The Penetrating Voice
Psalm 19

On my Mom and Dad's first date, my Mom talked almost without pause the whole time. She was determined not to be a silent date. My Dad loved it. He was scared stiff of a silent date. I can sympathize. I hate having to carry a whole conversation by myself.

Many of us come to God expecting a silent date. Our prayers and worship feel like a monologue. I know this is a problem because three of four times this past year different people have asked me: "Does God speak to you?" The question is an honest one and it comes out of a longing to hear clearly and without doubt that God is speaking. We know God is there. We believe that God HAS spoken. But does he speak to me? now?

The emphatic message of Psalm 96 is this: God Speaks. And he does not speak softly. "The heavens declare the Glory of God" -- they shout out God's glory. And he never stops speaking. "Day after pours forth speech . . ." There is never a time when he is silent. And his voice permeates the world. There is no place or language or culture where his voice does not penetrate. God speaks and he is never silent.

We receive an excellent theological journal in our home each month. Let me quote a recent issue. The journal is Zoobooks. It comes to Stephen, but he generously shares it. This issue is called "Animal Wonders," and it begins with this profound theological statement: "Everything in nature has a purpose." Spiny puffer fish that look like enormous golf-balls, leafy sea dragons that disguise themselves as plants, chameleons with tongues longer than their bodies -- all of these have a purpose. The editors were saying more than they realized. Everything in nature DOES have a purpose, and that purpose is to loudly declare the glory of God. The deepest ocean, the harshest desert, the farthest reaches of space -- there is no place to escape the penetrating, permeating voice of God. So I can say with absolute assurance: God spoke to you this morning. From the very moment you awoke, God was speaking. In the rain he says, "I'm merciful." In the sun rising behind the clouds, "I'm faithful." In the flowers, "If I can clothe flowers like this, why are you worried?" In the thunderstorm and earthquake: "I am not to be trifled with."

This is my father's world and to my LISTENING ears ALL nature sings and round me rings the music of the spheres.

God's speech in nature is enough to compel us to worship. God speaks and is never silent. That's the message of the first 7 verses. Then David changes focus dramatically: "The Law of the Lord is perfect . . ." At first we are tempted to suspect that two different Psalms were accidentally squeezed together. What does law have to do with God's awesome speech in nature? David isn't talking just about the 10 commandments. He's talking about the whole of God's revealed law -- the kind of thing we find in Leviticus: pages and pages of regulations about food, and mildew and skin diseases. Most of us, given a choice between worshiping by walking in a garden, and worshiping by reading Leviticus would not have difficulty choosing. And we would hardly think of them as similar experiences. But the Psalmist does. Both move him to worship. The words that he uses for the law are the words of a lover: perfect, giving joy to the heart, radiant, sweeter than honey. How is it that the law can arouse such passion? I can understand such language used of nature, but applied to the law? One seems full of life and vibrant, the other dry and brittle.

But to the Psalmist they are connected, because the same penetrating voice of God speaks through both. We see him draw the connection in verse 6: The rays of the sun permeate the earth so that "nothing is hidden from its heat." In the next breath the Psalmist is talking about the law. Just as the sun penetrates and permeates the earth, so also the law penetrates our hearts, speaking of the moral beauty and perfection of God. The sun pierces everywhere, dispelling darkness. The law does the same for our souls.

If God speaks and is never silent. If God's voice is continually heard in nature and penetrates our souls in the revealed law, then why do we so often feel like he is silent?

The answer is simple: We aren't really listening.

Sometimes when I call my children they do not come. When they return, I may say in exasperation, "why didn't you come when I called?" The ordinary response? "I didn't hear you, Dad." I know and the neighbors know that the problem is not with my voice. And the problem is not with my children's ears. Doctors assure us that their ears are fine. The problem is that they are not tuned in. They are not listening.

I can sympathize. It's a noisy world. There are a lot of distractions out there. My life is filled with noise. And even when I do get a quiet moment, there is noise INSIDE my head.

But there's another reason that my children sometimes don't hear my voice: They know what I have to say. When we listen to God's voice we hear lots of things that make us uncomfortable. Psalm 19 ends with an acknowledgment that when God's voice penetrates, it reveals things that are not very pretty: "Who can discern his errors, forgive my hidden faults." David comes to the point of conviction by allowing God's voice to penetrate so that the imperfection of his heart is revealed.

Two applications:

1. For our witness in the world. You will never meet anyone to who God has not spoken. There is nowhere on earth you can go that his voice has not reached. If anyone ever asks, "Does God speak," you can confidently reply, "Yes -- and he is speaking right now." God is never silent.

2. For our worship. We often come expecting a silent date. But God is never a silent date. Come to worship -- whether private or corporate -- with an expectation that God will speak to you. Don't come to worship to hear a preacher, or to hear music -- these are just means through which God speaks. Come to hear him.

Lord, teach me to listen. The times are noisy and my ears are weary with the thousand raucous sounds which continually assault them. Give me the spirit of Samuel when he said to you: 'Speak, for thy servant heareth." Let me hear you speaking in my heart. Let me get used to the sound of your voice that its tones may be familiar when the sounds of earth die away and the only sound will be the music of your voice. (A.W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God)