Known Through and Through: David’s Journey in Psalm 139

Part IV

Last week, we journeyed through the middle sections of Psalm 139, reflecting on God’s omnipresence and His creative power. We marveled at the beauty of being “fearfully and wonderfully made” and wrestled with the reality that there is no place, no circumstance, where we can escape God’s presence. These truths called us to a place of both reverence and trust—a posture of embracing the God who knows us completely and walks with us through every moment of our existence. As we now turn to the final verses, the psalm takes an unexpected turn. From the heights of wonder at God’s knowledge and care, David leads us into a sobering reflection on human rebellion and a heartfelt plea for divine intervention in his own life. It is here that the psalm moves from meditation to moral confrontation, drawing us deeper into the tension between divine justice and personal accountability.

As we step into the final verses of Psalm 139, the tone shifts dramatically. The psalm that began with awe-filled declarations of God’s omniscience and omnipresence now enters a space of deep emotional intensity and moral confrontation. David, who marvels at God’s intimate knowledge of his being, turns his gaze outward in condemnation of the evildoers who defy this same God. Yet, as quickly as his righteous indignation rises, it is tempered by a startling inward turn—a vulnerable plea for God’s continued searching and refining work within himself.

This transition reflects the psalm’s ultimate purpose: to bring David—and by extension, you and me—into an honest reckoning with both the external and internal realities of life lived before an all-seeing, all-knowing God. It is here that the abstract truths about God’s character meet the personal realities of David’s heart. In these closing verses, the psalmist demonstrates the courage to hold together divine justice and personal accountability, inviting God to examine not only the actions of the wicked but the hidden recesses of his own soul.

The Transition In David’s Consciousness

Samuel Terrien highlights the startling transition in verses 19–24, where David’s vehement condemnation of evildoers suddenly gives way to a vulnerable plea for God’s continued searching gaze:

23 Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me and know my anxious thoughts; 24 And see if there be any hurtful way in me and lead me in the everlasting way.

Consider Terrien’s commentary at this point:

“This harassed child asks for more ‘divine examination, scrutiny, and search.’ And even for testing and trial”^[1].

Terrien’s description of David as a "harassed child" highlights the paradox at the heart of the psalmist’s plea. This is not the cry of someone confident in their own righteousness but of someone deeply conscious of their vulnerability and dependence on God. To ask for further testing and trial from the very God whose omnipresence has at times felt overwhelming is an act of both essential trust and courageous surrender.

David’s request reflects a willingness to embrace the tension of divine examination—a tension that acknowledges his limitations while appealing to God’s justice and mercy. It is not the bold demand of someone assured of vindication but the humble prayer of one who understands that the path to clarity, healing, and transformation lies in being fully exposed before the One who knows all. Terrien’s insight reveals that this paradoxical plea stems not from defiance but from a faith that trusts God’s purposes even in the midst of scrutiny.

By holding together verses 7–12, 13–18, and 23–24, we see the psalmist wrestling with his humanity—the desire to ascend, to descend, to flee, and, finally, to be seen. In every scenario, he finds the same unshakable truth: God is there. The shift from anxious resistance to surrendered invitation marks the psalm’s culmination. David’s prayer to “search me, O God” becomes not a fearful request but an act of trust, grounded in his growing awareness of God’s intimate and sustaining presence.

By the time David reaches this closing prayer, his focus has shifted from the evil outside to the darker, more elusive realities within. He is acutely aware that evil dwells in the shadowy corridors of his own heart—so deep that while he feels its influence, he cannot discern its roots. In this, David recognizes his need for the One who "searches all things" and knows him fully to examine and guide him toward truth and wholeness.

"Search" originates from the Hebrew root ḥqr, meaning "explore, examine, test," a term that exists exclusively in Hebrew with limited usage in Aramaic texts^[2]. The choice of this word in David’s prayer invites a divine inquiry that moves beyond the surface to the hidden and complex realities within his heart. This invitation is not casual but deliberate, recognizing that while David can sense the influence of certain inner conflicts, he cannot uncover their full depths without God’s intervention.

Clifford Mayes describes how all people hold

“ultimate convictions, ‘fiduciary commitments,’...that consciously or unconsciously guide us in our thinking and acting.”^[3]

David’s request to be searched reflects such a commitment—his trust in God to reveal and address what may remain obscured within him. Mayes further notes that

“ultimacy carries us beyond the realm of propositional truth and into the realm of what must be called faith,”^[4]

...highlighting the deeply relational aspect of David’s prayer. This movement toward faith underscores David’s willingness to entrust his inner life to God’s examination.

Mayes then draws on Carl Jung’s observation that

“without feeling that one is in contact with something ultimate, one will be far less integrated, efficacious, and humane.”^[5]

David’s request for God to “search” and “test” his heart resonates with this need for connection to the ultimate. Jung’s insight highlights how such a connection fosters wholeness and integrity, addressing the inner fragmentation that often remains hidden. David’s reliance on God reflects a commitment to being examined and understood in a way that surpasses his own ability to self-assess.

David the makes this plea, "know my heart". In the text, what is employed is the Hebrew verb יָדַע (yada), which encompasses both the initiation and completion of knowing—ranging from "to perceive" to "to be acquainted," and ultimately "to know intimately."^[6] David is giving voice to his yearning for what I would argue is deeper union with Yahweh, desiring to be fully known and to also grow in understanding. It suggests not a static awareness but an ongoing relational dynamic.

In many ways, when David prays, "know my heart," his longing carries an eschatological weight, anticipating the mystical union with Christ. While David could only glimpse this reality through the intimation of the Spirit, his visceral sense of this resonates with what St. Symeon the New Theologian describes as the resurrection and union of the soul with God. St. Symeon writes,

“The resurrection of the soul is union with life. The body is dead and cannot live or be called alive unless it receives the living soul in itself and is joined to it, though not mingled with it. Likewise, the soul cannot live unless it is ineffably and without confusion united to God, who is truly the life eternal”.^[7]

This union, Symeon argues, brings the soul into knowledge, vision, and perception of eternal life, transforming it from a state of death to one of divine vitality^[8].

David’s prayer anticipates this union in its longing for a deeper knowledge of God—a knowledge that is not merely intellectual but experiential, rooted in the ineffable communion between God and the human soul. As Symeon notes,

“Before this union in knowledge, vision, and perception it [the soul] is dead, even though it is endowed with intellect and is by nature immortal”.^[9]

The soul’s true life begins when it enters into contemplation and perceives “the mystical activity” of God^[10]. David’s desire to be known by God reflects this same yearning, a deep call to move beyond intellectual assent into the life-giving embrace of divine union.

For readers, this prayer invites them to consider their own longings to be “known” by the One who already knows them completely. Symeon’s words remind us that this knowing is not static but unfolds as the soul is drawn into deeper contemplation and transformed by the life of Christ.

“Through His resurrection in us it comes into being in us, is shown to us, and is seen by us”.^[11]

David’s prayer, then, is not simply a plea but an invitation to participate in the transformative and relational knowledge of God.

Given that David became king at 30, reigned for 40 years, and passed away around 70 years of age, it is reasonable to situate Psalm 139 within a period of life where he has forded the middle passage and entered a season of mature reflection^[12]. The psalm’s introspective nature and its themes of searching and knowing reflect the kind of spiritual depth and self-awareness often associated with this stage of life. As scholars have noted, Psalm 139

“brings us face to face with the majesty and power of God,” emphasizing that “all of man’s life is in God’s hands”.^[13]

These insights seem to comport with the shifts that occur during the second half of life, when earlier certainties are revisited, and deeper questions of purpose and identity emerge.

Carl Jung captures the tension of this transition in Modern Man in Search of a Soul:

“Thoroughly unprepared we take the step into the afternoon of life; worse still, we take this step with the false presupposition that our truths and ideals will serve us as hitherto. But we cannot live the afternoon of life according to the programme of life's morning—for what was great in the morning will be little at evening, and what in the morning was true will at evening have become a lie”.^[14]

David’s prayer reflects this very shift, as he opens himself to divine searching and knowing, recognizing that the structures and assumptions of earlier years may no longer suffice for the journey ahead.

This prayer, therefore, is not the request of a man who has yet to confront the complexities of life, but one who has experienced its fullness—its joys, its failures, its questions—and now seeks to integrate these experiences in light of God’s unchanging presence. Jung speaks of midlife as a time when the ego begins to loosen its grip, and individuation becomes essential for psychological wholeness.

David’s willingness to be searched and known mirrors this process, but it also transcends it. For David, this act of knowing is not merely a psychological exercise but a relational act, one rooted in trust that God’s knowing will bring not only understanding but transformation.

Mayes’ developmental perspective deepens this reflection, emphasizing that the process of individuation is not confined to midlife but is a continuous unfolding across the lifespan. David’s prayer demonstrates the universal relevance of this process, inviting individuals at any stage to open themselves to divine searching and embrace the transformative work of being fully known. By anchoring his search for meaning and integration in God’s unchanging nature, David offers a model for navigating life’s transitions with faith and courage.

Mayes’ helps us appreciate how individuation unfolds differently across the lifespan, and says as much when he affirms:

“...it is probably true, as Jung suggested, that it is at midlife and beyond that individuation becomes an especially pressing matter...”^[15]

What David’s prayer reminds us all of is that the deepest form of integration comes in relationship with the Triune God. His words invite us to consider our own process of being known—not just by ourselves but by the One who knows us better than we know ourselves, offering the possibility of transformation and wholeness in every stage of life.

From a perspective of lived experience, the act of being known by another, particularly by the divine, underscores the relational nature of human existence. Martin Buber’s concept of the "I-Thou" relationship emphasizes the mutual and reciprocal connection between individuals, elevating the encounter beyond mere observation into an engaged relationship. For Buber, the "I-Thou" relationship emphasizes a direct, mutual, and holistic encounter between beings, where each is fully present to the other without objectification. The "I-Thou" relation finds its purest form in the relationship between man and God, which Buber describes as the "Eternal Thou." He writes,

“The basic and purest form of this relation is that between man and God (the Eternal Thou), which is the model for and makes possible I-Thou relations between human beings. The relation between man and God, however, is always an I-Thou one, whereas that between man and man is very frequently an I-It one, in which the other being is treated as an object of thought or action”^[16].

David’s prayer in Psalm 139 exemplifies the "I-Thou" dynamic in its purest form. His desire to be fully known by God reflects an encounter not rooted in observation or analysis but in transformative relationship. This is not a distant or transactional request; David invites God into the very core of his being, asking to be searched, tested, and refined. Such vulnerability speaks to the intimate nature of the "I-Thou" relationship with the Eternal Thou—a God who not only sees but knows, who not only observes but engages.

For Buber, this divine-human encounter is the foundation for all authentic human relationships. By experiencing God as the Eternal Thou, David models what it means to live relationally before the divine, where identity is formed not in isolation but in the context of communion. This relational posture allows the psalm to move from awe and wonder to confrontation and accountability. It challenges us to consider whether we, like David, are willing to step into an "I-Thou" relationship with God, allowing ourselves to be known and transformed in the process.

The Hebrew root bḥn (בָּחוֹן, bāchôn) carries the meaning “to try” or “to put to the test.”^[17] In the Old Testament, as well as in Sirach and the Qumran texts, the verb consistently refers to an act of testing or proving, often in a context of refinement or examination^[18]. Unlike other roots associated with testing or distinguishing, bḥn uniquely conveys the idea of probing the character, qualities, or faithfulness of an individual^[19].

When David prays, “try me,” he is not merely asking for a casual inspection but inviting God to engage in a process of testing that penetrates to the core of his being. The verb’s later development in Mishnaic and Amoraic Hebrew includes meanings such as “to distinguish” or “to examine,” but the biblical usage retains its deeper connotation of testing with purpose^[20]. It reflects a request for God to reveal what is true, distinguishing between what is pure and what is impure within him.

David realizes that this is an essential process of refinement and purification that needs to take place within him. He has come to a place, at this season in his life where he sees such an examination by Yahweh, not as punitive, but as that which serves to purify and strengthen him. His willingness to submit himself to this process reveals an essential trust in God’s justice and mercy—an acknowledgment that such testing will ultimately lead to greater clarity, integrity, and harmony with God’s purposes.

He then prays, “know my anxious thoughts”. The Hebrew term שַׂרְעַפִּים (śarʿapîm) carries significant weight. Linguistically, the word conveys “disturbing, disquieting thoughts” and reflects a deeper psychological and spiritual unease^[21]. Kidner, in reading from the New English Bible, favors the term “misgivings” and distinguishes it from the simpler “thoughts” used in verse 2. He notes that śarʿapîm refers to “restless, ramifying cogitations,” evoking the inner conflict described in Psalm 94:19 as “cares” or the tension expressed in Mark 9:24: “I believe; help my unbelief”^[22].

Kidner’s embrace of “misgivings” highlights the emotional and spiritual sensitivity within David’s prayer. By suggesting this translation, he expresses that David is grappling not just with surface-level thoughts but with a deeper inner fragmentation—unresolved tensions that challenge his faith and sense of peace. These “misgivings” are persistent and unsettling, signaling a need for divine intervention to bring clarity and rest.

These stirrings act as signals from the shadowy places of David’s psyche, pointing to aspects of himself that remain hidden or unresolved. Whether they arise from repressed emotions, unexamined fears, or situational anxieties, these impulses demand attention. David’s prayer reveals his willingness to bring these hidden dimensions into the light, trusting God to search and know him fully. This relational approach allows him to address his inner unrest not with avoidance or self-reliance but with humility and dependence on God’s transforming presence.

For us, David’s example offers a way of navigating our own inner unease. These signals are not problems in themselves but invitations to explore deeper activity within us, where God’s care and grace can bring healing and clarity. Instead of ignoring or being overwhelmed by our unrest, we are invited to confront it in the light of God’s searching and redemptive work.

Like David, we must be willing to confront the brokenness within us—brokenness that is often deeply intertwined with the beauty we bear as image-bearers of God. This confrontation requires humility to acknowledge that we too are in need of healing from the evil that has estranged us from wholeness. It is not a one-time event but an ongoing process, woven throughout our lifespan by the sanctifying work of the Spirit. The Spirit, ever a healing presence, works tirelessly within us, driving out all that is rooted in torment, fear, and punishment, replacing it with peace, love, and the freedom to live fully in God’s grace.

David then owns the presence of the “hurtful”. The Hebrew root ʿṣb (עצב), carries layered meanings that touch on grief, difficulty, and toil. In Biblical Hebrew, the verb ʿṣb is semantically tied to being “grieved” or “distressed,” though its related nouns suggest a broader range of connotations, including the idea of “difficulty” or “being in trouble”^[23]. This root reveals a sense of heaviness, emotional strain, and relational fracture, whether with God, others, or within oneself^[24]. Reflecting back on Kidner’s interpretation of “hurtful”, he favors again the NEB translation “any path that grieves Thee”.Obviously this reflects that broader sense of something that is not only damaging to David but also displeasing to God and potentially harmful to others^[25]. Kidner emphasizes that sin is never isolated; it has relational consequences that ripple outward. St. Paul says as much in Romans 14:7-9,

For not one of us lives for himself, and not one dies for himself; for if we live, we live for the Lord, or if we die, we die for the Lord; therefore, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s. For to this end Christ died and lived again, that He might be Lord both of the dead and of the living.

In terms of Depth Psychology, “hurtful ways” could point to patterns or paths deeply embedded in the unconscious—behaviors, attitudes, or impulses that, if left unexamined, cause harm to both us and others. Again, the shadow is equally relevant here, as these “hurtful ways” may be indeed be expressions of those repressed elements of the self that have not been brought into conscious awareness or integrated. Truth be told, if we ignore these elements, it can lead to destructive outcomes, both inwardly and outwardly.

David’s prayer reflects an acute awareness of this reality. His invitation for God to search him and reveal “hurtful ways” is an acknowledgment that he may not fully grasp the depth of these tendencies on his own. He relies on God’s insight to illuminate the paths that need correction, healing, or transformation.

Kidner’s insight that these ways are “never an isolated incident” speak to the view that unresolved aspects of the psyche often manifest in repeated patterns of behavior. These patterns may be rooted in unacknowledged grief, unresolved anger, or the toil of carrying emotional or spiritual burdens that have never been surrendered to God. David’s willingness to confront these internal incongruences demonstrates an essential, child-like openness to being refined and redirected. It is a posture of trust, acknowledging that God’s searching is not punitive but restorative.

For us, David’s prayer calls us to healthy introspection and surrender. He challenges us to recognize that the “hurtful ways” in our lives—whether visible or buried in the unconscious—require the intervention of the One who knows us fully. The Spirit, as the sanctifying presence, works to heal and integrate all these shadowy dimensions, bringing light to the places that grieve and weigh us down. This process, though often uncomfortable, is ultimately liberating, leading us away from paths of harm and toward the way everlasting. That “way everlasting” is ultimately the One who is “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6a).

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^[1] Samuel Terrien, The Psalms: Strophic Structure and Theological Commentary, The Eerdmans Critical Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2003), 878

^[2] M. Tsevat, “חָקַר,” ed. G. Johannes Botterweck and Helmer Ringgren, trans. David E. Green, Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1986), 148.

^[3] Clifford Mayes, An Introduction to the Collected Works of C. G. Jung: Psyche as Spirit (Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2016), 13.

^[4] Clifford Mayes, An Introduction to the Collected Works of C. G. Jung: Psyche as Spirit (Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2016), 13.

^[5] Clifford Mayes, An Introduction to the Collected Works of C. G. Jung: Psyche as Spirit (Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2016), 14.

^[6] Wilhelm Gesenius and Samuel Prideaux Tregelles, Gesenius’ Hebrew and Chaldee Lexicon to the Old Testament Scriptures (Bellingham, WA: Logos Bible Software, 2003), 333.

^[7] Symeon, Symeon the New Theologian: The Discourses, ed. Richard J. Payne, trans. C. J. de Catanzaro, The Classics of Western Spirituality (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1980), 182.

^[8] Symeon, Symeon the New Theologian: The Discourses, ed. Richard J. Payne, trans. C. J. de Catanzaro, The Classics of Western Spirituality (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1980), 182.

^[9] Symeon, Symeon the New Theologian: The Discourses, ed. Richard J. Payne, trans. C. J. de Catanzaro, The Classics of Western Spirituality (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1980), 182.

^[10] Symeon, Symeon the New Theologian: The Discourses, ed. Richard J. Payne, trans. C. J. de Catanzaro, The Classics of Western Spirituality (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1980), 183.

^[11] Symeon, Symeon the New Theologian: The Discourses, ed. Richard J. Payne, trans. C. J. de Catanzaro, The Classics of Western Spirituality (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1980), 182.

^[12] https://www.gotquestions.org/how-old-was-David.html

^[13] E.J. Young. The Background Of Psalm 139, Bulletin Of The Evangelical Theological Society 8:3, Summer 1965, p. 101.

^[14] Jung, Carl Gustav . Modern Man in Search of a Soul (p. 111). Christopher Prince. Kindle Edition.

^[15] Clifford Mayes, An Introduction to the Collected Works of C. G. Jung: Psyche as Spirit (Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2016), 54.

^[16] https://www.britannica.com/topic/I-Thou?utm_source=chatgpt.com

^[17] M. Tsevat, “בחן,” ed. G. Johannes Botterweck and Helmer Ringgren, trans. John T. Willis, Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1977), 69.

^[18] M. Tsevat, “בחן,” ed. G. Johannes Botterweck and Helmer Ringgren, trans. John T. Willis, Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1977), 69.

^[19] M. Tsevat, “בחן,” ed. G. Johannes Botterweck and Helmer Ringgren, trans. John T. Willis, Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1977), 69.

^[20] M. Tsevat, “בחן,” ed. G. Johannes Botterweck and Helmer Ringgren, trans. John T. Willis, Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1977), 69.

^[21] Ludwig Koehler et al., The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1994–2000), 1358.

^[22] Derek Kidner, Psalms 73–150: An Introduction and Commentary, vol. 16, Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1975), 504.

^[23] C. L. Meyers, “עָצַב,” ed. G. Johannes Botterweck, Helmer Ringgren, and Heinz-Josef Fabry, trans. David E. Green, Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2001), 278.

^[24] C. L. Meyers, “עָצַב,” ed. G. Johannes Botterweck, Helmer Ringgren, and Heinz-Josef Fabry, trans. David E. Green, Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2001), 278.

^[25] Derek Kidner, Psalms 73–150: An Introduction and Commentary, vol. 16, Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1975), 504.