Psalm 19 God Speaks February 1, 2004 Some famous people are notoriously publicity-shy. They’re famous in that everyone knows who they are—and yet no one really knows who they are. Everyone knows what they look like, but no one knows what they’re truly like. That’s why it’s such a great coup for a show like “20/20” to get an exclusive interview with one of those people. What will the individual say? What will we learn about them? Will we get to know them? Will we like them? Will the interview leave us wanting more—or will it leave us wishing that the individual had never broken their silence in the first place? Too often, of course, those interviews result in us feeling as though we know nothing more about the star than we did before—except that they must have purchased “The Great Big Book of Interview Clichés and Guarded Phrases” prior to the interview. Not that that will keep the network from relentlessly hyping the next “exclusive” interview. But how much hype do you think there would be if “20/20” were to get an interview with God? “God speaks!” What will he say? Will the interview be revealing? Will we find God appealing? Or will we just find him appalling? This morning God speaks through David. God reveals himself. He tells us things about himself, and he begins in nature. David writes: The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard. Their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world. In the heavens he has pitched a tent for the sun, Which is like a bridegroom coming forth from his pavilion, Like a champion rejoicing to run his course. It rises at one end of the heavens and makes its circuit to the other; Nothing is hidden from its heat. Living in the suburbs, the heavens perhaps don’t speak to us the way they did to David. As a youth, he had tended sheep in the countryside around Bethlehem. At night, there were no city lights to fill the sky and to dim—or even entirely obscure—the light of the stars. No, there was nothing besides a huge sky full of thousands of stars and brilliant constellations. Those stars spoke to David. They spoke of the glory and the power of the one who had put them there. In fact, they spoke constantly of that glory and that power. David says that the skies “pour forth” speech about God. Think of a bubbling spring which constantly pours forth water. That’s how constantly the skies speak of God. God still speaks to us through the stars. Go far enough into the country on a cloudless night and look up and you will see the stars proclaiming the glory of God and the work of his hands. But it seems that David found God’s loudest speaking in the sun. To the ancients the sun was an amazing, a powerful, an overwhelming, dominating thing. David describes it in vivid terms—“a bridegroom coming forth from its pavilion”—think of the burst of light as the sun comes over the horizon one of the Great Lakes—“like a champion rejoicing to run his course”—think of the way a bright sun dominates the sky during the day as it moves from one end of the sky to the other—“nothing is hidden from its heat”—think of the way that its power can be life-giving and also energy-sapping. It’s no wonder that people throughout history have revered the sun and been inclined to worship it. But here’s the thing: As powerful as the sun is, the sun works for God. David says, “In the heavens he has pitched a tent for the sun.” God not only put the sun there, but he pitched a blue tent over it and he called it “sky.” So what does God say to you through the heavens, through the skies, through nature as a whole? He says, “I’m powerful. How powerful? See those stars? I put them there. See the blinding, blazing sun? It works for me. I am powerful.” Day by day that’s what God says to everyone through nature. No one can miss it. The herdsman in Afghanistan gets to watch the same sun as the Eskimo in Alaska as the businessman in Manhattan. The voice of God through nature “goes out into all the earth, their words to the end of the world.” And although the herdsman and the Eskimo and the businessman may all speak different languages, God speaks to all of them through nature in a language that they can understand. Anyone who says that he doesn’t hear it is a liar. This psalm says as much and so does Psalm 14, which begins “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’” (Psalm 14:1) And that leaves people with no excuse for failing to listen when God speaks in other ways. There is another way in which God speaks to us also—a way that is far closer to us than the stars. Listen and see if you agree with what he says… David writes: The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul. The statutes of the Lord are trustworthy, making wise the simple. The precepts of the Lord are right, giving joy to the heart. The commands of the Lord are radiant, giving light to the eyes. The fear of the Lord is pure, enduring forever. The ordinances of the Lord are sure and altogether righteous. They are more precious than gold, than much pure gold; They are sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb. By them is your servant warned; in keeping them there is great reward. Yes, God speaks to us through his law. And that law is closer to you than you might even think. I don’t just mean that you’re getting really warm because in one of the chairs in front of you there is a Bible through which God speaks his law. No, I mean that God’s law is actually within you. It’s been in you from birth, and it’s called your conscience. It tells you that “this is right, and this is wrong.” But because God knows people, and because God knew that people would try to stubbornly deny what their hearts are telling them, God also put his laws, his statutes, his precepts, his commands, his ordinances in black and white in the Bible. Now a moment ago I asked you if you agreed with what God had to say here through David. And as you read God’s laws, you really have to agree with them, don’t you? You have to agree that what David says here is true—“the law of the Lord is perfect…the precepts of the Lord are right…the ordinances of the Lord are sure and altogether righteous…” As you read them, there isn’t a one of them that you can even dare to argue with or to suggest that it is anything less than perfect, right, and pure. You shall have no other gods. You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God. Remember the Sabbath day. Honor your father and mother. You shall not murder. All perfect. You shall not commit adultery. You shall not steal. Both right. You shall not give false testimony. You shall not covet your neighbor’s house. You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife or his workers or his animals or anything that belongs to your neighbor. Pure, pure, and pure. Even unbelievers show that they hear the voice of God and that they recognize its perfection, rightness, and purity. Even unbelievers generally admit that these are good standards by which mankind ought to live. And if we think about it for a moment, it’s not surprising that God’s laws are “perfect…trustworthy…right…radiant…pure…[in summary] altogether righteous.” After all, those are all words that not only describe God’s law, but they describe God himself. When God speaks in his law, he also speaks to us about himself, and he says, “I am trustworthy, right, radiant, pure—and perfect.” There’s no arguing with that. But what about the rest of what David said in those verses that I read? Do you agree with that? Well, I can find one part that I certainly agree with, and that’s the part where David speaks of God’s laws and he says, “By them is your servant warned.” Yes, there’s a huge warning that God speaks to us through his law, and this is what he says: “Unless you match up with the standards that I myself live up to, you can bet that you will see my righteousness in the form of righteous anger and judgment against imperfect, untrustworthy, wrong, impure, altogether unrighteous people such as yourself.” Knowing that, do you agree with David’s assessment of God’s law? I don’t. When I listen to God speak to me in his law, I don’t find David’s assessment of God’s law to be accurate at all. I don’t find God’s law giving “joy to the heart.” I don’t find God’s law giving “light to the eyes.” I don’t find them to be “sweeter than honey.” And I most certainly don’t find them to be capable of “reviving the soul.” Instead I find them to bring grief to my heart as I realize my sin. I find God’s laws to bring darkness to any ray of hope that I might have had. I find the law to be bitter, and I find that I agree with Paul, who said that the law—far from reviving the soul—kills. When David says to me that “in keeping them there is great reward” I want to say, “Oh, shut up, David! I don’t want to hear about any unrealistic, hopeless, impossibilities!” In fact, I don’t want to hear anything from God or anything about God anymore. I’m like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden who had run smack into the perfection of God’s law and sinned. When God came looking for them and wanted to talk to them, they hid because they didn’t want to hear God speak anymore. Me neither. I can’t stand to hear God speak through nature anymore, because nature tells me that he’s powerful. I can’t stand to hear God speak through his law anymore, either--because his law tells me that he’s perfect, I’m not, and that he hates and punishes sin. And when I listen to God saying through nature, “I’m powerful” and God saying through his law, “I’m perfect—and you’re not”, I fear that sort of a God, and I have no interest in running into or hearing any more from him. I mean, if you did run into him, what would you say? “Forgive my hidden faults”? As though God’s just going to say, “Oh, yeah, I’ll just pretend that these things never happened. I’ll pretend that I didn’t see them. I’ll pretend that you were able to hide them from me as well as you hid them from the world. And oh yeah, I’ll just stop being holy and just and righteous, I’ll just go against everything I have spoken to you in my law.” And yet “forgive my hidden faults” is exactly what David says. He writes, “Who can discern his errors? Forgive my hidden faults.” David comes right out and says to God, “I’ve got more sins than I even know. I’ve got so many sins and so many bad intentions that I don’t even realize them all. That flash of irritation I felt with my kid? Error, fault, sin. That lingering look as I flipped through the channels? Error, fault, sin. And who knows how many more of those I’ve got?” Of course we know the answer to that question. God can discern our errors, and our “hidden faults” are not hidden at all to him. Yet David dares to ask God to forgive him. Why? Because David has heard God speak—not merely of his power in nature, not merely of his holiness in his law, but David has heard God speak of his love in his gospel. Later on in the psalm David calls God his “Redeemer.” That’s a word that has the meaning of “one who buys back.” God’s speech in nature does not change one bit. He’s still powerful enough to give orders to the sun. God’s speech in his law does not change one bit. He still demands absolute perfection and will not settle for anything less. But in God’s gospel he speaks to you and he says, “About that perfection I demanded in my law? I will give it to you through my Son. He will follow my perfect laws—perfectly. He will keep those laws—and in his keeping them there will be great reward—for you. And he will redeem you, he will buy you back, he will pay the penalty that you owed by suffering my righteous anger for sin.” And now it all fits together. Without the knowledge of Jesus this psalm is a bunch of nonsense. With the knowledge of Christ our Redeemer, it all fits. When God speaks to me through the gospel, the entire psalm reads differently, because when I hear God speak to me through the gospel, I hear God say, “I love you.” And now I go back to God’s law and I see it differently. I hear God speaking something else to me through his law—something else besides “Be holy—or else.” I hear God saying, “I love you—and I have given you these perfect, these trustworthy, these right, radiant, pure, and sure laws to follow so that you might have a life of purity—and the wisdom and the joy that comes from doing so.” I look at God’s law and I delight in the fact that he loves me enough to give me these laws to govern and guide my life. I find those laws to “give joy to the heart” and “light to the eyes.” Yes, I find not only God’s gospel, but even his law to be “sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb.” Then I go back to nature and I hear God speaking to me. But now instead of just hearing, “I’m powerful” I hear “I love you—and I gave you this world for your joy and for your wonder.” What’s left to say once God is done speaking? Not much. Not much other than what David says to end the psalm—words worth memorizing: Keep your servant also from willful sins; may they not rule over me. Then will I be blameless, innocent of great transgression. May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer. Like David, we ask God to keep sin from ruling in our hearts and killing the faith and the joy that the message of God’s love has worked in us. In other words, we ask God that our lives—not merely our actions, but also the words of our mouths, and the thoughts of our heart—would be in accord with God’s perfect, radiant, pure laws. Having heard God speak words of love and forgiveness to us, we now want to speak—and think—and act—and we want it all to say one thing: Thank you, my Rock and my Redeemer. Amen.