The Invisible Saints

Psalm 119.79: "Let those who fear you turn to me,  that they may know your testimonies."

I've been reading Psalm 119 slowly over the last several days, taking it one stanza at a time, savoring it. It's one of my favorite psalms, and generally one of the most neglected—its length intimidates. Psalm 119 is a love song to the law of God: an odd thing, when you think about it. Who loves law? David does, apparently, and he invites us to love it, too: the law of God is only a drag because we don't understand it.

Anyway, I came to verse 79 this morning: "Let those who fear you turn to me, that they may know your testimonies."  


Odd: "Let those who fear you turn to ME." In a psalm so adamantly centered on God, this strikes the ear as off-kilter.

Why did David say it like this? Let me continue his prayer and apply it to myself.

"Let those who fear You turn to me, that they may know Your testimonies. That is, let me be so holy that other people are made holy through knowing me. Let me be so irreproachable that when people see me, they don't see me, they see you. "

David describes a kind of holy invisibility—a person so radiantly holy he actually fades and is replaced by Another. When you look at him, you don't see him; you see God, and desire Him. As John the Baptist said, "He must increase, but I must decrease."

God calls us to be invisible saints—people so marked by holiness that we (if you'll excuse the expression) disappear. The individualist in us all bucks against this idea, but I wonder if we would still protest if we understood what it means to glorify God. If I understood that my self-sacrificial, self-effacing glorifying of God would also give me the most happiness, I wouldn't complain about this calling, I'd thank Him for it.