Psalm 19 - The God Who Shows Himself
Introduction
I don’t know if you’ve been following the news, but you’ve no doubt heard about the solar eclipse that took place this Wednesday; perhaps you were even able to witness the spectacle. It is a celestial phenomenon that occurs when the moon passes in front of the sun. And if you missed the spectacle, unfortunately you’ll have to wait until 3 September 2081 to see the next one in France.
It’s the sort of event that fascinates people. You only have to look at social media to realise the excitement surrounding this phenomenon.
And it’s hardly surprising; the sky has always fascinated humankind. We observe it, we study it, and sometimes we even look to it for answers about our own existence. And for many, this contemplation gives rise to an even more fundamental question: where does it all come from? ‘The universe baffles me, and I cannot conceive that this clock exists without a clockmaker,’ said Voltaire, the famous Enlightenment philosopher.
Why does the universe give rise to such thoughts? Why, when we look up at the sky, does the question of a creator arise so naturally? Does the universe have a message for us?
Fortunately, we didn’t have to wait for Voltaire to find answers to these questions. Over 3,000 years ago, David, the king of Israel, marvelled at the beauty of the heavens, and from this contemplation he composed Psalm 19.
For David, creation is not silent. When we look up at the sky, we do not merely see stars, planets or extraordinary phenomena such as an eclipse; rather, we behold a work that bears the mark of its Creator and proclaims his glory.
But Psalm 19 goes much further. God reveals himself not only through his creation, but also through his word.
And faced with this revelation, David does not simply remain a spectator: something happens within him. God’s revelation ultimately leads him to look into his own heart and respond to God.
It is this journey that I invite you to follow with me in this psalm.
Its general theme can be summarised as follows: God reveals himself through his creation and through his word to lead us to a life of worship.
The psalm divides quite naturally into three parts:
Lift up your eyes: God reveals himself (1–7)
Open your ears: God speaks (8–11)
Come to him: God saves (12–15)
Look up: God reveals Himself
Let us read again from verse 2: ‘The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament reveals the work of His hands. One day tells it to another day, and one night makes it known to another night.’ As he looks up at the starry sky, David recognises God’s glory and work. The Bible speaks very often of God’s glory, but what exactly does that mean? And above all, what does it have to do with the heavens? David affirms that: ‘The heavens declare the glory of God.’ In other words, the heavens tell us not only what God does, but also what God is. God’s glory is the visible manifestation of his person and character. David does not see God directly, but as he contemplates his work, he discerns traces of his power, wisdom and beauty.
Well, I don’t know about you, but personally, as a true Parisian, I very rarely visit the capital’s museums; however, a few years ago, I visited the Louvre and was captivated by the beauty of the paintings. The first thought that sprang to mind was, ‘Wow! What talented painters! What masterful work!’ As I gazed at these works, I wasn’t just thinking about the paintings themselves; their beauty naturally led me to think of those who had painted them. That’s rather what happens here with David. Standing before this immense, heavenly painting, he exclaims, as it were: ‘What a glorious Creator!’ The work speaks to us of the artist. Creation speaks to us of God.
But in practical terms, what does creation teach us about the glory of God? There is much that could be said, but I would like to draw our attention to three aspects:
Firstly, creation reveals God’s power to us: think of the billions of stars, the billions of galaxies that God has created; think of the power that God displayed in creating everything simply by his word. It is quite simply mind-boggling.
Secondly, creation reveals to us God’s wisdom and order: verse 3 reminds us that God created day and night; this is what we read in the account of creation in Genesis chapter 1, verse 5, where it is written, ‘God called the light “day” and the darkness “night”’. You might ask, ‘What does this have to do with wisdom and order?’ The connection is this: in the beginning, the world was nothing but chaos, but God brought order by separating the light from the darkness. In fact, if we think about it carefully, creation essentially consists of bringing order where chaos reigned. God expresses his wisdom by bringing order to creation. We won’t do this now, but do take the time to reread Genesis chapter 1 and note all the times when God creates order by separating the elements of creation and putting them in their proper places. Creation reflects God’s wisdom and order.
And thirdly, creation reveals God’s beauty to us. We sometimes find it hard to believe that beauty is something objective; we say to ourselves, ‘Well, beauty is in the eye of the beholder!’ Yet Psalm 19 invites us to see things differently. David does not say, ‘Personally, I find the sky magnificent.’ Instead, he asserts that the heavens objectively proclaim God’s glory. And this idea is already present in the very account of creation. On several occasions, it is written: ‘God saw that it was good.’ Creation is not beautiful because people have declared it to be so; it is beautiful because God, who is perfectly good, willed it and declared it to be good. I know this is not a very popular idea today, but beauty is not merely a matter of taste. It has its origin in God himself. And as we contemplate the beauty of creation, we glimpse a reflection of the beauty and goodness of its Creator.
We can see, then, that God’s glory is revealed through creation. But we may each ask ourselves: am I meant to receive this revelation? To whom is it addressed? Do we need special glasses to see God through creation? So let us continue with me to verses 4 and 5; let us read:
‘It is not a language, nor are they words; their sound is not heard. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, and their words to the ends of the world, where he has set up a tent for the sun.’
God reveals himself through creation, and this revelation is universal. It is addressed to all people, in a clear and comprehensible way. Every human being can discover who God is by observing creation. This is what the Apostle Paul states in the Epistle to the Romans: ‘God’s invisible attributes, namely his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world; they are understood from what he has made.’ One does not need to speak a particular language, or belong to a particular people, or even be in a particular place to know that God exists and that He is glorious. Look again at verses 4 and 5: ‘one language’, ‘the whole earth’ – does that remind you of anything? Remember the Tower of Babel. People wanted to speak a single language and remain gathered in one place to make a name for themselves. Psalm 19 offers a striking contrast to the misplaced ambition of the people at Babel. God does not need any human language to make a name for Himself. He does not need a specific place where people would come to meet him. His creation speaks all languages, because it speaks none. Its testimony reaches the whole earth, to the ends of the world. Wherever we live, whatever language we speak, creation proclaims to each and every one of us the glory of its Creator.
This is particularly well illustrated by the image of the sun that David uses. Let us read verses 6 and 7 together: ‘And the sun, like a bridegroom coming forth from his chamber, runs its course with the joy of a hero; it rises at one end of the heavens and ends its course at the other end: nothing escapes its heat. ’ Just as no one can escape the light and heat of the sun, no one can escape the testimony of creation: revelation extends to all people.
But perhaps this image of the sun makes you feel a little uncomfortable; one might get the impression that David is speaking of the sun as if it were some sort of deity. And this is no trivial matter; there are a great many pagan peoples who have fallen into idolatry by worshipping the sun as if it were God. But David takes the opposite view to this idea; he clearly affirms that God is the Creator and the sun is merely a creature. In verse 5 he says: ‘God has set a tent for the sun.’ God did not literally create a tent for the sun, as if the sun were to go in to sleep at night. But this image simply reminds us that the sun is in the place God has assigned to it, faithfully carrying out the mission entrusted to it by its Creator. This is what we read in Genesis: ‘God made the sun to rule over the day’. The sun is, in a sense, a testimony to God’s glory and to his desire to make himself known throughout the earth.
So far, we have seen that creation reveals who God is. But what difference does that make to us today? How can we live in the light of this revelation? Three practical applications for us this afternoon:
Firstly, we are called to look at creation through the eyes of faith. When we contemplate a sunset, a starry sky or the power of the sea, let us not stop at the spectacle itself. Let creation lead us to its Creator; nature exists to show us that God is glorious, all-powerful and infinitely good. And if you do not believe there could be a Creator, do as Voltaire did: doubt, question, ask yourself: is this universe really here by chance? Or is there an all-powerful Creator who wants to make himself known to me through his creation?
Secondly, we are called to worship God alone, not creation. The sun is not God, nature is not God, and the stars do not govern our destiny. Giving creation the place that belongs to the Creator has a name in the Bible: it is called idolatry. It is easy to look down on the pagans of antiquity and say to ourselves: ‘How could they have worshipped the sun or the stars? They must have been truly stupid!’ Yet idolatry is much closer to us than we realise. When we consult our horoscope, when we believe that the stars influence our mood for the day, or when we speak of ‘Mother Nature’ as if creation possessed a will of its own. Psalm 19 reminds us that creation does not exist to draw our worship to itself. Rather, it is like a signpost: it points to its Creator. Let us admire creation, yes, but let us worship only the One who made it.
And thirdly, let us not be content with creation alone. Yes, the universe is a vast open book that reveals to us who God is. But it does not tell us everything we need to know. Some people think they can be close to God simply by admiring creation and living in harmony with it, and whilst that is a good thing, it is not enough to live in communion with God. Creation does not tell us that we are sinners; it does not explain why we need a Saviour. We need a revelation that goes further. That is why David will now lead us to an even more precious revelation: that of the Word of God – this is the second point.
Listen carefully: God is speaking
Imagine an architect building a magnificent house for you. Every detail has been carefully thought out: the proportions are harmonious, the materials are of high quality, and the light illuminates every room perfectly. By visiting this house, you could learn a great deal about its architect. You would realise that he is skilled, creative and highly knowledgeable. But imagine that, once the house is finished, the architect disappears without ever speaking to you. Despite everything you know about him, there would still be many unanswered questions. What is his name? Why did he build this house? How does he view you? Does he love you? What is he asking of you? To find answers to these questions, it would no longer be enough simply to look at the house; the architect himself would have to decide to speak.
This is precisely what God does. He reveals himself through his Word. And it is this revelation that David celebrates in the second part of the Psalm.
So let us read from verse 8: ‘The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul; the testimony of the Lord is true, making the simple wise. The precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart; the commandments of the Lord are pure, enlightening the eyes. The fear of the Lord is pure; it endures for ever; the Lord’s judgements are true; they are all just. They are more precious than gold, than much fine gold; they are sweeter than honey, even honey that drips from the comb.’
Even before we fully grasp what David is saying here, there is one word that should leap out at us—I don’t know if you’ve noticed it—it is repeated six times: the Lord, the Lord. We might ask ourselves: why does David switch from ‘God’ to ‘the Lord’? Why this shift between the two parts of the psalm?
This is no mere coincidence. In the first part, David speaks of ‘God’ as he contemplates his power manifested in creation. But from verse 8 onwards, he consistently uses his personal name: ‘the Lord’, Yahweh in Hebrew.
When you meet someone for the first time, you don’t say, ‘Hello, I’m a student’ or ‘Hello, I live in such-and-such a place’; no, you start by saying your name. It is the name that enables us to enter into a personal relationship. That is exactly what is happening here: the name ‘the Lord’ reminds us that the God of whom David speaks is not only the Creator whom we can observe through his works, but also the God who has made himself known personally to his people.
And this name has not been chosen at random. Throughout the Bible, it is the name most closely associated with the covenant that God establishes with his people. The most striking example is found in Exodus chapter 3, when God reveals himself to Moses at the burning bush. Remember: Moses asks God what his name is, and God replies, ‘I am who I am’. Then, a few verses later, he says, ‘This is my name for ever, and this is the name by which I am to be remembered from generation to generation.’
We can sometimes take God’s name lightly; I am not referring specifically to swearing or the disrespectful use of his name, but rather to the way in which we read God’s Word. Certain words can become so familiar that we end up forgetting their power. We read ‘God does this’ and ‘The Lord says that’ in an almost detached manner. But David reminds us that God is not an impersonal force nor a distant Creator; rather, he is the God who reveals his name, the God of the covenant who calls his people to know him and to establish a personal relationship with him. When we read his Word, we are not simply accumulating knowledge about him, but we are listening to the God who has chosen to speak to us and to make himself known.
That is the whole difference between knowing facts about someone and truly knowing that person by listening to what they have to say to us.
And this is what happens in verses 8 to 11. David does not merely know God because he is familiar with His work; rather, he knows Him personally because God has spoken.
In the first part of the psalm, God reveals Himself through what He does, and we are invited to look.
But in this second part, something changes: we are no longer merely invited to look at what God does; we are invited to listen to what God says. Having appealed to our eyes, David now appeals to our ears.
And indeed, the tone of the psalm changes completely: we move away from the contemplative song of the opening verses into a text of wisdom. It almost feels as though we are reading a passage from Proverbs.
But what, then, does David tell us about the word of God?
David uses six different expressions to speak of the Word of God: the law, the testimony, the decrees, the commandments, the fear of the Lord and the judgements. All these expressions refer in one way or another to the revelation that God gives of himself and his will, but each one highlights a particular aspect of that revelation.
And in each phrase, there is a recurring pattern: it is as though David were highlighting, each time, a moral quality and an effect that the word has on those who receive it.
Look at the first phrase: ‘The law of the Lord is perfect; it revives the soul’:
Here David is speaking of the law, the instructions and teachings that God gives to guide his people.
What is the moral quality that characterises this law? David asserts that the law is perfect. The Hebrew word translated as ‘perfect’ (tamim) literally means complete, flawless, and upright. The Law of the Lord lacks nothing; it contains no errors or inconsistencies because it reflects God’s moral purity.
And the second question: what effect does this Law have on those who obey it? David tells us that it ‘gives comfort’. Other translations say that it ‘restores the soul’. It is the idea of something that brings back, that restores, that breathes new life into. The Word of God does not merely convey information about God to us; it also has an effect on those who listen to it. It restores what is broken, it brings back those who have gone astray, and it restores strength to those who are downcast.
Now, we could spend a great deal of time reflecting in detail on the other five expressions, but I don’t think that is David’s intention. Let us remember that we are dealing with a psalm, that is to say, a poetic text. The power of this text lies not only in the expressions taken individually, but in the cumulative effect of all these expressions. David deliberately repeats the same structure several times to show us that God’s word is perfect in every respect.
And this perfection is manifested in two ways:
Firstly, by what it is: the word perfectly reveals to us who God is and what His will is. It reflects the character of the One who speaks: it is perfect, true, upright, pure and just.
Secondly, through what it produces: it works deeply within the heart. It is one of the means God uses to shape our hearts according to his will.
It can be easy to view the Word of God as a collection of instructions, a list of things to know and do in order to be on good terms with God. But that is not at all what David is saying.
David is not describing a dead word, but speaking to us of a living, active word.
Look at the verbs he uses: it restores, it makes wise, it brings joy, it enlightens. God’s Word does not merely point the way from a distance, telling us, ‘This is what you ought to do.’
The Word of God does not merely tell us that we must be wise: it makes the inexperienced wise. It does not merely tell us to rejoice: it gladdens the heart. It does not merely tell us where the light is: it enlightens our eyes. It does not call us to a morbid fear of God, but leads us to a reverent fear characterised by willing obedience to his commandments.
That is why the Word of God is so precious. That is why David can say in verse 11 that the Word of God is more precious than gold, sweeter than honey. Can we say the same?
As king, David was immensely wealthy; when he speaks of riches, he knows what he is talking about; when he says that the Word is more precious than gold, he does not say it lightly! For him, all his riches were nothing compared to the Word, which was able to reveal the almighty God to him and transform his own heart.
But David does not merely see the Word as something useful; he also sees it as something desirable—even more desirable than honey. He does not merely acknowledge the usefulness of God’s Word; he loves it with all his heart and allows himself to be enlightened by it, as he says in verse 12.
What difference does this make to us today? How should we live, knowing that God’s Word perfectly reveals who God is and is capable of transforming our hearts? Two practical applications for us this afternoon:
Firstly, we have seen that the Word of God is entirely sufficient to reveal His character and His will to us. That is why we are called to make the Word of God our supreme moral authority. This does not mean that we should not respect other forms of authority; the Bible is clear on this point: we are all called to submit to human authorities – the Highway Code, the Civil Code, and the laws of our country. But our moral benchmark should be the Word of God; no other authority should take the place of the Bible in defining our conduct.
And this is particularly important in our time, when moral values are changing very rapidly; what was considered wrong yesterday may be considered right today, and vice versa. Worse still, we may be tempted to define our own morality based on how we feel at any given moment.
But if God’s Word is perfect, if it speaks the truth, if its decrees are upright and its judgements are just, then when we are faced with a moral question, we should not ask ourselves, ‘What does society think about this?’ or ‘How do I feel about this?’, but rather ask, ‘What does God have to say about this moral issue?’
This does not mean that we systematically reject everything that human laws say, but it does mean that we should evaluate them in the light of the supreme law, the Word of God.
Secondly, and most importantly, most of us are probably less wealthy than David was, and yet, can we say that we cherish God’s word more than our bank balance?
So we might ask ourselves, ‘But why draw a parallel between God’s Word and money? They’re not comparable!’ But if we’re asking ourselves this question, it’s perhaps because we haven’t fully grasped the value of God’s Word.
A Bible like this costs €2.50 – that’s the price of a coffee at the bakery on the corner! And yet what it contains can offer us something that a billion euros could never buy.
With a billion euros, we can afford everything that brings us pleasure, but we cannot buy the joy of the heart that David speaks of. We can pay for the best advisers, but we cannot buy the wisdom that God gives. We can surround ourselves with every possible safeguard, but we cannot buy a restored soul. And above all, with all the gold in the world, we cannot buy the opportunity to know personally the God who created the universe.
Let’s ask ourselves: do we regard the Bible as merely important, or do we truly desire it? Do we read it simply because that’s what Christians do, or do we long to hear God speak to us and transform our lives through his Word?
These questions lead us to another question: what happens when we truly allow God’s word to enlighten us? That is our final point.
Come to him: God saves
Let us continue from verse 12 to the end: ‘Your servant, too, is enlightened by them; for those who heed them, the reward is great. Who can discern their own errors? Forgive me for those I am unaware of. Preserve your servant, too, from pride: let it not take hold of me! Then I shall be blameless; I shall not commit grave sins. Be gracious to the words of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart, O Lord, my Rock, you who redeem me!’
David is not indifferent; he allows himself to be enlightened by God’s word because it reflects the beauty and goodness of God, which he can admire through creation. David’s heart is filled with worship for God and a longing for his word. David is drawn to God: the more he discovers his Lord, the more he longs to draw near to him and live under his benevolent authority. We see this in his attitude towards God; he calls himself God’s servant.
If there’s one film that illustrates David’s attraction to God particularly well, it’s The Lord of the Rings. Perhaps some of you are familiar with this film; I won’t summarise it because that would take three hours. But there’s a character called Boromir, a valiant knight who, at the start of the film, refuses to submit to the authority of the future king, Aragorn, for various reasons. But as their journey progresses, Boromir gradually discovers who Aragorn really is. He sees his courage, his humility, his loyalty and his leadership. So much so that, as he lay dying, Boromir finally acknowledged his authority, pledged his allegiance to him and, with his last breath, said to him: ‘I would have followed you, my brother, my captain, my king.’
There is something similar in David: the more he contemplates God, the more he desires to belong to him and to live under his authority. His obedience is not a burden, but the response of a man filled with wonder at the perfection of his Creator.
But precisely because he contemplates this perfection, David finds himself faced with a problem: how can a sinful man live in accordance with the will of a perfectly holy God?
David knows that obedience to God is good and that it is a source of blessing; this is what we see in verse 12. But when he looks at himself in the light of this perfect Word, that is when the trouble begins.
David was a glorious king, a man after God’s own heart. Yet, as we know, David was also a sinful man – an adulterer, a murderer, a man incapable of perfectly obeying the Lord’s law. And he knows this; he is aware that the gap between his imperfection and the perfection God demands is too great for him to live in fellowship with Him.
So we might say to David: ‘Pull yourself together! You know God’s law; you just have to obey it!’ But let’s be honest: how many times have we disobeyed a simple rule even though we knew it? How many times do we let ourselves go a little over the speed limit because ‘it’s fine, it’s no big deal’? How many times have we lied because ‘it’s fine, it’s just a little white lie that doesn’t matter at all’?
The problem isn’t just that we don’t know God’s law; it goes much deeper than that. The problem is that we don’t always want to obey God’s law! Sometimes we want to follow our own rules because we think we can do better than God; it’s in our nature—that’s what verse 14 calls pride.
And I have some more bad news! Our problem runs so deep that we are sometimes unable to recognise our sins; we sin without realising it. This is what David says in verse 13: he acknowledges that he commits sins without even realising it; he understands that he cannot even trust his own judgement.
And this is precisely where the Word of God comes in. You’ll recall that in verse 8 we read that the law of the Lord restores the soul. But it does so in a way we often don’t even suspect. How? By bringing to light what is wrong with us, by exposing our sin. God’s law provides an honest diagnosis of the state of our hearts, and that is a good thing! To prescribe the right remedy, a doctor must make the right diagnosis. A good doctor cannot prescribe the right medicine unless he has first identified the cause of the illness.
But then what is the remedy? What does David do? Look at verse 13: ‘Forgive me for the sins I am unaware of. Also, keep your servant from the spirit of pride.’ David knows himself; he knows full well that he is incapable of obeying God perfectly in his own strength. So he appeals to God’s grace; he asks God to forgive his sins and to keep him from pride. God’s grace is the remedy for the problem of sin. God’s commandments are not there so that we can perform and achieve a sufficient level of obedience to stand before God; no, they are there to bring us to our knees before God’s grace.
Our God is truly astonishing. He is all-powerful, He is holy, He is perfect. Faced with all these superlatives, David ought to do just one thing: flee! And we should all do the same; we are unworthy of God’s perfection, incapable of obeying Him.
And therein lies the great paradox of this psalm: David does not flee from God; he runs towards Him!
Look at the end of verse 15: ‘O Lord, my rock, my Redeemer!’ To put it simply, God’s grace is manifested through redemption. When we wrong someone, we often ask them, ‘How can I make amends?’ But when we wrong God, God does not wait for us to make amends; He redeems us Himself. Such is God’s mercy, which does not give us the punishment we deserve, and such is God’s grace, which offers us the forgiveness we do not deserve!
How does God do this? How does He redeem us? David did not know all the details of this plan of salvation, but look at what the apostle Peter says about the prophets, of whom David was one. I read from 1 Peter 1:10–11: ‘The prophets who spoke of the grace that was to be yours searched and investigated this salvation. They were trying to discover the time and circumstances indicated by the Spirit of Christ within them, as He testified in advance to the sufferings of the Messiah and the glory that would follow them.”
David did not know Jesus Christ with the clarity we have today, but the Spirit of Christ was already at work within him; David knew of God’s promise of salvation and could glimpse the coming Messiah.
The difference is that David looked in faith towards a promise that was yet to be fulfilled – that of the coming of the Messiah. We, on the other hand, look in faith towards a promise that has already been fulfilled. But at the heart of it all is the same Saviour: Jesus Christ.
Jesus lived a life of perfect obedience, something of which neither David nor we ourselves are capable. On the cross, Jesus bore the condemnation that our disobedience deserved. This is how a perfectly holy God can welcome sinful people whilst remaining perfectly just: our sin is not ignored; it is paid for.
David does not run to God because his sin is less serious than he thought. He runs to God because God’s grace is greater than his sin.
And David’s response to God’s grace is magnificent: ‘Be pleased with the words of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart.’ David knows that he has been redeemed by God and forgiven his sins, so he desires to offer a life that is pleasing to God—a life that is a praise to God’s glory.
Are we ready to offer every aspect of our lives to God in gratitude for His grace towards us?
To conclude, the heavens proclaim God’s glory, His Word proclaims His holiness, and our redeemed lives proclaim His grace.
So let us marvel at our God’s creation, devour His Word with an insatiable hunger, and live a life wholly devoted to His glory.