His face; for the veil was not drawn from their eyes indefinitely, but while He passed. Once He had departed, their sight was restored, prompting them to inquire of the disciples, "What shall we do?" Once harsh, they now express love; once enraged, they are filled with fear; once callous, they now seek compassion; once blind, they are enlightened.
"Where can I go from Your Spirit?" (Psalm 138:7). Even a fugitive in a distant land cannot escape the gaze of the One he flees from. Where shall one go once all limits are reached? "Where can I flee from Your presence?" Seeking refuge from the wrath of God, but can any shelter offer safety to His fugitive? People may provide refuge for those escaping lesser powers, thinking, "He has no master to pursue him," but upon hearing of a mighty sovereign, they hesitate in offering refuge, understanding that even the mightiest can be outwitted. Where is there no God? Who can deceive the Almighty? Who remains unseen by Him? Who can evade His scrutiny? If a fugitive runs from His countenance, does he not look in vain?
"If I ascend to heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in hell, You are present" (Psalm 138:8). Finally, the miserable fugitive realizes the futility of attempting to escape from the One he wishes to evade. There, He is omnipresent; thus, where can one possibly flee? He finds a counsel inspired by the One who remembers it now... If, in my sin, I plunge into depths of iniquity, refusing to acknowledge You, believing, "Who sees me?" (for in the abyss who confesses?), there You are, ready to chastise. Where may I hide from Your presence to evade Your wrath? This scheme reveals my intent: "I will flee from Your face, I will escape from Your Spirit." How? "If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea" (Psalm 138:9), I aim to evade Your countenance. Yet if he attempts to flee to the ends of the sea, will not the One he evades be right there? For a land's end cannot be separated from the world. Let us embark with hope and longing on the wings of love; may we find no rest other than in the most remote parts of the sea. For any other sanctuary leads us deeper into chaos. Let us fly to the sea's edge and rise on the dual wings of love, while also seeking God in hope and diligent reflection at the other end of the ocean.
Now heed the One who can escort us there—the very One from whose face in anger we wish to retreat. "There Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall uphold me" (Psalm 138:10). Let us meditate upon this, beloved friends, for it should be our expectation, our comfort. Let us embrace once more through love the wings we forfeited in lust. For lust served as the glue for our wings, pulling us from the freedom of the heavenly breeze that is God's Spirit. As we fell, our wings were lost, and we were, in a sense, ensnared by the hunter; yet He redeemed us with His blood, He from whom we sought to escape. He grants us the wings of His commandments; we now elevate them, liberated from the adhesive of temptation. Wings we must possess, with Him who leads us as our Helper. We possess free will, yet what indeed can we accomplish without His guiding hand?
And considering the length of the journey, what thoughts crossed his mind? "Perhaps darkness shall envelop me" (Psalm 138:11). Yet now that I believe in Christ, I am lifted upon the wings of love. Concerning the journey, I contemplated that the night became illuminated in my elation. The night shone bright within my joy because of my despondence at the thought of crossing this vast sea, enduring this long journey, reaching distant areas, persevering to the end. I give thanks to Him who sought me while I fled, who chastised my back with the scourges, who called me back from destruction, and who made my night a source of light. For as long as we dwell in this life, night comes. How did this darkness become bright? Because Christ descended into the night.
"For darkness cannot obscure You" (Psalm 138:12). Do not allow your darkness to become darker; God does not darken it but illuminates it even further. As declared in another psalm: "You, O Lord, will light my lamp; my God will enlighten my darkness" (Psalm 18:28). But who darkens their own darkness, so that God does not illuminate? The wicked and the perverse; when they sin, they become darkness indeed. By refusing to confess, they perpetuate darkness in their hearts. Therefore, should you find yourself in darkness, confessing your failings will lead you to enlightenment; but if you defend your sins, you will only deepen this darkness. Where shall you escape the double darkness if you falter in a single one? Let us not darken our darkness by defending our sins; instead, let the night transform into joy.