Wilson singing Kris Kristofferson’s Sunday Morning Coming Down, just relaxing in the knowledge that God is merciful. Even for me. I was beginning the process of preparing for next Sunday’s class, reading Psalm 139, switched over to Eugene Peterson’s The Message. Man, that ol’ Catholic priest nailed this paraphrase.
God, investigate my life;
get all the facts firsthand.
Iâ€™m an open book to you;
even from a distance, you know what Iâ€™m thinking.
You know when I leave and when I get back;
Iâ€™m never out of your sight.
You know everything Iâ€™m going to say
before I start the first sentence.
I look behind me and youâ€™re there,
then up ahead and youâ€™re there, tooâ€”
your reassuring presence, coming and going.
This is too much, too wonderfulâ€”
I canâ€™t take it all in!
Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your Spirit?
to be out of your sight?
If I climb to the sky, youâ€™re there!
If I go underground, youâ€™re there!
If I flew on morningâ€™s wings
to the far western horizon,
Youâ€™d find me in a minuteâ€”
youâ€™re already there waiting!
Then I said to myself,
â€œOh, he even sees me in the dark!
At night Iâ€™m immersed in the light!â€
Itâ€™s a fact: darkness isnâ€™t dark to you;
night and day, darkness and light,
theyâ€™re all the same to you.
Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
you formed me in my motherâ€™s womb.
I thank you, High Godâ€”youâ€™re breathtaking!
Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
I worship in adorationâ€”what a creation!
You know me inside and out,
you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, you watched me grow
from conception to birth;
all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
before Iâ€™d even lived one day.
Your thoughtsâ€”how rare, how beautiful!
God, Iâ€™ll never comprehend them!
I couldnâ€™t even begin to count themâ€”
any more than I could count the sand of the sea.
Oh, let me rise in the morning and live always with you!
And please, God, do away with wickedness for good!
And you murderersâ€”out of here!â€”
all the men and women who belittle you, God,
infatuated with cheap god-imitations.
See how I hate those who hate you, God,
see how I loathe all this godless arrogance;
I hate it with pure, unadulterated hatred.
Your enemies are my enemies!
Investigate my life, O God,
find out everything about me;
Cross-examine and test me,
get a clear picture of what Iâ€™m about;
See for yourself whether Iâ€™ve done anything wrongâ€”
then guide me on the road to eternal life.
Wow. All the fancy preachers in the world can’ touch that. May I be worthy to discuss it.