I Choose Today to Know It Very Well

Have you ever read a verse so many times that you stopped really hearing it?

A verse you can quote.

A verse you believe for other people.

A verse you have highlighted, underlined, and maybe even memorized.

But if you’re honest, your soul hasn’t fully embraced it for you.

That’s where I found myself recently with Psalm 139.

Over the last several weeks, these verses have appeared everywhere, in conversations, meetings, quiet times, and unexpected moments throughout my day.

I’ve learned something over the years: when a passage of Scripture keeps showing up, it’s usually the Holy Spirit inviting me to pay attention. To slow down. To sit with it. To let it move from my head to my heart.

Psalm 139:13–14 says:

“For You formed my innermost parts; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I will give thanks and praise to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, and my soul knows it very well.”

Another translation puts it this way:

“Thank You for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.”

The phrase that has captured my attention is the last one:

“My soul knows it very well.”

And it led me to a question.

How well does my soul actually know that?

Not my mind.

Not my theology.

Not my ability to quote the verse.

My soul.

Does my soul truly know that God’s work in creating me is marvelous?

Does it rest in the reality that I was intentionally formed by a loving Creator?

Or do I simply agree with the statement without living as though it is true?

If I’m honest, I think many of us know this passage intellectually, but our souls haven’t fully settled into it.

We know God created people.

But sometimes we struggle to believe He intentionally created us.

A few weeks ago, I found myself thinking about the imagery David uses when he says God “knit me together” in my mother’s womb.

Have you ever watched someone knit?

Maybe it was a grandmother, a friend, a parent, or in my case, my father-in-law.

Knitting is incredibly intentional.

Every stitch matters.

Before the first stitch is made, there is already a pattern. Measurements have been calculated. Materials have been selected. The creator knows exactly what they are making.

The yarn isn’t chosen randomly. Different materials serve different purposes. The creator selects what is needed for the finished product.

Then, stitch by stitch, row by row, the piece begins to take shape.

It requires patience.

Focus.

Presence.

And when the knitting is complete, there is often one final step called blocking. The finished piece may initially appear small, wrinkled, or unfinished. So it is soaked, stretched, and carefully shaped until its true design is revealed.

As I reflected on that process, I couldn’t help but think about what David is communicating in Psalm 139.

God did not create us randomly.

He did not assemble us by accident.

He did not look at us and think, “Good enough.”

Before you ever took your first breath, He already knew the pattern.

Psalm 139 goes on to tell us that all our days were written before one of them came to be.

Your personality.

Your gifts.

Your strengths.

Your story.

Your voice.

Your passions.

Even the generation in which you were born.

None of it is random.

You are intentional design.

The Hebrew imagery behind “knit me together” speaks of weaving together carefully and skillfully. Unlike the sweeping commands spoken over much of creation, Scripture uses deeply personal language when describing humanity.

God formed.

God breathed.

God knit.

God crafted.

He was intimately involved.

One thought in particular has stayed with me:

He never took His eyes off you.

You had His undivided attention.

The Creator of the universe was not distracted when He formed you.

He was not rushed.

He was not careless.

He was intentional.

David then says we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.”

The word “fearfully” carries the idea of being set apart, distinguished, and marked with significance.

In other words, there is intentional value attached to your existence.

But here’s where this becomes deeply practical.

Many of us know Psalm 139.

We can quote it.

Teach it.

Post it on social media.

But our souls don’t fully know it.

Because if our souls truly knew it, we wouldn’t spend so much time comparing ourselves to others.

We wouldn’t constantly strive to become someone else.

We wouldn’t apologize for the way God designed us.

We wouldn’t spend so much energy trying to fit into a pattern that was never ours to begin with.

It reminds me of a picture that came to mind recently.

Imagine someone gives you a rare hand-crafted cashmere sweater made by one of the world’s most skilled artisans.

It was designed specifically for you.

Custom fit.

Beautifully made.

Incredibly valuable.

But because you didn’t understand its worth, you used it as a washcloth.

You scrubbed countertops with it.

Tossed it carelessly into the washer and dryer.

Stored it away with old rags.

Your misuse wouldn’t remove its value.

The craftsmanship would still be there.

The beauty would still be there.

The problem wouldn’t be the worth of the creation.

The problem would be that you didn’t know it very well.

I wonder how often we do the same thing with ourselves.

Not because we’re prideful.

Not because we’re selfish.

But because somewhere along the way, we stopped seeing ourselves through the eyes of our Creator.

We all know Psalm 139.

But our souls often don’t know it very well.

Our minds say:

“God made people.”

But our souls need to know:

“The King of the universe intentionally formed me, and He doesn’t make mistakes.”

When we anchor ourselves to that truth, something begins to change.

We stop striving to fit someone else’s mold.

We stop measuring our value against someone else’s calling.

We stop looking for validation from a world that didn’t create us.

Instead, we begin to carry the quiet confidence of someone who knows they are deeply loved, intentionally designed, and created with purpose.

The world doesn’t get to determine your worth.

Your Creator already established it.

He sat over your unformed frame in the hidden place and knit you together with precision, care, and love.

Friend, maybe that’s what God has been reminding me of lately.

As I prepare for a season of sabbatical, slowing down, and reconnecting with Him, I believe He’s gently reminding me that my value was never rooted in what I produce.

It was rooted in being His.

Maybe that’s what He wants for you too.

Not just to read Psalm 139.

Not just to quote it.

But to finally let your soul know it very well.

Today’s Step

Spend five quiet minutes with the Lord today and slowly read Psalm 139:13–16.

As you read, replace the general language with your own name.

Then ask Him:

“Lord, where have I forgotten my value or questioned Your design?”

Write down anything He brings to mind and thank Him for the intentional care He took in creating you.

Because you are not an accident.

You are His workmanship.

And His workmanship is marvelous.