Introduction
This is the word of the Lord
Psalm 139:23–24 ESV
23 Search me, O God, and know my heart!
Try me and know my thoughts!
24 And see if there be any grievous way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting!
Let us pray.
It was King David who sang in Psalm 144:3-4
Psalm 144:3–4 ESV
3 O Lord, what is man that you regard him, or the son of man that you think of him?
4 Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow.
For David, the life of man is a vapour, a breath caught in the chill of winter morning.
It is the mist that hovers for a heartbeat and is scattered by the wind.
Our days slip by like shadows—present for a moment, then folded into memory, and finally into silence.
Man is here today and gone tomorrow, David sings—like grass that withers, like a flower that falls when the wind passes over it, and its place knows it no more (Psalm 103:15–16).
It was Paul Washer who once said that most of us will be dead within sixty years, and not long after that, we won’t just be dead—we’ll be forgotten.
Names erased from the minds of great-grandchildren.
All the busy schedules and urgent inboxes and career milestones, now dust in a world that spins on without us.
Yet, this vapour of a man has left such a lasting impression in our hearts, and if there is one characteristic of David that stands out it is that the Scripture gives him this uniquely glorious title of being – ‘a man after God’s own heart’. Acts 13:22
Acts 13:22 ESV
22 And when he had removed him, he raised up David to be their king, of whom he testified and said, ‘I have found in David the son of Jesse a man after my heart, who will do all my will.’
What then does it mean to be a man after God’s own heart?
If you want to know what made David a man after God’s own heart, Psalm 139 is one of the clearest places to look.
This is David stripped of title and crown, writing not as a king or warrior, but as a worshiper, a musician.
It is one of the most intimate, awe-filled reflections on the character of God—and what it means to live before His face.
1. God Knows You Fully (vv. 1–6)
Psalm 139:1–6 ESV
1 O Lord, you have searched me and known me!
2 You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar.
3 You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways.
4 Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
5 You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it.
———
“O Lord, you have searched me and known me!”
God doesn’t glance—He searches. He digs.
He knows what’s under the floorboards. He doesn’t merely watch your life like a security feed.
He reads your soul like a living manuscript, penned in the ink of blood and bone.
He sees your sitting and your rising, your inertia and your ambition.
Every sigh. Every strife. Every tap of your nervous foot underneath the table. And He knows. Not guesses. Knows.
There is an intimate acquaintance here that is of a deep and incredible measure that it is deeply revealing of God’s affection for us.
In a way, this verse serves as a summary of this section where David explores in greater detail exactly what such searching and knowing includes.
“You discern my thoughts from afar.”
Before your brain decides what to think, God is already there.
He knows the kindling in your mind before the match strikes.
God doesn’t read your mind like a clever detective, squinting at your face for clues. No, before your brain decides what to think, before the neurons fire, before the first word even clears the hallway of your mind—He is already there.
We like to think our thoughts are ours—private, internal, manageable. But they’re not. Not before Him.
We are naked in thought as much as we are in body. Every stray notion, every half-baked desire, every subconscious murmur is laid bare before the God who dwells beyond time
He is not guessing. He is not deducing. He is not reacting.
He knows—completely, immediately, perfectly. And He has known from before the foundations of the world what you would wrestle with today.
When Peter tells us in 1 Peter 5:7
1 Peter 5:7 ESV
7 casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.
your anxious thoughts are not foreign to him. From afar, he knows them well.
By saying ‘afar’, David is not intending to say that God is far away in a Psalm where he is establishing that God is intimately near.
Rather, David is trying to show how God’s intimate knowledge of us is unlike human proximity. He is not hindered by distance.
You don’t need to clean up your anxiety before you pray.
You don’t need to slap Bible verses on your panic like duct tape.
You come as you are, thoughts tangled like wires, and trust that He already knows—and He welcomes you still.
There is no use hiding your sin in silence.
Confession is not informing God—it’s agreeing with Him.
Repentance begins when we stop trying to surprise or impress the One who already sees. And when we confess, He is faithful and just to forgive (1 John 1:9).
But God also delights in our joy.
Philippians 4:4 ESV
4 Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.
Don’t rush past those moments—slow down and offer them back to Him.
Joy is not a distraction from spiritual life; it is spiritual life.
And God, who knows your joy more intimately than you do, rejoices over you with singing (Zephaniah 3:17).
“You search out my path and my lying down…”
He walks the roads you walk—every commute, every hallway, every detour and delay.
He knows your schedule better than you do.
He watches your rest, too—not just your work. Every twitch in your sleep. Every dream you forgot by morning.
God is not only the architect of eternity—He is the architect of your Tuesday afternoons.
Your schedule matters to him.
The steps you take in labor—whether behind a desk, at a stove, on a job site, in a classroom, or beside a hospital bed—are not neutral.
They are holy ground.
Every spreadsheet, every project, every diaper changed, every burden lifted—God sees it, walks it, searches it out.
Colossians 3:23 ESV
23 Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men,
Psalm 90:16 ESV
16 Let your work be shown to your servants, and your glorious power to their children.
This verse tells us that God is involved in the whole of our days. That means your calendar is not just a planner—it’s a form of stewardship. It is the architecture of a life lived either toward the glory of God or the glory of self.
We are not called to drift through our days. We are called to walk the path He has laid before us—and to lie down when the day is done, knowing He watches through the night.
Psalm 90:12 ESV
12 So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.
So build your schedule like someone who is being watched—not in fear, but in faith. Build it like someone whose path and rest are searched out by a God who cares.
Work hard. Rest well. Plan on purpose.
“Even before a word is on my tongue… you know it altogether.”
Before the sound pushes past your lips, before the consonants are carved out of breath—He knows.
Every joke. Every half-lie. Every desperate prayer. Every unspoken scream. He doesn’t just know what you say. He knows why you wanted to say it.
He knows every word you will say today and tomorrow.
The words you will regret. The ones you’ll swallow. The ones you’ll sharpen. The ones you’ll whisper in prayer when no one’s listening.
He knows them altogether—not as fragments, not in isolation, but as complete expressions, with their motives, emotions, backstories, and consequences attached.
God knows not just what you say, but why you say it.
He sees behind your sarcasm to your insecurity.
He sees beneath your flattery to your fear of rejection.
He hears the unspoken ache behind your cold silence.
He knows the weight of the prayer you can’t quite say.
Matthew 12:34 ESV
34 You brood of vipers! How can you speak good, when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.
You don’t need to perform in prayer. You don’t need to wrap your petitions in the right phrases to impress God. You can be raw. You can be wordless. He knows it altogether.
Psalm 38:9 ESV
9 O Lord, all my longing is before you; my sighing is not hidden from you.
This means God is the safest place for your unspoken cries—and the surest judge of your idle words.
Speak carefully. And speak freely.
“You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.”
So far in this section we’ve heard of God’s searching and knowing, and this verse talks about what God does with that knowledge.
He adds constraints to our lives. He boxes us in. He sets limits to David’s actions.
Like a father, God’s boundaries are not bondage. They are mercy.
He hems you in so you won’t wander into destruction.
He closes certain doors because the path behind them leads to cliffs.
He places His hand on you like a Father saying, “This is my child. He’s mine. I’m not letting go.”
Psalm 32:8 ESV
8 I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.
“Such knowledge is too wonderful for me…”
And David doesn’t flinch.
He doesn’t say, “This is creepy.” He doesn’t say, “Give me space.” He says, this is wonder.
This is mystery that crushes you in the best way. This is knowing that brings peace instead of panic. This is the thrill of being fully known and not destroyed.
When you truly grasp that God sees everything, knows everything, and still surrounds you with care, your response should not be detachment—it should be devotion. Not, “Why bother?” but “What a God!”
Romans 11:33 ESV
33 Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!
Let your theology not terminate in knowledge alone, but in worship. Let God’s omniscience become your comfort, not your paranoia. Let it strip away your illusions of privacy and plunge you into joyful surrender.
This is not the terror of being watched. It is the joy of being held by the One who knows everything and still refuses to let you go.
2. God Is Always With You (vv. 7–12)
Psalm 139:7–12 ESV
7 Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?
8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
9 If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,”
12 even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.
———
“Where shall I go from your Spirit?”
This next stanza isn’t a question. It’s a confession.
You can’t outrun the ocean when you’re drowning in it.
And you can’t escape the presence of the God who made oxygen, cells, and shadows.
“If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!”
David says, “Let’s say I go up—higher than Babel, past the clouds, into the stars.” God is there.
“Okay, let’s go down. Deep. Beneath the roots. Into Sheol—the land of silence, the grave, the dark.” Still there.
“If I take the wings of the morning…”
If I fly east with the sunrise, at the speed of light—God is there.
“…and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea…”
If I sail west into uncharted water, past the maps, past the legends, past the edge of the ocean where men dare to go—God is there too.
“Even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.”
Even in the place you thought would finally make you feel alone, He’s not afar—He’s searching, knowing and leading.
He’s not just present—He’s holding you.
“If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me…’”
And if David were in despair, “Maybe if I hide in the night… maybe if I bury myself in shame… maybe if I disappear, God won’t see.”
“Even the darkness is not dark to you.”
But God made the night. He named it. He pierced it with stars.
He filled it with the hoots of owls and howls of wolves, and plunged men into dreams.
God doesn’t stumble in the darkness of your sorrow to find his way around. He doesn’t get lost in your confusion.
The dark is as bright as the sun is, for Him.
3. God Created You Purposefully (vv. 13–16)
Psalm 139:13–16 ESV
13 For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.
———
There is now a progression. God’s intimate acquaintance, inescapable presence, and now his unstoppable providence.
God treats us as his children, pursues us as his children, and now we see how he created us intimately as his children.
His affections for you began in the womb while you were still being formed
“For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.”
This is not so much the language of biology, but it’s the language of intimacy.
Thread by thread. Cell by cell.
The God who split seas and scatters stars took His time crafting kidneys, lungs, intestines, and weaving breath and blood and creating a being in the secret dark of a womb.
You were handmade. Stitched. Not indifferently assembled.
“I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
David isn’t bragging. He’s not saying, “Look how great I am,” but “Look how glorious You are.”
He doesn’t praise himself—he praises the Artist. Because being made by God isn’t a cause for ego—it’s a cause for awe.
Fearfully. Wonderfully. Those aren’t throwaway adjectives.
They mean trembling beauty. Crafted complexity.
You are a walking miracle—living, breathing evidence that God doesn’t make junk.
“Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.”
The world may not know it. Your parents may not have seen it.
But David says: “My soul knows.”
Deep down, under all the lies and shame and fear, there is something in you that knows—you are not an accident. You are not worthless. You are not a mistake.
You are one of His works. And all His works are wonderful.
“My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.”
God saw your spine form, each bone interlocking with another in the shadows.
He didn’t need an ultrasound—He saw the flicker of your first heartbeat before any doctor ever would.
The “depths of the earth” is his poetic reference to the womb—mysterious, hidden, holy.
You were invisible to the world. But not to God.
He was already at work, already attentive, already speaking life into your becoming.
“Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.”
God saw you when you weren’t even formed. When you were still shapeless potential, He had already counted your days. Already mapped your timeline. Already written chapter after chapter of your story, before page one even turned.
This is why Christians who are pro-abortion are no more Christian than an atheist wearing a clerical collar.
He didn’t just make your body—He made your path. Your breath. Your birth. Your life. Your losses. Your laughter. Your death. All of it.
Your life isn’t random. It’s authored.
4. God’s Thoughts Toward You Are Precious (vv. 17–18)
Psalm 139:17–18 ESV
17 How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!
18 If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you.
———
“How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!”
Here now is David, breathless after singing the previous verses. Awestruck.
He’s not talking about vague good vibes from the Almighty.
He’s talking about the infinite mind of God aiming its affection toward dust. Toward him.
God isn’t distracted. He isn’t scanning the cosmos hoping someone interesting will show up.
He’s not vaguely “aware” of your existence like a government official reviewing your submission.
He’s thinking—about you. For you.
“How vast is the sum of them!”
You can’t outnumber them.
Try counting sand with a magnifying glass in a sandstorm.
That’s what you’re up against. God’s thoughts are endless. Eternal.
And He’s not wasting them on galaxies or angels while you spiral in fear. He’s investing them—deliberately—on you.
“If I would count them, they are more than the sand. I awake, and I am still with you.”
Sleep can’t cut the cord.
Darkness can’t erase the bond. Death can’t undo the love.
David says, “When I wake up—still You.” Always You.
Not “Where did You go?”
Not “Did You forget me overnight?”
Just: Still here. Still thinking. Still mine.
5. God Calls You to Holiness (vv. 19–24)
Psalm 139:19–24 ESV
19 Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God! O men of blood, depart from me!
20 They speak against you with malicious intent; your enemies take your name in vain.
21 Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord? And do I not loathe those who rise up against you?
22 I hate them with complete hatred; I count them my enemies.
23 Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts!
24 And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!
———
And suddenly, the psalm gets violent. And holy. And serious.
David’s tone shifts—the man after God’s own heart shows us a side of that heart.
David worshiped a righteous King. And he wanted nothing to do with those who hated Him.
“Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God!”
David is being loyal. This isn’t blind hatred.
This is covenant allegiance. He doesn’t just love what God loves—he hates what God hates.
That’s what love does. It draws lines. It picks sides.
“Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord?… I count them my enemies.”
David refuses neutrality. He doesn’t play the middle. He doesn’t keep one foot in the temple and the other in the marketplace of Baal.
He’s not trying to blend in with the world while still belonging to God. He wants Total loyalty.
Don’t mistake this for bitterness. This is covenant jealousy. It’s what Jesus had when He flipped tables and cracked whips in the temple.
And yet, right after all this fire, David turns inward:
“Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts!”
He doesn’t just rage against sin out there—he invites God to purge the sin in here. He knows that hating evil in others is worthless if you don’t invite God to kill it in yourself.
“See if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!”
He doesn’t ask for a good day. Or better feelings.
He asks for the ancient path—the everlasting road of righteousness.
He wants to walk in the old ways that echo with covenant footsteps.
The narrow road. The high road. The bloody, beautiful road of holiness.
Conclusion
Psalm 139 begins with a God who sees everything. It ends with a man who invites that God to see more.
It begins with a God who searches and knows.
It ends with a man who says, “Search me again.”
This is the heart of a man after God’s own heart—not a man who was sinless, but a man who refused to hide. A man who knew that holiness doesn’t come from pretending to be good—it comes from refusing to run.
David was a man who sinned. Badly. Publicly. Fatally. And yet he kept running back to the God who had searched him from the womb. Why? Because he knew that to be fully known and not cast out—that’s the greatest kind of love. That’s covenant love.
———
Yet, Psalm 139, for all its glory, is only a shadow.
A shadow of The Greater David.
• The One who would be knit together in a womb, too—God in flesh. Jesus, the Word made flesh.
• Jesus, who was fully known by the Father and still cried, “Not my will, but yours be done.”
• Jesus, who descended to Sheol so we would never have to ask, “Where can I flee from your presence?”
Jesus, who bore our grievous ways so that we could be led in the everlasting way.
Psalm 139 does not save you—it reveals the One who can.
It exposes your soul, not to shame you, but to bring you home.
And it ends with the only prayer a true disciple can pray:
“Search me. Know me. Lead me.”
Because we don’t just want to be remembered.
We don’t just want to be significant.
We want to be His.
Known by God.
Held by God.
Made holy by the blood of His Son.
That’s the God of Psalm 139.
That’s the God of the Gospel.
That’s the God who leads us in the everlasting way.
Amen.
Let us pray.
