Psalm 139 has been of significant importance to me lately. It’s grace when the Lord solidifies verses in your mind that you will need for what is to come. For me, this psalm has been a very rooting place in scripture for me over the last two months. Even as I write this, I marvel that maybe it has been a bit longer than two months as it is actually the very first Psalm that I chose to memorize after I gave my life to the Lord (I grew up memorizing scripture because I had to, to choose to was something different all together). Over the years, different portions of it have held me up, as it is filled with comforting truths of God’s presence with, care for, and complete knowledge of me.
The past few weeks, I have held onto the comfort provided in two verses as I have found myself in the center of a strange collision of the Lord who gives and who takes away.
My brother Noah died on August 4 at the age of 22-years-old. As I have faced the quandaries in the air around me of, “He was taken too soon,” or “What if he had stayed an extra minute longer before he left for work?” or “Why did she hit him?” Through my mind goes the truth I see in verse 16, “All the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be.” God is the One who created Noah, He is the one who planned his life and numbered his days before he even existed. I find it comforting to know that God had a purpose and a plan for Noah’s short life and that it was fulfilled, and Noah now gets to be with Him forever. For some reason, knowing that allows me to freely set aside the questions and the “what-ifs” and to submit myself to the Father’s will with peace.
Then there is verse 13, “...You knit me together in my mother’s womb.” I heard the news of Noah’s death at 2:21am on August 5. It wasn’t until later in the day that it began to sink in; I’m 10 weeks pregnant, what will this grief do to my developing child? The first trimester of a pregnancy is critical to a fetus, all of its organs and systems are forming; it’s a time that calls for intentional care, much rest, much water, a healthy diet, exercise...if you’ve ever experienced death before, you can see why I fell into my natural response to fear. Grief makes you sort of forget about all that; sleep doesn’t come easily, food seems unimportant, water is not on the mind, time stands still as the day-to-day goings on grow dim in the light of what you have lost. Not only does basic physical care and concern tend to fall to the wayside, but the crushing burden of grief takes its own physical and emotional toll that leaves you drained of strength to the point of exhaustion. But I know this verse is true; it is God who is creating this baby inside me, not me; it is God who can protect this developing child from the negative affects of sorrow, not me; and it has always been God who can carry my fears, not me. I am grateful for praying friends who let me set my burdensome fear for my 10-week-old unborn child onto their backs and willingly carried it for me as I grieved for my Noah and stumbled my way through the crushing blows of the week and a half that followed.
Friends, my fear was lifted by your strength and prayers, and it has not returned; I cannot thank you enough for carrying it for me to our Father when I was far too fragile to lift the added burden of its weight. May He overflow you with blessing for your care of me and the strength you have lent me.
So I continue to stand on Psalm 139 with confidence and cling to the comfort that has poured out of the verses onto my weathered soul. I believe with my whole heart in a good, faithful and sovereign God; a present and thoughtful Creator with a wisdom that far outweighs my own. While this time has been a strange juxtaposition of life and death, I am certain it has made my praises all the fuller as I bless the One who gives and who takes away.
The past few weeks, I have held onto the comfort provided in two verses as I have found myself in the center of a strange collision of the Lord who gives and who takes away.
My brother Noah died on August 4 at the age of 22-years-old. As I have faced the quandaries in the air around me of, “He was taken too soon,” or “What if he had stayed an extra minute longer before he left for work?” or “Why did she hit him?” Through my mind goes the truth I see in verse 16, “All the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be.” God is the One who created Noah, He is the one who planned his life and numbered his days before he even existed. I find it comforting to know that God had a purpose and a plan for Noah’s short life and that it was fulfilled, and Noah now gets to be with Him forever. For some reason, knowing that allows me to freely set aside the questions and the “what-ifs” and to submit myself to the Father’s will with peace.
Then there is verse 13, “...You knit me together in my mother’s womb.” I heard the news of Noah’s death at 2:21am on August 5. It wasn’t until later in the day that it began to sink in; I’m 10 weeks pregnant, what will this grief do to my developing child? The first trimester of a pregnancy is critical to a fetus, all of its organs and systems are forming; it’s a time that calls for intentional care, much rest, much water, a healthy diet, exercise...if you’ve ever experienced death before, you can see why I fell into my natural response to fear. Grief makes you sort of forget about all that; sleep doesn’t come easily, food seems unimportant, water is not on the mind, time stands still as the day-to-day goings on grow dim in the light of what you have lost. Not only does basic physical care and concern tend to fall to the wayside, but the crushing burden of grief takes its own physical and emotional toll that leaves you drained of strength to the point of exhaustion. But I know this verse is true; it is God who is creating this baby inside me, not me; it is God who can protect this developing child from the negative affects of sorrow, not me; and it has always been God who can carry my fears, not me. I am grateful for praying friends who let me set my burdensome fear for my 10-week-old unborn child onto their backs and willingly carried it for me as I grieved for my Noah and stumbled my way through the crushing blows of the week and a half that followed.
Friends, my fear was lifted by your strength and prayers, and it has not returned; I cannot thank you enough for carrying it for me to our Father when I was far too fragile to lift the added burden of its weight. May He overflow you with blessing for your care of me and the strength you have lent me.
So I continue to stand on Psalm 139 with confidence and cling to the comfort that has poured out of the verses onto my weathered soul. I believe with my whole heart in a good, faithful and sovereign God; a present and thoughtful Creator with a wisdom that far outweighs my own. While this time has been a strange juxtaposition of life and death, I am certain it has made my praises all the fuller as I bless the One who gives and who takes away.
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