Revelation's Role and Result

By Dr. Neil Neilson

For almost all of the 34 years of our marriage—and even for a couple of years before that—I have written a Valentine’s Day poem for my wife.

Don’t get too excited.

Each one has been on the subject of my love for her, marking the years of our marriage with various themes, forms, and moods. Some have been serious, some funny. But one thing has been common to them all: it’s really lousy poetry.

And here is this year’s version, which she will see for the first time on Tuesday night. You can’t see it. And when she sees it, she will mercifully bracket her genuine poetic sense. She’s an excellent poet—an actual poet—and she will enjoy it and appreciate it. And with a bit of an ironic tone in her voice, she will even analyze it as if what I’ve written deserves a kind of Shakespearean attention.

And that brings us to Psalm 19, of which C. S. Lewis wrote,

“I take this to be the greatest poem in the Psalter and one of the greatest lyrics in the world.”

In other words, it’s better than mine.

There is so much here of true literary quality, particularly the distinctive elements of Hebrew poetry: rhythm, parallel structures of meaning, and provocative metaphors and similes. As Lewis also notes, these distinctive elements are, in God’s providence, capable of surviving translation into other languages—unlike rhyme, which is almost impossible to translate. And so even in English, we can appreciate the grandeur and beauty of this poem.

If you’re interested in exploring the literary and poetic qualities of the Psalms further, I certainly recommend C. S. Lewis’s Reflections on the Psalms, and also Leland Ryken’s Words of Delight: A Literary Introduction to the Bible. I should add that Dr. Ryken served as the literary consultant throughout the translation process of the English Standard Version of the Bible, which I believe you have in your hands this morning.

But Psalm 19 is not only a magnificent piece of poetic art. It is also a psalm that presents God’s people with a way of grasping the grandeur and beauty of His revelation of Himself—both in nature and in the Scriptures—and then shows us what our proper response should be to such grand truth.

This treasure, as you’ll see it beautifully laid out—and I’m grateful for the way it’s arranged in our bulletin this morning—comes in sections.

Verses 1–6 lay out what is commonly called God’s general revelation.

Verses 7–11 lay out what is commonly called God’s special revelation.

Verses 12–14 lay out the powerful, saving, sanctifying effect God intends for us as a result of that revelation.

Here’s an initial statement of the melodic line of the psalm, so that as you listen, you can follow it:

The study of and delight in God’s general revelation rightly prompts the study of and delight in God’s special revelation—and both rightly prompt us, ultimately, to delight in the gospel and to gospel fruit in our lives.

Here we learn how God intends His world and His Word to lead us ultimately to redemption.

First, then, in verses 1–6, the psalmist speaks of God’s wordless witness in and through His creation. This is commonly called general revelation—sometimes referred to as “the book of the world.” And the psalmist’s main point is that the heavens, and by implication all created things, witness to their Creator.

As James Boice, longtime pastor at Tenth Presbyterian in Philadelphia, put it: the book of the world provides a revelation of God’s existence and power so great that it should lead every human being on the face of the earth to seek God out, to thank Him for bringing him or her into existence, and to worship Him.

This glory of God is not what we might call moral glory. You’ll notice that the name for God here in Hebrew is El, a very general name meaning God, Creator. And the glory here is not moral glory—His attributes such as justice, mercy, love, goodness, grace. It refers rather to His existence, majesty, and power in creating all that is. We’ve been singing about it this morning so wonderfully.

In Romans 1, Paul says that the glory of God’s creation not only inspires worship of His awesome majesty, but is available to every human being on the face of the earth. His eternal power and divine nature have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse. This magnificent panorama of God’s glory in creation rightly inspires worship and awe—and rightly brings condemnation for those who refuse to acknowledge the Creator.

Interestingly, for those of us involved in education—particularly Christian education—verses 1–6 have marvelous implications for what we do in the classroom across the disciplines. We learn here that nature is worthy of being studied; that it is beautiful, observable, understandable. We are not trapped inside the subjectivity of our own minds. We can observe patterns, regularity, order. We can measure them. We can identify causal interactions. We can draw conclusions about how our efforts might affect what exists, for good or for ill.

Nature speaks continuously—day and night. It speaks universally—it goes to the ends of the earth. There is not a single human being anywhere who does not have this wordless witness to God right in front of their eyes.

Finally, this psalm encourages not only the study of astronomy, which seems to be the specific reference here, but all the chapters of the “book of the world.” We see mathematics and physics—measuring, calculating, patterns, order. And we’ve already noted the form of this psalm: it is poetry, magnificent high literary art with metaphor, simile, lyrical shape, and rhythm.

Nature speaks. I love the line: the sun is like a bridegroom coming forth from his chamber.

And if you notice in your Bibles, the introduction says, “To the choirmaster”—this is intended as a psalm for singing.

There’s affirmation of the musical arts here as well. In other words, in the broadest sense, what we have in these first six verses is not only a mandate to worship the grand Creator of the universe, but an affirmation—a glorious affirmation, I believe—of all our vocations, all our callings, which have as their raw materials the stuff of God’s created world. And the realization of such a gift, such a creation in all its order and usefulness and variety, ought to prompt everyone to praise the Creator.

So when you go to work tomorrow morning—or even as you sit here this morning—look around. Everything you see shouts the glory of God. Whether you’re in business or medicine or law or manufacturing or even ministry, whatever the materials and instruments of your craft, whatever the principles that govern their proper use, whatever the benefits and fruit of your vocation—all of it declares the glory of God. And as Romans 1 says again, we ignore that glory to our peril. What a celebration this is of the grandeur and beauty of the world and everything in it.

But the psalmist does not stop there, because that picture of God’s revelation is not yet complete. God shows Himself not only in the wordless witness of His creation, but also—and far more specifically and profoundly—in His Word, His full witness, the Scriptures. So second, in verses 7–11, the psalmist speaks of God’s written witness in the Scriptures, often called special revelation, sometimes referred to as “the book of the Word.”

Now, the transition from verse 6 to verse 7—you noticed that I paused—has seemed to some so abrupt that they conclude these must originally have been two separate psalms, somehow artificially joined together. Actually, I think it’s evidence that the psalmist understood that these two subjects—the book of the world and the book of the Word—are inescapably and intimately intertwined.

Listen to how C. S. Lewis describes that connection in terms of the poetry of the psalm. It’s a fairly long quotation, but worth hearing. Lewis writes:

First he thinks of the sky, how day after day the pageantry we see there shows us the splendor of its Creator. Then he thinks of the sun—the bridal joyousness of its rising, the unimaginable speed of its daily voyage from east to west; finally, of its heat, not the mild heats of our climate, but the cloudless, blinding, tyrannous rays hammering the hills, searching every cranny. The key phrase on which the whole poem depends is “there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.” It pierces everywhere with its strong, clean ardor. Then at once, in verse seven, he is talking of something else, which hardly seems to him something else, because it is so like the all-piercing, all-detecting sunshine. The law is undefiled, clean and everlasting—luminous, severe, disinfectant, exultant. As he has felt the sun, perhaps in the desert, searching him out in every nook of shade where he attempted to hide from it, so he feels the law, searching out all the hiding places of his soul.

And of course, Lewis is on strong biblical ground here. You remember those words from Hebrews 4: The word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword… discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And no creature is hidden from its sight. The physical sun, with all its searching light and scorching heat, powerfully points us to the even more—infinitely more—penetrating, white-hot, judging and saving glare of the written Word of God.

It’s interesting: I noted earlier that the name for God in verses 1–6 is El, the most general name, meaning Creator. But here in verse 7, God’s name changes. It is now Yahweh—the promise-making, promise-keeping, speaking God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and David. And this Lord, Jehovah God, has indeed spoken. He has spoken in words that have been recorded for us in the Scriptures, written down so that all generations and all peoples and all language groups in all times and places would have this wordy witness to hold in their hands.

You may know that the first time any human being wrote down God’s words—at least as far as I can tell—was in Deuteronomy 31, where Moses and the people are about to cross into the land of promise and Moses is handing leadership to Joshua. And we read in Deuteronomy 31:9 these words: Then Moses wrote this law. Those words can slip by so easily, but they are enormous, game-changing words. People who had only heard God audibly would now be able to hear, for generations to come, the very words of God—even to us.

Notice how this Word—these spoken words of God—is described. First, the nouns: law, statutes, precepts, commands, fear, ordinances. All of these together form a comprehensive understanding of God’s speech to us in the Scriptures. Whereas the knowledge of the book of the world requires awe and thanksgiving at His majesty, the book of the Word—law, commands, fear—requires a moral and spiritual response. We are to revere Him. We are to fear Him. We are to obey Him.

Notice the adjectives: perfect, sure, right, clean, true. Utter perfection of God’s revelation. Utter truth. Not one stitch of falsehood or error throughout.

And then notice the verb-based phrases describing the fruit of God’s Word taken in: it revives the soul. It makes wise the simple. It gives joy to the heart and light to the eyes. It endures forever. It warns us and brings great reward.

The book of the world—with all its grandeur and beauty and wonder and richness and usefulness—simply cannot provide such satisfactions and joys and blessings as these.

The psalmist is urging us to see all our engagement in the world—our study, our work, our callings, our enjoyment—to see all of it in the context of His revealed Word, which is more to be desired than gold, sweeter than the sweetest honey.

As wonderful as our vocations are, as interesting and productive as they may be, they are incomplete, unredemptive, and ultimately unsatisfying apart from the special revelation of the Scriptures. In fact, the whole counsel of Scripture tells us clearly that we cannot ultimately understand the world around us apart from God’s written Word, which enables us to see everything in light of God’s heart for His creation and His ultimate purpose to redeem and reconcile all things to Himself.

And let me just say briefly: this is one of the truths of Scripture that has filled me with excitement as I think about what comes next for me. Because in places where the gospel is powerful, where the church is growing, where population and economic growth are exploding—in places like Indonesia and India, and soon Cambodia and Laos—there is a burgeoning movement in Christian education. Church leaders there are seeking to drive the truths of the gospel and the framework of Scripture into every nook and cranny of how people think about everything.

In fact, they tell me they love the history of this country, where centuries ago universities and colleges were founded and grounded in the framework of the Scriptures. And I think we can fairly say that learning in that context has given rise to so many of the blessings of our culture. I also think it’s fair to say that we are in danger in this country of ignoring or forgetting that history—or taking it for granted. Not so in Indonesia, where there is a hunger for thoroughly biblical Christian education, wedded to population growth and economic growth. I’ll talk more about that later.

But the point here is this: if the book of the world rightly inspires worship of the Creator God because of what He has made, how much more should the book of the Word inspire in us wonder and humility and worship and obedience and holiness and joy. El is Jehovah.

And if you enjoy God’s creation in all its forms and manifestations—if you love nature and working in your garden, if you love your home and your work and your family and your stuff—then you ought, fairly, to run to those opportunities and contexts where you might hear this Creator God actually speak in words you and I can understand.

God has spoken. And God speaks. And I just want to say: how dare we, as God’s people, be satisfied with the wordless witness of creation—wonderful as it is—when we have this word full witness, which, according to James 1, can save our souls.

But we’re still not at the end of the psalm’s story. For God intends all His revelation—both general and special—to lead us somewhere. And so we turn to verses 12–14, where the psalmist speaks of the ultimate purpose of all this. Why the book of the world, ultimately? Why the book of the Word?

Because in God’s design, general revelation is not an end in itself. It is a glorious thing—good and useful in leading every human being who does not willfully deny it to acknowledge and worship God as Creator. But it is not enough simply to celebrate God’s creational gifts and our vocations.

And in God’s design, neither is special revelation an end in itself. The Bible—God’s inspired, breathed out Word—while necessary and essential to genuine faith and discipleship, is ultimately intended to lead us, by God’s Spirit, to repentance and faith and holiness and trust.

We can become excellent Bible scholars. We can study it, know it, even enjoy it cover to cover—and still miss God’s intention for us. We can become like those in John 5:39, of whom Jesus says, “You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life.”

And so we come to verses 12–14:

"Who can discern his errors? Declare me innocent from hidden faults. Keep back your servant also from presumptuous sins; let them not have dominion over me. Then I shall be blameless and innocent of great transgression."

Here we see the response God desires. My good friend Don Carson puts it this way: here is what God desires from general revelation and special revelation. Carson writes that God desires more than awe in the face of transcendent power, more than personal delight in the personal, talking God. The appropriate response is repentance and faith and zealous prayer that God Himself would purify us within and make our words and meditations pleasing in His sight.

Repentance of hidden faults—those so deeply buried we may not even know they’re there.

Repentance of presumptuous sins—those deliberate acts of defiance against God’s expectations.

And not just repentance, but a prayer for God’s protection: Keep back your servant from presumptuous sins; let them not have dominion over me.

But it is even more than a prayer of repentance, more than a prayer for protection in the face of temptation. I believe this is really a prayer of saving faith, because David prays a very curious phrase: Declare me innocent… then I shall be blameless and innocent of great transgression.

What can make David innocent and blameless? What can make us innocent and blameless? Not our actual innocence—we are not actually innocent. David knew this full well. Read Psalm 32. Read Psalm 51. He is not claiming innocence as the ground of his acceptance before God. He is pleading for God’s declaration.

Declare me innocent, he cries—and only then will I be innocent.

What is this? I believe that here, hidden many centuries before Jesus came to earth, is a glorious pointer to what the Bible calls the gospel—the good news of how God mercifully and graciously forgives and redeems.

By the book of the world, we understand that He is the sovereign Creator.

By the book of the Word, we understand that He is holy and righteous—and that by horrible contrast, we, like David, are rebels who defy God in our hearts. We are helpless and hopeless, unable to rescue ourselves from our damnable predicament.

And so David throws himself on the mercy of God—God who, in His mercy, chooses not to treat David or us as our sins deserve, but forgives, declaring David and declaring us innocent. Not because we are innocent, but because God chooses to look upon the death of His own Son, Jesus—whom David saw only in shadow, and whom we now see clearly—whose death we celebrate together when we partake of the Lord’s Supper.

Jesus, the only righteous One, the only One who was ever actually innocent and blameless, died in our place as our substitute—the innocent for the guilty, the blameless for the blameworthy—paying the price for our rebellion against our holy God. And God accepts that payment. On the merits of Jesus’ death, He declares us innocent and blameless before Him.

Did you know Psalm 19 declares justification by faith alone? What a glory.

But even that is not the end. The psalm closes with that beautiful, familiar verse:

"Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my Redeemer."

David knows he is forgiven by God’s gracious declaration. Now he prays that his mouth and his heart—all he says and even all he thinks and feels—would be acceptable and pleasing to God. In other words, he prays that the God who justifies would also sanctify. It is really 1 John 1:9: If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

What other response can we offer to such a saving God, who has delivered us from our helpless and hopeless condition, but to respond with lives fueled by the gospel, fueled by His grace—lives of obedience and the pursuit of holiness in every aspect of our lives?

And so we have the full movement of this psalm:

If we delight in the wordless witness of God in general revelation, how much more should we delight in the wordful witness of God in special revelation? Our engagement with God’s world should prompt us to run to God’s Word, where we hear God speak.

But then, if we delight in the wordful witness of God in special revelation, how much more should we—even this morning—lay ourselves open to His convicting, forgiving, justifying, and sanctifying work? Humble and contrite, like David, we should run to Him so that He would do that work in us—not once for all, as if we took care of that long ago, but continually rejoicing in the good news of God’s declaration of our innocence, claiming Jesus’ death as the basis for that declaration, and pursuing gospel fueled holiness and obedience to the One who is our solid Rock and blessed Redeemer.

So, brothers and sisters, delight in God’s world and the callings He has given you to fulfill in it. Even better, delight in God’s Word and all that He tells us there about Himself and His redeeming purposes. But best of all, follow the path of Psalm 19—follow the book of the world and the book of the Word all the way to the gospel: the good news that God forgives sinners because Jesus died on the cross, and the good news that by this gospel we can speak and think and live acceptably in His sight.

That trajectory—that logic of book of the world, book of the Word, justification and sanctification—may be the end of the melodic line of Psalm 19, but it is not the end of the melodic line of God’s redemptive purposes for His creation and for you.

And we will close by singing a hymn that describes the ultimate end of this grand purpose of God—to reveal Himself so that we might know Him, be forgiven, and walk in holiness before Him. You’ll hear it so beautifully in the final verse:

"Finish, then, Thy new creation; pure and spotless let us be. Let us see Thy great salvation perfectly restored in Thee; changed from glory into glory…. To Jesus Christ alone be the glory and praise."

Niel Nielson is the president of Covenant College in Lookout Mountain, GA.

This article is based upon a verbatim transcript of a sermon by Dr. Nielson. It has been lightly edited by Copilot as well as the theological staff at Third Millennium Ministries.