The First Gospel - Psalm 139 | Ash Meaney

Psalm 139 and the Sanctuary of Being Fully Known

It’s tempting, in the relentless buzz of modern life, to forget our true selves. Day after day, we are shaped more by what we do and how we’re perceived than by who we are and, more importantly, who God is. This past Sunday, Pastor Ash brought us into a spacious, stilling meditation on Psalm 139: a passage that presses past surface-level spirituality and into the depths of what it means to be truly known, seen, and loved by God.

For decades, Ash’s spiritual journey has been shaped by the wilderness — not only desert landscapes but also the inner deserts, where our hearts feel exposed and the world’s noise is at bay. Out of this experience, he led us through Psalm 139, inviting us to discover (or rediscover) the sacred safety of being fully known by God. This psalm is, in his words, “not just abstract theology,” but “truths to be lived.” Let’s consider the main themes.

Omniscience: God’s Relational Knowing

The psalm opens with a startling intimacy: “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.” Here, knowledge is not the cold surveillance of a distant deity but the warm attentiveness of a loving Parent. Ash was quick to point out that the Hebrew word “yada” (to know) is deeply relational—a word more about covenant and connection than about collecting facts.

All of us, Pastor Ash admitted, have “mouth before mind syndrome”—those moments when we say what should have remained, perhaps, unspoken. Yet God, who knows our thoughts even before we form them, hems us in, before and behind. There is nowhere our thoughts or feelings or even most regrettable moments can escape his knowing gaze, and, paradoxically, this is a source of great comfort. God’s nearness strips away the masks we present both to others and to ourselves.

Omnipresence: The Inescapable Nearness of God

The middle of Psalm 139 soars into an exploration of God’s omnipresence — “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?” Many people, Ash suggested, have tried to hide from God, curating a public self or running into the busyness and noise of life. But David, and Ash after him, insists there is comfort in realizing God’s presence is not limited to the mountaintop or the temple: it is found in the mess, the ordinary, the painful, even “in the chaos, the questions, the quiet ache.”

This is not the threat of a God from whom you cannot escape, but the promise of a God who refuses to leave us alone with our loneliness. Ash invoked the analogy of little children hiding in plain sight, believing themselves invisible, and how we, too, sometimes believe our hurts, secrets, or doubts are beyond God’s compassion. “Even there,” he reminded us, “his presence can hold. You are never beyond the reach of God.”

Omnipotence and the Wonder of Being Made

From the heights of presence, the psalmist turns toward the miracle of our “sacred origin.” “You knit me together in my mother’s womb…” This is a declaration of God’s intentional, tender creativity. No one here, Ash insisted, is a cosmic accident: “You were imagined by the Creator of the heavens. Handmade. Love-formed. Known.”

Our value and identity, then, are not earned or constructed through productivity, public image, or performance — they are received, as original blessing, from the One who made us and called us “very good.” Even our bodies — aging, aching, sometimes bewildering — are “good enough” for God. Indeed, they are his chosen temples.

Toward Transformation: Surrender and Security

In the closing verses, David prays, “Search me… know my heart… test me and know my anxious thoughts.” Ash lingered here, describing this as not a fearful surrender, but a freeing one — the invitation to allow God into all the rooms of our interior house, even those parts we don’t understand. This courageous vulnerability, he suggested, is the path to true transformation and deep belonging.

There are always places in us that feel “too far gone, too hidden, too painful.” But even there, the promise holds: God’s presence, God’s light, God’s love.

Key Lessons from This Sermon:

1. Your deepest identity is not constructed, but received.
   Before you produce or perform, you belong — simply because you are.

2. God’s presence is relentless, but never punitive.
   There is no place in your life, external or internal, where God cannot meet you.

3. Vulnerability before God is not a risk, but a sanctuary.
   True transformation begins when we trust God enough to stop hiding and let ourselves be fully known.

4. No wound or weakness is beyond God’s comfort or creative power.
   Even in the places we feel most fragmented or lost, God is present, healing, and leading us forward.