Our Lord Jesus Christ communicates through the Prophets, sometimes in His own name and at other times in ours, uniting Himself with humanity—as articulated, "the two shall become one flesh." This is why the Lord states in the Gospel regarding marriage that they are no longer two, but one flesh. He became one flesh to share in our mortality; he did not merge with our essence as deity, for He is the Creator while we are His creations. Thus, whatever our Lord communicates in the Flesh He adopted is relevant not only to the Head who has ascended to heaven but also to the members who continue to strive through their earthly journeys. Let us heed the words of our Lord Jesus Christ in the prophecies. The psalms were sung long before the Lord came forth from Mary, but He was already the Lord from eternity, the Creator of all. In the fullness of time, He was born from His creation. Let us affirm our belief in this divine nature and, as far as we are able, comprehend Him as coequal with the Father. However, this divine nature, equal to the Father, embraced our mortal condition through our lineage, so that we too might share in His divine essence.
“O Lord, You have searched me and know me” (Psalm 138:1). Let the Lord Jesus Christ proclaim this, as He might also say to the Father, “Lord.” His Father is His Lord only because He chose to become incarnate. He is the Father of the Son, who is coequal with Him. The Apostle writes, “Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God” (Philippians 2:6-7). The Father has this form, being equal to the Son, the only-begotten, generated from His own essence. For our benefit, that we could be reshaped and made partakers of His divine essence, He took upon Himself our mortal nature. What does the Apostle reveal about Him? He says, “He emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men, and being found in appearance as a man.” He existed in the Form of God, equal to the Father, yet took on the shape of a servant, becoming less than the Father for our sake.
“You have known my sitting down and my rising up” (Psalm 138:2). What is there to sitting or rising? The one who sits humbles himself. The Lord sat during His Passion and rose again in His Resurrection. He says, “You knew it,” meaning you willed it, you assented; it was accomplished according to Your will. If we consider the Head speaking through the Body, a person crouches down in humility upon repentance and rises when forgiven, lifted to the hope of eternal life. Do not elevate yourselves unless you first lower yourselves, for many wish to stand tall before they adopt a humble position and seek to appear righteous before admitting their sins.
“You understand my thoughts from afar; You scrutinize my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways” (Psalm 138:3-4). What is afar? While I am still on my journey, before I arrive at my true homeland, You have discerned my thoughts. The younger son ventured into a distant land. After enduring labor, suffering, sorrow, and need, he remembered his father and resolved to return, saying, “I will arise and go to my father.” He arose, indicating he was ready before he actually sat down in repentance. Here we find the reflection of the Lord’s words: “You knew my sitting down and rising up.” I sat amidst want; I arose desiring Your bread. You perceived my thoughts from a distance. I have indeed traveled far; yet where can I escape the presence of the one I have forsaken? Therefore, the Lord affirms in the Gospel that his father noticed him while he was on his way back. Indeed, for he understood his thoughts from afar. My way, he questions; what else could it be but the poor path I chose to leave my father? What is my limit? It is what I have achieved. You have observed my journey and its end. Yet, this limit, however far I have strayed, was never hidden from your sight. I traveled wide and yet You were there. You knew all my paths even before I took them. He did not say "saw"; He said "saw beforehand." Before I walked them, before I entered them, You foresaw them; and You permitted me to wander through labor, so if I chose not to labor, I might return to Your paths. For there lies no falsehood on my lips. What does this signify? I confess to You that I have strayed far from you, I have fallen away from you, with whom I thrived, yet without whom I found suffering.
“Your eyes have seen my unformed substance, and in Your book all my days are written, even before they came to be” (Psalm 138:16). You knew my final actions while I fed swine; You recognized my early actions when I demanded my portion. These former deeds led to my present troubles; the ancient sin was our downfall, the last punishment as we entered into this tedious and perilous existence. If there is a last result for us, so there shall be for the wicked; they shall hear, “Depart into eternal fire” (Matthew 25:41). You shaped me and laid Your hand upon me, forging me in this mortality, now intended for the tasks we are all destined to fulfill. No one is born without God designing him in his mother’s womb; there is no creature whose artisan is not God. You fashioned me for this labor and laid upon me Your punitive hand, humbling the proud. For He humbles the proud with healing intentions to elevate the humble.
“Your skill has been wonderfully demonstrated in me; it has become great, and I cannot comprehend it” (Psalm 138:6). Listen, for now speaks something truly profound, yet rewarding when understood. Moses, the holy servant of God, spoke with God in the cloud. He sought to behold the essence of God's appearance, saying to God, “If I have found favor in Your sight, show me Your glory” (Exodus 33:13). In earnest desire, he implored God for a glimpse of His glory. Yet God responded, “You cannot see My face, for no one may live who sees My face” (Exodus 33:20). However, He told Moses He would place him in a cleft of the rock and pass by, allowing him to see His back. This implies a mystery, hinting at truth. When God says, “When I pass by, you will see My back parts,” it suggests a divine presence issuing from both a front and a rear. We do not interpret such majesty as having duality within it, for anyone thinking thus only creates an idol in their heart. These statements contain vast mysteries. Those who were incensed at the Lord they could see yearn now for salvation; they hear, “Repent and be baptized everyone of you in the name of Jesus Christ, and your sins will be forgiven” (Acts 2:38). Indeed, they beheld His back, unable to see His face, for His hand obscured their sight momentarily. After He had departed, they inquired of the disciples, “What shall we do?” Initially hardened, they then softened; from anger to fear; from cruelty to compassion; from blindness to illumination.
“Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence?” (Psalm 138:7). Who can escape the Spirit present throughout creation? “And where can I escape from Your face?” The soul seeks to evade God’s indignation. What refuge can shelter this fugitive? The inhabitants that shelter those seeking refuge question whom they have fled. Upon discovering the fugitive is enslaved to a lesser master, they fearlessly accept him, thinking he is no longer pursued. But when they learn of a formidable lord, they either extend no shelter or do so with trepidation, for even a mighty one can be deceived. Where exists a place devoid of God? Who can deceive God? Who goes unseen by Him? Who can evade His grasp? Where will this fugitive hide from God's gaze? He flails about, desperate to find a shelter.
“If I ascend into heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there” (Psalm 138:8). Alas, you o unfortunate fugitive, have learned you cannot escape from Him whom you wished to flee. Behold, He is ever-present; what will you do? He found counsel, which was inspired by Him who causes all to remember. If, in my shame, I plunge into wickedness and deny confession, saying, “Who sees me?” (for in Sheol who confesses to You?), You are still there to judge. Where might I hide from Your presence, or more specifically, from experiencing Your wrath? You plan your escape, deciding, “Thus I will flee from Your face.” How? “If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the farthest seas” (Psalm 138:9), perhaps then I might evade Your presence. Yet if he runs to the uttermost parts of the sea, will not Him whom he flees find him there? For what is the end of the sea but the end of the earth? Let us now rise with hope and earnest longing, wings spread wide; may we find no rest outside the farthest reaches of sea. If we seek sanctuary elsewhere, we will be engulfed. Let us fly to the sea’s edge and take flight with undivided devotion; fasting despair and seeking the divine we hope to encounter at the other end.
Now, hear from the One who guides us where we long to go—the very One from whom we wish to escape. “And Your hand shall lead me and Your right hand shall uphold me” (Psalm 138:10). Let us reflect on this encouragement, dear brethren; let it sustain our hope and comfort. We should reclaim the wings which have been lost to worldly desires. For lust is the adhesive that weighs us down, stripping us of the freedom of the spiritual atmosphere of God. As we fell, we lost our ability to ascend, becoming captive in a worldly snare; yet He redeemed us with His blood from whence we fled. He grants us the wings of His commands, allowing us to lift them high, liberated from worldly adhesive. He must guide us, for He is our Helper. We possess free will; yet with it, how can we act unless He who directs us assists?
As he contemplates the length of the distance, he muses, “Perhaps darkness will cover me…” (Psalm 138:11). Indeed, having come to believe in Christ, I am raised on the wings of boundless love. The toil of the journey becomes illuminated in delight despite the heavy darkness of my despair. The night is lit because He sought me out while I was lost, scourging me back into communion, allowing my soul to find solace amidst trials, reminding us that though life’s night arises, darkness has not the power to overwhelm me, for “darkness is not dark to You; the night shines as the day” (Psalm 138:12).
Hence, do not allow the night to suffocate. For God does not encompass it in shadow but provides more light; as declared in another psalm, “You, O Lord, will lighten my lamp; my God will illuminate my darkness.” Yet who darkens their own reality? It is the wicked and the perverse—when they sin, they are enveloped in darkness, failing to confess their wrongdoing and further entwining themselves in shadows. If thus entangled, admit your faults, and the light shall break forth. Protect your heart from defending darkness, and the night shall shine with joy.
And the night shall be like the day. Night symbolizes adversity; day represents worldly prosperity. If we learn amidst our sins to endure hardships and accept our Father's chastisement as sweet, thus escaping the Judge's bitter verdict, we shall discover the night’s darkness serving as light. When Christ, our Lord, indwells the faithful soul, promising us a more profound light, inspiring patience, and encouraging us not to rejoice in worldly success nor be disheartened by hardship, we become steadfast, neither exulting in abundance nor collapsing in deprivation but praising God in all circumstances; not just in wealth but in want, in health as well as illness. Just as His darkness is, so is His light; neither overwhelms me; neither fascinates me to folly.