It came to me in my first wakeful thoughts—that verse: “The eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him.” Over and over, I repeated those words, wondering why they buzzed in my mind with the persistence of the carpenter bees around my shed. I sensed a message for me there.
“The eyes of the Lord . . .”
“The eyes of the Lord. . .”
Was this comforting or convicting that the eyes of the Lord were on me? And where did that verse come from? I couldn’t place it, but I knew it was from Psalms. After a fruitless search, I decided the Lord didn’t want me to know the context, only to bask in those words, “The eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him.”
What did it mean? Oh, I knew what it meant in biblical theology. But what did it mean to me, that day? What was the Lord saying, through his Spirit, right now?
I chewed those words all day. They remained in the forefront of my thoughts, the filter through which I thought all other thoughts.
This morning, when I woke, I remembered those words, and in a heartbeat, it came to me: knowing. The intimacy of the Lord’s seeing me means he knows me. In the moment, I felt utterly revealed before him. He knows my concerns about certain health issues, parenting issues, writing endeavors. He knows the silent grumblings of my heart and my “I wish” thoughts. But more than knowing about them, He has the answers. He has the wisdom I need.
When Nate and I were first married, we had this game where we’d try to be the one watching the other sleep. You were the loser if you were the sleeper. For my early-rising husband, winning was easy. I’d wake to his eyes on me. He’d been watching me, and I’d not even known it.
It’s like that with the Lord. He is always watching, even when we are unaware, and his gaze is one of love. A knowing gaze. There are times we feel like Hagar, the cast off handmaiden who sat down in the desert and sobbed. The Lord saw her, heard her, even when no one else did. At other times, we might feel like we live in the spotlight, seen by all, but not truly known. Even in our closest relationships, we may face times of feeling unknown, misunderstood.
The eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him. He knows.
When the Lord impresses his words on us, we’d best listen. We’d best say, “Thank you. Now have your way with me.” So here’s my takeaway: I am the Lord’s, and he knows me. I am not forgotten or unseen, but known, in the deepest sense of the word. He has things to say to me. I need to pay attention to his wisdom.
What is the whisper of his Spirit to you today? Chew those words. Don’t let loose of them until you get to the why of them. He’ll lead you to understanding.
This is my first visit – I linked from the Books and Such blog, and what caught my attention was the way you ended your comment…
“y’all”.
I love the sound of that!
Interesting post, on being watched. I once worked in a field in which I was a ‘watcher’, generally through optics, and occasionally provided what might be called “tactical interdiction”.
I’m watched, all the time, and not only by God. I have two PTSD service dogs, and one or the other of them is always watching me. I get up, they get up. If I freeze, as if I might be having a flashback, they’ll intervene.
If I doze off (which is rare, because dreams are to be avoided) they will be with me, and wake me at the slightest sign of trouble.
They walk post in my life, so I can finally stand down. Perhaps there is a reason why God and dog are anagrams of one another.
We do share a common interest – I was a runner for much of my life. 8-10 miles a day for several decades, deployments excepted.
God bless!
Wow, Andrew. Your dogs sound amazing and seem like a great reflection of how God watches over you. Great to connect with you.
Thank you for encouraging me this morning. I love that God gave you scripture to ponder on all day.