Knowing is a complex business. It's even more complex between humans because we keep secrets. Thus our knowledge of someone else is dependent upon them. We can only know as much as he/she tells us; we can only go so far.
In a similar way, knowing God is a matter of His grace toward us:
It is a relationship in which the initiative throughout is with God--as it must be, since God is so completely above us and we have so completely forfeited all claim on his favor by our sins.
We do not make friends with God; God makes friends with us, bringing us to know him by making his love known to us. Paul expresses this thought of the priority of grace in our knowledge of God when he writes to the Galatians, "Now that you know God--or rather are known by God" (Gal 4:9). What comes to the surface in this qualifying clause is the apostle's sense that grace came first, and remains fundamental, in his readers' salvation. Their knowing God was the consequence of God's taking knowledge of them. They know him by faith because he first singled them out by grace.
What matters supremely, therefore, is not, in the last analysis, the fact that I know God, but the larger fact which underlies it--the fact that he knows me. I am graven on the palms of his hands. I am never out of his mind. All my knowledge of him depends on his sustained initiative in knowing me. I know him because he first knew me, and continues to know me. Ke knows me as a friend, one who loves me; and there is no moment when his eye is off me, or his attention distracted from me, and no moment, therefore, when his care falters.
This is momentous knowledge. There is unspeakable comfort--the sort of comfort that energizes, be it said, not enervates--in knowing that God is constantly taking knowledge of me in love and watching over me for my good. There is tremendous relief in knowing that his love to me is utterly realistic, based at every point on prior knowledge of the worst about me, so that no discovery now can disillusion him about me, in the way I am so often disillusioned about myself, and quench his determination to bless me.
There is, certainly, great cause for humility in the thought that he sees all the twisted things about me that my fellow humans do not see (and am I glad!), an that he sees more corruption in me than that which I see in myself (which, in all conscience, is enough). There is, however, equally great incentive to worship and love God in the thought that, for some unfathomable reason, he wants me as his friend, and desires to be my friend, and has given his Son to die for me in order to realize this purpose. (Knowing God, J.I. Packer, pp. 40-41, and 41-42, bold emphasis added)
It would seem, then, that to be caught up solely in our activities of knowing God--reading, studying, listening--is to miss the point. He must know me. Only first by Him knowing me can I know Him.
Grace upon grace.
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