Posts Tagged Psalm 8
In this series of posts we’re exploring the different ways the Bible confronts the reader and the appropriate response to each.
#3 – THE BIBLE AS REVELATION OF GOD’S MAJESTY
Christians often take the mind-blowing fact of God’s self-revelation for granted. Our faith stands or falls on the foundational belief that God has stooped to reveal himself to his creatures through the limited mode of human language and speech. The Scriptures are the very Word of the God who spoke and the entire cosmos came into being.
How can this stunning belief not continuously leave us with jaws dropped and hearts gripped? And the more we read what God has revealed in Holy Scripture, the more we realize that God does not desire to be hidden from his creatures. His majesty and glory are intended to be beheld by those who are “pure in heart.” His divine attributes are on display in lofty psalms of praise, vivid theophanies that shake the earth and strike people dead, poetic descriptions of God’s creative handiwork, God’s mighty power and mercy revealed in his salvation acts on behalf of his people.
When the reader encounters the Holy God at Sinai, coming down in thick cloud accompanied by fire and thunder, the reader should be struck with holy, paralyzing fear and awe. Likewise, when we read of Isaiah’s encounter with God in the temple (Isaiah 6) the appropriate response is to, like Isaiah himself, stand speechless and overwhelmed by our own sin in the presence of such a holy God. When Scripture paints a picture of God’s train filling the temple, high and lifted up, we ought to join the Angels in crying, “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory” (Isaiah 6:3). Read the rest of this entry »
My new favorite daddy-Peter time activity these days is stroller walks around town while listening to the Daily Audio Bible podcast. Now, 95% of the time Peter is fast asleep from the motion, soothing wind and outdoor noises. Strollers are the baby-equivalent to a sleeping pill.
Well, the other day Peter was wide awake as we walked. He was cooing, giggling, and smiling up at me as we traveled along on one of the most beautiful fall evenings of the year. I was soaking in the Word of God — the Psalmist celebrating the majesty and glory of God displayed in the beauty of what he’s made: “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands” (Psalm 19).
As tears filled my eyes at another reminder of God’s awesomeness, I looked down at Peter again. He was staring up into my eyes, filled with delight and awe at his daddy. What a moment: Myself, overwhelmed in amazement at the Creator of the Universe, and Peter’s amazement at his dad. I began telling Peter, “Look past me, Peter, to the big sky above! Don’t look at me! Look at the trees, birds, clouds, the bright shining sun — the handiwork of God! I’m nothing in comparison to these. Look above, Peter!”
I was saying to Peter what the Psalmist said to God: In comparison to God’s glory, “What is a mere mortal, that you are mindful of him” (Psalm 8)?
Despite my pleas to look past me and behold something far greater, Peter continued his gaze at me with adoration. I continued, “Peter, I’m just your earthly father. I’m going to mess up. I’m going to let you down. I’m a sinner. But let me tell you about your Heavenly Father and his son Jesus… Peter, look beyond me! Look at the sky above and behold the Creator!”
But he responded with a “Aaaaooooh! Laaaahaah!” and a continued to smile at me. Read the rest of this entry »
I heard a bird chirping today. I actually stopped for a brief moment and listened. It was a good sound, and a good sign. Sign of what? A sign, I believe, of freedom. Yes, freedom from self-absorption.
Our cell-phone society confines our internet identities to the rat mazes of our own making. Phone calls, meetings, appointments, tasks, chores, and the rest all keep our hearts and minds constantly turned inward onto ourselves, our worries, our responsibilities. I am as guilty as any. But those whose ears are still attuned to Nature’s subtle whispers, those who hear the singing of the morning bird, the trickling of the melting brook, or the rustling of the autumn leaves; and those whose memories are tickled by the crisp scent of the encroaching winter air or the fresh smells of spring’s blossoming bouquet — these blessed ones inhabit, I believe, a much larger universe than the rest. Does our inattentiveness to nature’s mysticism reflect the extent of our domesticated, self-absorption?
I remember climbing on the roof as a teenager, and marveling at the “awesomeness” (if this word has any meaning left) of a clear, starry night sky. Read the rest of this entry »