Through the changing scenes of life - a Pentecost reflection on Psalm 139

Originally written by Derek Gallagher, member of the Lay Community of St Benedict, for the Community’s annual Covenant Service -  a Methodist tradition of recommitment adopted within the LCSB’s ecumenical life - this reflection on Psalm 139 and the changing scenes of life was later revisited by Lucy Jardine, Head of Communications for the LCSB, through the lens of Pentecost. Reflecting on the uncertainty and transformation experienced by the disciples after Jesus’ Ascension, this collaborative piece brings together Derek’s original sermon and Lucy’s Pentecost reflection on change, trust and the enduring presence of God. 

Change is a strange and powerful word. As we grow older, we soon realise that change is inevitable. It can make us feel either threatened or comforted. Things can get worse through change or, indeed, better through change.

I can still remember vividly the first big change as a child in my own life. It was leaving the comfort of Listen with Mother on the BBC Home Service and going to school. That was just the start of a life of massive change. My first major change was joining the Police at the age of nineteen. Another significant change came much later after forty-two years of service. I never really liked using the word “retirement”. I regarded it as a “change of direction” — swapping one lot of things for another lot of stuff. But change it was, and at any one time it was both frightening and exciting.

Looking back now, I can see that one of the ways I survived that particular change was through the revival of my church life in 2010, when I began training as a Local Preacher. Whether I recognised it fully at the time or not, I now see God’s hand, as usual, on my shoulder through it all. Alongside that came other things too, like the new supportive friendships within the Lay Community of St Benedict, with its great inbuilt ecumenical element.

Looking at the changes in our own lives, we know that some can be joyful: getting engaged or married, having kids, discovering a new calling or vocation. But other changes can prove painful and practically unbearable. It is precisely at times like these that we need to take up our Bibles and turn, in particular ,to Psalm 139 for reassurance. Instead of trying to sort everything out ourselves, we are called to “take it to the Lord in prayer,” because that is exactly what Psalm 139 is — a beautiful poetic prayer. It speaks of God’s wonderful care for us as individuals and reminds us that each one of us is precious to him. Even when we forget God, he does not forget us, especially in the life changes we experience.

To me, Psalm 139 is like a warm blanket that God wraps around us as reassurance of his love and care. This is why over the years I have formed the habit whenever I am in a church or indeed, an hotel room, of turning over the pages of any bible I find to the lovely Psalm 139 and leaving it like that (in situ) in the hope that someone might read it and be moved by its wisdom and reassurance. The Psalm emphasises four things for us to remember: God knows us, God stays close to us, God made us, and God tests us. Those truths become especially powerful when we reflect on Pentecost.

Pentecost was itself a moment of massive change for the disciples. They had walked with Jesus and relied upon his physical presence. Then suddenly everything changed. The disciples found themselves uncertain and perhaps fearful about what lay ahead. We often hear Pentecost described in triumphant terms, the rushing wind, tongues of fire and the birth of the Church, and rightly so. But before the bold preaching and confidence came uncertainty. Before courage came confusion. The disciples knew that life could not return to the way it had been before. Yet they did not fully understand what God was doing next.

And that is where Psalm 139 speaks so beautifully into the Pentecost story.

“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?” the psalmist asks.

The answer, of course, is nowhere. Although Jesus was no longer physically with the disciples, God had not abandoned them. Through the coming of the Holy Spirit, God was not simply walking beside them, but dwelling within them. Pentecost reminds us that God remains with us through every change.

One of the most wonderful verses in Psalm 139 says:

“Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”

These words remind me that our lives, changes and all, are planned out by him. Sometimes we only recognise this in hindsight. I remember one night standing outside Hartlip Church in pouring rain, sensing strongly that God was urging me to go back inside and listen. Eventually I did return, kneeling alone in the darkness of the chapel, and it was there that I sensed the call to preach. Moments like that can become turning points in our lives. Of course, not all change feels welcome or understandable. Pentecost does not remove sorrow, uncertainty or change from human life. But it does remind us that the Spirit of God continues to move through all of it. The frightened disciples who hid behind locked doors were transformed by the Spirit into courageous witnesses. Not because they suddenly became extraordinary people, but because God was with them.

The bible constantly reminds us that we are known and chosen by God. Isaiah tells us, “I have called you by name, you are mine.” In John’s Gospel, Jesus says, “You did not choose me. I chose you”. It astounds me that God watches over us from conception to death and all the changes and challenges in between.

Like the disciples, we do not always know what lies ahead. One thing does not change though: God’s love for us. No matter who we are, where we have come from, how old we are or what changes we have endured, God remains alongside us. He will be there.

God does not change, but he does move, and we are called to trust him and move with him. But fear not — it is well. He knows your name, and through all the changing scenes of life, in trouble and in joy, he will be there.