"I come to the end -- I am still with you" Psalm 139:1-18

Late last night, long time member, Betty Jane Robertson, died at St. Barnabas Nursing Home in Gibsonia.  As you may know, B.J. fell in her home a few months ago and has been struggling in her recovery.

Arrangements are not yet made, but will include a memorial service at Emsworth U.P. Church.   Please keep B.J.'s family in your prayers.

Yesterday, Tom Smart and I visited with B.J. and shared the Lord's Supper with her.  Before we prayed together, I read Psalm 23, not imagining it would be our last visit together.

But this morning I am reading Psalm 139, remembering B.J.'s goodness, generosity and faithfulness.  We have all been blessed by knowing this fearfully and wonderfully made child of God, and she will be well-remembered by this congregation and community for years to come.

With love,
Pastor Susan

Psalm 139: 1-18

To the leader. Of David. A Psalm.
O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
   you discern my thoughts from far away.
You search out my path and my lying down,
   and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
   O Lord, you know it completely.
You hem me in, behind and before,
   and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
   it is so high that I cannot attain it. 

Where can I go from your spirit?
   Or where can I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
   if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
If I take the wings of the morning
   and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
   and your right hand shall hold me fast.
If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me,
   and the light around me become night’,
even the darkness is not dark to you;
   the night is as bright as the day,
   for darkness is as light to you. 

For it was you who formed my inward parts;
   you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
   Wonderful are your works;
that I know very well.
   My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
   intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.
In your book were written
   all the days that were formed for me,
   when none of them as yet existed.
How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God!
   How vast is the sum of them!
I try to count them—they are more than the sand;
   I come to the end—I am still with you.