“The Struggle to be Known” – A 10-chapter devotional series for creatives and those who want to be more creative.
Psalm 139:7-10
7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
When I think of someone being surrounded, what comes to mind are those “film noir” gangster movies with actors like Humphrey Bogart and Edward G. Robinson. I can hear their voices as they bark, “Stick up your hands! We’ve got you surrounded!”
While that’s not exactly what the writer of this psalm is talking about, these verses do remind us that God surrounds us. He is inherently present in the fabric of space and time. What a majestic thought! His presence is woven into every moment, every place. That presence invites us to walk with Him, to align with his will, and in doing so, we inch closer to His heart.
As we begin to see things from His perspective, we can catch a glipse of His understanding, and other times we will learn to trust the One who knows all things. When we become more integrated with His presence, His inherent knowledge becomes ours. He guides us and protects us — from ourselves, from our impulses, and from things we cannot yet see. And when we fall, He is ready to lift us and set us back on our feet.
There is no path we can chart — physical or spiritual — where He has not already gone before.
The Creative Brain at Rest: Researchers have discovered that some of our most creative thinking happens when the brain shifts into what’s called the default mode network — the state we enter during gentle movement, daydreaming, or moments when we simply feel safe and unhurried. When the mind is not forced to focus, it begins to wander, connect memories, link emotions, and form new ideas. Neuroscientists call this divergent thinking, but creatives know it as the spark — the idea that rises when we finally stop gripping so tightly. In other words, creativity often awakens when we feel held, not trapped … when we trust that we’re safe. It’s in those quiet, unguarded spaces — much like a child on a tire swing — where our minds loosen just enough for God to whisper something new.
One of my favorite childhood pastimes was swinging on a tire swing that hung behind the small wooden frame house where we lived. The swing dangled from a high branch in a very tall tree at the bottom of a deep gully leading to Bayou Bartholomew. This wasn’t just a swing — it was a gateway to adventure. We’d climb high on one side of the ravine, hold tight to the rope, jump and soar across the open space, then arc back up to the other side, our childhood laughter echoing through the trees.
One afternoon, when no one else was around, I had what I thought was a stroke of genius. I decided to turn my ordinary tire swing into a paratrooper’s harness — inspired, no doubt, by my G.I. Joe’s harness. I untied the tire, fashioned ropes around my upper thighs, and attached them to the swing’s main line. With everything triple-knotted, I climbed to my launching pad, took a deep breath, and jumped.
The rush was thrilling as I swung through space — until the swing gradually slowed, and I was left hanging at the bottom of the ravine, unable to touch the ground. The extra knots had shortened the rope, leaving me dangling above the ground, unable to free myself.
After twenty minutes of struggling, I tried to pull myself up the rope, hoping to slip the loops off my feet. It worked to some extent — as I climbed upward, I managed to shake one leg free, but not the other.
Soon, after having tired from my struggle, I found myself hanging upside down, trapped by one ankle tangled in the rope. I was gasping for air, fighting a panic attack, as blood rushed to my head.
No one could hear my desperate calls; the gully was too deep, the house too far. I was utterly alone — or so I thought.
Suddenly, in my upside-down world, I realized my fingertips could now reach the ground. Inch by inch, I began to claw the red clay ground, using roots and saplings to get the swing moving again. As I begain to swing, I managed to reach the sloping bank, found better handholds, and climbed high enough to loosen the tension on the rope and free my foot. I collapsed on the incline, breathless, my shirt drenched with sweat.
“Nobody’s gonna believe this,” I whispered to myself.
When I finally looked up, I saw him — my dad — standing at the top edge of the gully. Arms crossed, feet planted, head shaking slightly. He had been there the whole time — watching, waiting, fully aware every moment I thought I was alone.
Funny, but he never mentioned it. I never asked. But the image of this incident has lived in my mind for a lifetime.
In some ways, that’s how I think of God’s presence now — quiet, constant, attentive. He doesn’t always step in immediately, yet His eyes never leave us. He lets us wrestle, discover, and learn – but the moment we call, He is already moving toward us.
His love holds the rope.
His mercy stands on the hill.
And His hand, unseen but sure, is always ready to free us.
PROBING DEEPER Has there been a time when you felt trapped in a situation — a moment when it seemed there was no escape? Did you sense His presence during that time? Spending time in prayer and meditating on scripture helps cultivate a deeper connection with the Holy Spirit. As this connection grows, His presence becomes clearer not only in our moments of need but each day we live. Following His lead can bring you to a more peaceful and fulfilled life. Will you commit to spending more time each day seeking a deeper, stronger connection with His presence?
TODAY’S PRAYER Creator God, thank you for your steady, never-ending presence. Help us recognize your hand in all of Creation and let us rest in the knowledge that your love surrounds us.
The Struggle to Be Known 