To Know it Very Well

1. Rediscovering a Familiar Truth

Psalm 139 is one of those passages we’ve heard countless times — quoted in sermons, printed on coffee mugs, recited at baby dedications, and shared during moments when we need a reminder of who we are in God. It’s a beautiful, poetic declaration of our divine design. But sometimes, when a verse becomes too familiar, we skim over it without letting its truth really sink in.

Today, I decided to slow down. I read each verse word by word, and something stirred in me. As I sat with the text, I realized how deeply personal these words are. This isn’t just David talking about God in a poetic way — it’s David experiencing God, reflecting on His intimate knowledge of every detail of our lives. And in that reflection, I found myself uncovering something new — something I needed to hear.

So many of us, myself included, wake up each day and quietly question our worth. We measure ourselves against expectations, against others, against our past mistakes or our present struggles. We wonder if we’re doing enough, being enough, becoming enough.

But Scripture interrupts that doubt with truth. Psalm 139 reminds us that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Not accidentally. Not carelessly. With divine precision and overflowing love, the Creator of the universe took time to design every part of who we are — our personalities, our quirks, our gifts, and even our limitations.

Before we ever took a breath, God knew exactly what He was doing.
He saw the timeline of our lives — every joy, every detour, every heartbreak, every victory — and He called it good.

He didn’t make mistakes when He made you. He didn’t make mistakes when He made me. You were woven with purpose, handcrafted by the same God who painted the skies and placed the stars — and He looks at you and calls you His masterpiece.

2. When Understanding Fails, Trust Begins

Even David — a man after God’s own heart — struggled to fully grasp this truth as he reflected on God’s presence in his life. He wrote, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it.”

I find that so comforting. Even David, the great psalmist, the warrior-king who walked so closely with God, admitted that he couldn’t wrap his mind around the depth of God’s love and the magnitude of His presence. It was simply too wonderful.

And honestly, I get that. No matter how hard I try (and I really do try), I will never be able to fully comprehend the Father’s love for me. My human mind is too limited to understand the infinite — the way He sees me, the way He plans for me, the way He weaves every detail together for good.

This is where trust takes over. This is where faith has to bridge the gap between what I understand and what I believe. Because faith isn’t about having all the answers — it’s about resting in the One who does.

I have to trust that His ways are higher, even when mine feel clearer. I have to trust that His timing is perfect, even when my patience wears thin. I have to trust that His purpose for my life is unfolding, even when I can’t see the path ahead.

And I’ll be honest — that’s not easy. Trust requires surrender. It means releasing my need to control the outcome, to understand every detail, to predict how the story will end. But as I let go, I find peace in knowing that God’s hands are steady, even when mine shake.

David’s words remind me that it’s okay not to “get it.” It’s okay not to understand the fullness of God’s plan. My role isn’t to figure it out — it’s to trust the One who already has.

So I choose to rest in that truth today:

Even when I don’t understand, I can still trust.
Even when I can’t see, I can still believe.
Because I was created with divine purpose — and that’s enough.

3. Knowing It “Very Well”

David recognized that he was fearfully and wonderfully made. He understood that he wasn’t just another creation in the crowd — he was intentionally designed by the hand of God. We are, too. Each of us is a unique, marvelous, and complex reflection of His creativity and care.

David goes on to say, “Wonderful are Your works; my soul knows it very well.” Those words have been echoing in my heart. This has become my prayer today — that I would “know it very well.”

That I could truly comprehend how wonderful God created me to be. That I could look beyond insecurity, past mistakes, or unmet expectations and see myself the way God does — fearfully and wonderfully made.

David was sure of his worth because he was sure of God’s hand on his life. He didn’t confuse confidence with pride. His assurance wasn’t rooted in self-importance but in divine awareness. He knew who he was because he knew whose he was. That kind of certainty is powerful — not because it glorifies self, but because it glorifies the One who created us.

I want that same assurance. I want to “know it very well.” I want to see the me that God sees — the one He knit together with purpose, gifted with potential, and covered with grace. I want to walk in the confidence of that creation — not striving to prove my worth, but resting in it.

Psalm 139 reminds me that I was created with intention and with great purpose. God didn’t just form me; He planned me. He wrote out every one of my days before a single one came to be. Every season, every joy, every heartache — all of it was seen and known by Him before it ever unfolded.

So why do I worry about tomorrow? Why do I question my worth? If the Author of life took time to write my story with care, then my only task is to trust Him with the next chapter. I am His workmanship — fearfully, wonderfully, and intentionally made. And today, my prayer remains simple:

Lord, help my soul to know it very well.

4. Guarding Our Worth

In verse 19, David makes a rather jarring transition. After spending so much time reflecting on God’s presence — His omniscience, His intimacy, His creative power — David suddenly shifts and asks God to “slay the wicked.”

At first glance, this feels abrupt, almost out of place. But when I sit with it, I begin to see the wisdom in that shift. David’s reflection on God’s holiness naturally leads him to a recognition of what is not holy — what does not belong in the presence of the One who made him. He realizes his worth in God’s eyes and refuses to be devalued by anything that stands against that truth.

That realization challenges me deeply. When I reflect on my own life — my decisions, my distractions, my struggles — I have to acknowledge how often I allow things that are not of God to occupy my heart. Whether it’s fear, control, comparison, or impatience, these things slowly chip away at the confidence and peace that God intended me to hold.

David’s boldness in asking God to remove what is wicked isn’t about hatred toward others — it’s about holiness within himself. He’s saying, “God, if it doesn’t honor You, take it away.” It’s a declaration of trust — a willingness to let God purify what no human effort can.

That’s an important concept we miss today. Allowing things that are not of God into our lives distracts us from the worth and freedom He designed for us. We cling to what we think we need, not realizing that what we hold onto may be the very thing holding us back.

And for someone like me — someone who struggles with the need to maintain control — this becomes a daily prayer:

“Lord, if it’s not good for me, if it doesn’t worship You, if it wasn’t written in Your book, close the door. Take it out of my life. Help me trust that You can see what I cannot. Protect me from myself — from my control, my impatience, my need to understand everything.”

Learning to let go is an act of worship. It’s a form of trust. And it’s in that surrender that I rediscover my worth — not defined by what I can manage or achieve, but by the One who holds it all together.

5. Surrendering Again and Again

“Search me, O God, and know my heart! Test me and know my anxious thoughts.”

I’ve always found this part of Psalm 139 both powerful and humbling. After everything David has just expressed — after reflecting on God’s omniscience, His presence, His creation — he ends with a plea for God to search him again.

It’s fascinating, isn’t it? David began the psalm with, “O Lord, You have searched me and known me,” acknowledging that God already knows every thought before it’s spoken and every step before it’s taken. Yet here, at the end, he invites God to do it again: “Search me, O God, and know my heart.”

If David knows that God has already searched him, why repeat the request?

The only explanation is surrender. David isn’t reminding God of anything — he’s reminding himself. He’s saying, “Lord, I know You’ve already seen me fully, but I’m choosing to open myself to You again. I’m giving You permission to work in places I’ve tried to keep hidden.”

That’s the heart of true faith — not just knowing that God sees us, but welcoming His gaze. It’s one thing to acknowledge that God knows our hearts; it’s another to invite Him to search them.

When I pray this verse, I realize it’s not a passive statement — it’s an act of courage. It means allowing God to expose what needs healing, to confront what needs changing, and to remove what no longer belongs. It’s the ultimate form of surrender — opening every corner of my heart and saying, “Have Your way.”

And then there’s the second part: “Test me and know my anxious thoughts.” David doesn’t shy away from his anxiety; he brings it to God. He recognizes that the same God who knit him together also knows the very things that make his heart race and his mind spiral.

David’s repetition isn’t redundancy; it’s renewal. It’s the rhythm of faith — to continually invite God back in, to make space for Him to work again, and again, and again.

6. From Job’s Questions to God’s Answers

This passage stands in sharp contrast to God’s words to Job in chapter 38. After thirty-seven chapters of questions, debates, and human attempts to make sense of suffering, the reader expects that God will finally explain it all — that He’ll give Job the answers he’s been pleading for.

But God doesn’t do that.

Instead, He speaks to Job out of a whirlwind. He doesn’t offer explanations; He offers perspective. God takes Job on a breathtaking tour of creation, asking a series of questions meant not to humiliate, but to humble: “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Can you command the morning? Do you know where light dwells?”

God’s words don’t directly address Job’s pain — but they do something even more profound. They pull Job’s focus from his suffering back to the Creator. Through those questions, God invites Job not to understanding, but to wonder.

It’s a powerful moment of divine redirection.

David, in Psalm 139, marvels at the sheer, unfathomable magnitude of God’s omniscient and omnipresent nature — a God who knows us intimately and walks with us through every moment. Job, on the other hand, encounters that same God from a place of questioning and sorrow. Where David stands in awe, Job stands in anguish. Yet both arrive at the same truth: God is greater than we can comprehend.

The Lord even begins His rebuke to Job with a piercing question: “Who is this that obscures My plans with words without knowledge?” It’s as if God is saying, “You’re trying to fit My glory into human reasoning — and it simply doesn’t fit.”

After being confronted by God’s majesty for three full chapters, Job finally admits what all of us need to confess at some point:

“You asked, ‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’ Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.” (Job 42:3)

And that’s the moment of transformation — when Job stops striving for answers and starts surrendering to trust.

That’s the same lesson David teaches us in Psalm 139. Whether we are marveling at God’s presence or wrestling through pain, both men remind us of this unshakable truth:

God is in control. We are not.
He knows tomorrow. We do not.
And when we finally release our need to understand and let Him have His way, He leads us into something far greater — complete restoration and redemption.

7. A Prayer for Worth and Surrender

“Search me, O God, and know my heart.
Help me understand my worth and who You created me to be.
Help me to ‘know it very well’ — how intentional You were in forming me.
Remove anything that hinders my closeness to You.
Test me and know my anxious thoughts.
Help me surrender them all to You.”

Live Worthi.ly

Anna G.