Commentary - Psalm 139:7-12

Bird's-eye view

Following his meditation on God's omniscience in the first six verses, David now turns his attention to the glorious and sometimes terrifying doctrine of God's omnipresence. This is not a dry, abstract attribute for the theologians to debate. For David, and for us, it is a deeply personal reality. There is no place in all of creation where a man can flee from the presence of God. This is a profound comfort for the believer and a source of sheer terror for the unrepentant. David explores the extremities of the cosmos, from the heights of heaven to the depths of Sheol, from the breaking of dawn to the farthest reaches of the sea, and finds that God is already there. Even the darkness, which we naturally associate with hiding and concealment, is as bright as day to Him. God's presence is inescapable, His hand is unavoidable, and His sight is perfect.

The central thrust of this section is that you cannot get away from God because there is nowhere to go that is outside of Him. In Him we live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28). This is not pantheism, where God is identified with the creation. Rather, this is classical theism, where the creation is distinct from the Creator but is everywhere and always sustained by His immediate presence and power. For the man whose sins are forgiven, this is the ultimate security. For the man who is still in his rebellion, this is the ultimate claustrophobia.

Outline

Context In Psalms

Psalm 139 is a wisdom psalm of David, a profound reflection on the nature of God and man's relationship to Him. It moves from God's perfect knowledge (omniscience), to His constant presence (omnipresence), to His intricate work as Creator, and finally to a plea for God to examine the psalmist's own heart. The section we are considering (vv. 7-12) is the heart of the psalm's teaching on omnipresence. It flows directly from the overwhelming realization of God's omniscience in verse 6: "Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain it." The thought of a God who knows everything about you naturally leads to the question of where you can go from such a God. David's answer is, simply, nowhere.

This psalm stands as a corrective to any small thoughts we might have about God. We are tempted to think of God as a bigger, stronger version of ourselves, a being who is located in one place (like heaven) and has to travel to get to another. David demolishes such childish notions. God fills heaven and earth (Jer. 23:24). He is not contained by the universe; the universe is contained by Him.

Clause-by-Clause Commentary

v. 7 Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence?

David begins with two rhetorical questions that expect the same answer: nowhere. The questions are a form of Hebrew parallelism, where the second line restates or intensifies the first. "Your Spirit" and "Your presence" are synonymous here. To be in the presence of God is to be where His Spirit is, and His Spirit is everywhere. This is not some impersonal force, like electricity or gravity. The Spirit is a Person, the third Person of the Trinity, and His presence is personal. The question is not academic. It carries the weight of a man who has felt the pressing reality of God's gaze. It can be the cry of a guilty conscience, like Adam hiding in the garden, or the plea of a saint who desires to never be outside of God's care. For Jonah, the attempt to flee God's presence was the height of folly. For the believer, the impossibility of fleeing is the bedrock of his security.

v. 8 If I ascend to heaven, You are there; If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there.

David now explores the vertical axis of creation. "Heaven" is the highest conceivable point, the very dwelling place of God's manifest glory. Of course God is there. That is the easy part. But then David goes to the opposite extreme: "Sheol." Sheol in the Old Testament is the abode of the dead, the grave, the underworld. It is a place of darkness and silence. If there were any place you might think was outside God's jurisdiction, this would be it. But David says, "behold, You are there." The word "behold" is a call to attention, to marvel at this truth. God's sovereignty and presence extend even to the realm of the dead. He is Lord of the living and the dead. This is not to say that the experience of God's presence is the same in heaven and Sheol. In heaven, His presence is life and joy. In Sheol, for the wicked, it is judgment and wrath. But He is present in both places, sustaining all things by His power.

v. 9 If I lift up the wings of the dawn, If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea,

Having dealt with the vertical, David now turns to the horizontal. "The wings of the dawn" is a beautiful poetic image for the speed of light. Imagine hitching a ride on the first rays of the morning sun as they shoot across the sky from east to west. You could travel at an unimaginable speed to the "remotest part of the sea," which for a Hebrew meant the far western horizon of the Mediterranean. You could go as far east as possible, as fast as possible, to the farthest west imaginable. You could put as much distance between your starting point and your destination as the created order allows. And what would you find when you got there?

v. 10 Even there Your hand will lead me, And Your right hand will lay hold of me.

The result of this cosmic flight is not escape, but divine escort. "Even there," in that remotest part, God is waiting. More than waiting, His hand is active. Two actions are described. First, "Your hand will lead me." This is the gentle, guiding hand of a shepherd. It speaks of providence, care, and direction. It is a comfort to the child of God to know that no matter how far he may roam, or how lost he may feel, the guiding hand of his Father is there. Second, "Your right hand will lay hold of me." The right hand is the hand of power and authority. This can be a comforting grasp of security, keeping the believer from falling. Or, for the one in rebellion, it can be the arresting grip of a sovereign from whom there is no escape. The same hand that leads the sheep also seizes the goat. The omnipresence of God is either a great comfort or a great terror, depending entirely on your relationship to Him through Christ.

v. 11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will bruise me, And the light around me will be night,”

David considers one last potential refuge: the darkness. He personifies the darkness, imagining it might "bruise" or "cover" him. The idea is to be hidden, to become invisible under the cloak of night. Man instinctively associates darkness with secrecy. The evil deed is done at night. The fugitive travels by night. If God's presence is tied to the light, then perhaps in absolute darkness one could find a pocket of non-God space. Perhaps the light of God's presence that is "around me" could be turned into night, effectively snuffing it out.

v. 12 Even the darkness is not too dark for You, And the night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light are alike to You.

This final hope of escape is utterly dashed. For God, there is no such thing as darkness. What we call darkness is not dark to Him. His perception is not dependent on photons of light. He sees all things, at all times, in all conditions, with perfect clarity. "The night is as bright as the day." This is a staggering statement. It means there are no secrets from God. No thought, word, or deed is ever truly hidden. He dwells in unapproachable light (1 Tim. 6:16), and from that vantage point, all our pathetic attempts at concealment are futile. For the believer, this is a profound comfort. He who sees everything is the one who has promised to care for us. For the unbeliever, this is the final nail in the coffin of his rebellion. The final judgment will be based on a perfect record, because nothing was ever hidden from the eyes of the Judge.

Application

The doctrine of God's omnipresence is not a dusty theological concept; it is intensely practical. First, it is a massive encouragement to holy living. If you truly believe that God is with you, right now, in the room where you are reading this, how does that change things? How does it affect what you look at on the internet, the words you say to your spouse, or the thoughts you entertain in your heart? There is no place for a secret sin because there are no secret places.

Second, it is the ultimate comfort in times of trial and loneliness. Are you in the hospital? He is there. Are you in the depths of depression, what feels like Sheol? He is there. Have you moved to a new city where you know no one? His hand will lead you. You cannot be sent to a place where God is not. His presence is your constant companion and your ever-present help in trouble.

Finally, this doctrine should drive us to the gospel. If there is no escape from the presence of the holy God, then our only hope is to be rightly related to Him. For the sinner, the omnipresence of God is a terrifying reality. It means that wherever you go, you are in the presence of the one you have offended. But God, in His mercy, has made a way for His presence to be a joy and not a terror. He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to bear our sins on the cross. By trusting in Christ, we are clothed in His righteousness, and the presence of God becomes our greatest delight. The one from whom we once tried to flee becomes the one to whom we now run for refuge.