He Knew Me: When God's Plan Looks Different Than Mine

He Knew Me

Before I was born. Before I became. Before I ever wondered if I was enough.

I've been thinking about something this week that I can't quite shake.

It's a scripture I've read so many times. One I've probably heard quoted my entire life.

But you know how sometimes you read something familiar, and for whatever reason, it just hits differently?

That happened to me with Jeremiah.

“Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee.” (Jeremiah 1:5)

I kept coming back to those three words.

I knew thee.

Before Jeremiah ever took his first breath, God knew him.

And then I started thinking about what that means for me.

Before I was a mom. Before I got married. Before I built a business. Before I lost people I loved. Before I made mistakes, experienced heartbreak, or found myself in situations I never imagined I'd be in.

He knew me.

And not just the parts of me I like to show the world.

He knew the woman who would sometimes struggle to trust Him.

The one who would pray the same prayer over and over, hoping this time the answer might be different.

The one who would have days when faith came easily and others when it would take every bit of courage just to keep going.

He knew her too.

I don't know why... but that thought has felt especially tender to me lately.

Because I think sometimes we get so caught up in trying to become who God wants us to be that we forget He already knows who we are.

And He loves us right here.

Not just when we finally figure everything out.

Right here.

As I kept studying... I found myself in Abraham 3.

Abraham sees the spirits who lived before this life, and the Lord speaks of those who were noble and great, those He would prepare for His work.

And I started wondering.

What does it really mean to be chosen before we were born?

I have always believed we lived with our Heavenly Father before coming to earth. That part isn't new to me.

But I've been thinking more about what it means that He knew us there.

Did He know the things we'd struggle with here?

Did He know the people we'd love?

The children we'd raise?

The prayers we'd whisper through tears?

Did He know the days we'd feel so certain of His plan and the days we'd wonder what in the world He was doing?

I believe He did.

And I wonder if He saw something in us that we haven't quite learned to see in ourselves yet.

I thought about Alma 13, where we learn about being called and prepared from the foundation of the world.

But something else stood out to me.

Choice.

God's foreknowledge doesn't take away our agency.

We still get to choose.

We get to choose faith.

We get to choose whether we'll turn toward Him.

We get to choose what we do with the circumstances we're given.

And some days...those choices are really hard.

I know that firsthand.

There have been seasons when I've felt like I was doing everything I knew to do. Praying, studying, going to the temple, trying to listen.

And still wondering.

Am I doing this right, Lord?

Am I where You want me to be?

Have I missed something?

Maybe you've asked those questions too.

Especially when your life looks different from the one you thought you'd have.

Here's something else I've been sitting with.

Jeremiah was chosen before he was born.

God knew him. He had a purpose for him. He called him to be a prophet.

And Jeremiah's life was hard.

Really hard.

He experienced rejection, loneliness, sorrow, and assignments that probably made very little sense to him at the time.

In fact, in Jeremiah 16, the Lord instructed him not to marry or have children because of the destruction and suffering that were coming.

I've wrestled with that scripture recently.

Because marriage and family are good things. Righteous things.

And yet, for Jeremiah, God asked something different.

That has made me think about how often I assume that if something is good, God must want it for me, in the way and at the time I want it.

And I don't always understand when that isn't the case.

Sometimes we think that if we're following God, our lives should start looking a certain way.

Our marriages should be easier.

Our children should make the choices we hoped they would.

The financial worries should settle down.

The prayers we've been praying for years should finally have answers.

But that's not always how discipleship works, is it?

Jeremiah reminds me that being chosen doesn't mean being spared.

And being loved by God doesn't mean we won't experience things that break our hearts.

It means we don't have to experience them alone.

When Jeremiah told the Lord he didn't know how to speak, that he was only a child, God's response was so beautiful.

“Be not afraid of their faces: for I am with thee to deliver thee.” (Jeremiah 1:8)

I am with thee.

Not, "Jeremiah, this is going to be easy."

Not, "Everyone will understand you."

Not even, "Everything will work out the way you hope."

Just...

I am with thee.

And I think sometimes that's the answer God is giving me too.

Even when I'm asking for a very different one.

I wonder how many of us are walking around quietly worried that we've somehow missed the life God intended for us.

Maybe your marriage hasn't turned out the way you imagined.

Maybe your children have chosen a different path.

Maybe you're starting over at an age when you thought you'd have everything figured out.

Maybe you're carrying grief that has changed you so much you hardly recognize yourself.

Or maybe you're just tired.

Tired of waiting.

Tired of wondering.

Tired of trying to make the right decision when you can't see what comes next.

I've been there.

And I think that's why this idea of being known before we were born has been so meaningful to me.

Because what if we haven't missed it?

What if God is still working with us, right in the middle of the life we're living?

I don't believe every difficult thing happens because God planned it that way.

We live in a world where people have agency. Where hard things happen. Where sometimes life is just painful.

But I do believe He can take what happens here and use it to teach us, refine us, and bring us closer to Him.

Even the parts we'd never choose.

And maybe especially the parts where we learn we can't do it without Him.

In Doctrine and Covenants 138, Joseph F. Smith saw in vision that noble and great spirits had been prepared before their mortal lives for the work God had for them.

I've thought about that a lot.

I wonder what my Heavenly Father saw in me before I came here.

Not in a grand or important sort of way.

Just as His daughter.

Did He know how much I would love being a mother?

Did He know how deeply I would grieve the people I would lose?

Did He know I would someday find myself sitting in the temple, asking questions I never thought I'd have to ask?

Did He know how many times I'd need to learn the same lesson about surrendering my will to His?

I have to smile a little at that last one.

Because apparently, I'm a slow learner when it comes to surrender.

But I keep trying.

And I think He knows that too.

Here's what I'm beginning to understand.

God's knowledge of me didn't begin when I started making good choices.

His love didn't begin when I made my first covenant.

And His willingness to work with me doesn't disappear when I get something wrong.

He knew me before all of that.

And through Jesus Christ, He has provided a way for me to keep learning, repenting, changing, and becoming.

That's the part I don't want to miss.

Being known by God isn't just a beautiful thought about where we came from.

It's a source of hope for who we're still becoming.

I think about how much of my life I've spent trying to be better.

A better mother. A better wife. A better business owner. A better disciple of Jesus Christ.

And there's nothing wrong with wanting to grow.

But sometimes I wonder if I've spent so much energy looking at the woman I'm not yet that I've forgotten to recognize the woman God is already helping me become.

The one who keeps showing up.

Who still opens her scriptures.

Who still goes to the temple with questions.

Who still prays, even when the answers seem quiet.

Who is learning, little by little, that faith doesn't always mean knowing how the story ends.

Sometimes it simply means trusting the One who does.

And I think that's where I've landed this week.

I don't know everything God has prepared for me.

I don't know what the next chapter will look like.

There are still things I'm praying about. Things I'm hoping for. Things I'm trying to understand.

But maybe I don't have to know all of that today.

Maybe today I just need to remember that I am known.

That long before I ever worried about whether I was enough, I was a daughter of Heavenly Parents.

That my Savior knew I would need His grace, His mercy, and His redeeming power.

And that I haven't somehow slipped outside of God's awareness because my life looks a little different than I expected.

He knew Jeremiah.

He knew Abraham.

And He knew me.

He still does.

And friend, He knew you too.

Before the heartbreak.

Before the hard decisions.

Before the mistakes you wish you could undo.

Before you became a mother, a wife, a widow, a grandmother, or whatever roles you hold today.

He knew you.

And perhaps the most beautiful thing about that is that you don't have to spend the rest of your life trying to earn a place in His heart.

You already have one.

You just get to keep choosing what you'll do with the life He's given you.

One day, one prayer, one faithful step at a time.

And when you forget who you are, because I think we all do sometimes...you can turn back to the One who has never forgotten.

Because before you ever knew who you would become...

He knew you.

And He still does.

I've been asking myself a question this week, and maybe it's one you need too.

If I really believed that God knew me before I was born, and that He still knows me right now, what would I stop worrying about?

Would I give myself a little more grace?

Would I trust Him a little more with the people I love?

Would I stop wondering if I've somehow missed His plan?

I don't know.

But I think remembering who we belonged to before this life might help us find a little more courage for the life we're living now.

And perhaps that's enough for today.

Known. Loved. Still becoming.