Dan Olinger

On Pleasant Places, Part 4: Delight in God’s Instruction

June 11, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: The Call | Part 2: The Commitment | Part 3: Delight in God’s Care

The fourth stanza of Psalm 16 (vv 7-8) speaks of the instruction that David receives from God, both directly (v 7) and through the protection he demonstrates (v 8).

Directly

7 I will bless the Lord who has counseled me; Indeed, my mind instructs me in the night.

David doesn’t elaborate on what form this counsel takes. He speaks elsewhere of his admiration of and attention to God’s Word, which we know in his day would have consisted only of the Torah, Joshua, and perhaps Judges and Ruth. When he says that his “mind instructs me in the night,” it could well have been through his meditation on the Scripture that he had, as he describes in almost every verse of Psalm 119. Of course, that would be possible only with Scripture he had memorized.

But we also know that David was a prophet, receiving revelation directly from God, and that he realized that himself; he claims as much at the end of his life:

The Spirit of the LORD spoke by me, And His word was on my tongue (2Sa 23.2).

Did he understand that at the time he wrote Psalm 16? I think it’s reasonable to assume so. As he lies awake at night, perhaps he receives, believes, and understands God’s direct revelation. Perhaps that consists of the very Psalms he later wrote down as Scripture, or perhaps there were other direct revelations that are not recorded for us; we know that others in biblical times experienced that. Paul, for example, wrote letters, perhaps a good many, that are not in the Bible (1Co 5.9; cf 2Co 11.28), and since he was an apostle, all his teachings would have been authoritative (Jn 16.13). John notes that many of Jesus’ words and works, which are directly revelatory (Jn 1.14, 18), were not written down (Jn 20.30-31).

Now, we can’t view any of our original thoughts as God’s direct revelation; our situation differs significantly from David’s. But we can read, believe, and meditate on the same Scriptures that David had—and many more—and we can apply them to our decisions. The Lord can “counsel” us; and if we memorize the Scripture, hide it in our hearts (Ps 119.11), then we can be “instructed” by God “in the night.”

When we’re waiting to fall asleep at night, where do our thoughts turn? The very best place is the Scripture that we’ve memorized.

Through Protection

8 I have set the Lord continually before me; Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

What does it mean that David has “set the Lord before” him? God is omnipresent, and he looks after his people. David writes about that himself in Psalm 23. So why does he “set the Lord before” him?

I think he’s continuing his thought from the previous verse; he’s meditating, placing his thoughts intentionally on the Lord’s presence. Yes, God is always there, and he always cares; but when we’re in a relationship, we choose to place our thoughts on it. That’s an evidence of the depth of the relationship, of the love we have for our friend.

David says that the Lord is “at [his] right hand.” What does that position imply?

Well, 85 or 90% of people are right-handed. That means that most people carrying a weapon are going to carry it for effective use with the right hand. In those days a bodyguard would carry a shield to cover his protectee; that would ordinarily go on his left arm, to leave his right hand free for using the weapon. That means the protectee would be on his left, where he could more easily cover him with the shield. And that means the bodyguard is ordinarily standing on the right side of the person he’s protecting (IVPBBC).

Of course God needs no weapons, and his physical position doesn’t matter at all. David is using the typical physical situation to say that God is his protector and that he’s perfectly effective.

Sometimes fear is a reasonable response. But it’s never a necessary one.

Next time: David’s conclusion

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On Pleasant Places, Part 3: Delight in God’s Care

June 8, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: The Call | Part 2: The Commitment

In the third stanza of our psalm (Ps 16.5-6), David is contrasting the difficult life of those who follow false gods, which he’s just described, with the life that he has chosen along with the saints.

5 The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and my cup; You support my lot.

The word inheritance here is the same Hebrew word used of the allotment of land portions to the Israelite tribes in the conquered Canaan. The word carries implications of both loot–captured treasure–and inheritance from one’s father; and the tribal allotments in Canaan carry both senses, since they were both captured and distributed. Since David was of course born into the tribe of Judah, he had a family claim to a portion of Judah’s allotted inheritance. But here he is looking well beyond that little town of Bethlehem; the Lord, he says, is the portion that matters to him.

My wife and I own our house. Until recently, I hadn’t lived in a paid-for house since I was 10 years old, and it’s nice to know that this bit of land belongs to us. Land is solid and steady–unless you live on a fault line–and it’s a good feeling to say, “This is ours.”

But that’s not how David is thinking. He’s fully invested not in land, but in a person. God not only bestows David’s portion, but he “support[s his] lot”: he grasps it and keeps it safe. “Lot” here is not a piece of real estate; it’s the outcome of a throw of the dice, the portion that has fallen to him from the Lord.

The verse also mentions David’s “cup.” That speaks of his needs that are being supplied. We humans need water even more than we need food–and in the arid Middle East, even moreso. The Lord supplies all that he needs. David will return to this metaphor in his most famous psalm: “My cup runneth over” (Ps 23.5). God not only supplies as much as we need, but he pours out his supply abundantly, lavishly, extravagantly.

Investing in God not only sets you up well, but it guarantees eternal profit.

In his commentary on this verse, John Calvin writes,

This doctrine … ought to draw us away not only from all the perverse inventions of superstition, but also from all the allurements of the flesh and of the world. Whenever, therefore, those things present themselves to us which would lead us away from resting in God alone, let us make use of this sentiment as an antidote against them, that we have sufficient cause for being contented, since he who has in himself an absolute fullness of all good has given himself to be enjoyed by us. In this way we will experience our condition to be always pleasant and comfortable; for he who has God as his portion is destitute of nothing which is requisite to constitute a happy life.

Do you find yourself completely satisfied in God? What else do you think will make you truly happy?

In the next verse he restates this idea differently:

6 The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me.

The word lines here, as you might suspect, is a reference to boundary lines, or perhaps the surveying ropes that were used to lay out those lines. In context, he’s clearly referring not to his tribal allotment, except as an idea on which his much superior inheritance is based. The pleasantness and beauty of his life in God far surpasses anything that the Israelites saw in their tribal inheritance–and Canaan was a land “flowing with milk and honey’ (Ex 3.8), productive, bountiful, more than sufficient.

David’s insight was anticipated way back when the land was apportioned by Moses. Every tribe received a contiguous land assignment, except for Levi. His descendants were apportioned 48 cities throughout Canaan and the East Bank, where they could teach the Law to all the tribes of Israel. As Moses put it later,

Levi does not have a portion or inheritance with his brothers; the LORD is his inheritance, just as the LORD your God spoke to him (Dt 10.9).

And this connection in turn anticipates our status in eternity; we are all priests before God (Re 1.6; 5.10; 20.6).

In the next stanza, David will detail more specifically the benefits the Lord has graciously provided him.

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On Pleasant Places, Part 2: The Commitment

June 4, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: The Call

In the second stanza of Psalm 16, David expresses his commitment to God’s cause. He speaks of loyalty to God’s people, and then of his attitude toward those who worship other gods:

As for the saints who are in the earth, they are the majestic ones in whom is all my delight. The sorrows of those who have bartered for another god will be multiplied; I shall not pour out their drink offerings of blood, Nor will I take their names upon my lips.

David uses the common Hebrew word for “saints,” which literally means “holy ones.” We often think of “holiness” as simply piety or goodness—the holy person doesn’t do bad stuff—but that’s not usually what it means; rather, it speaks of being set apart, or special. “Saints,” then, are simply people who belong to God, who are his treasured possession—what both Paul and Peter call his “peculiar people” (Ti 2.14; 1P 2.9 KJV). (They got this language directly from the Mosaic Law [Ex 19.5; Dt 14.2; 26.18 KJV].)

So David says here that he views the people who belong to YHWH, the true God, as “majestic ones,” like kings or nobles or chieftains; the word is also used of the ocean (Ex 15.10), a ship (Is 33.21), and a tree (Ezk 17.23).

God’s people, he says, are the people I respect.

That’s a good reminder for us.

We tend to be tougher on people we’re more familiar with, because we know their foibles and weaknesses; familiarity does indeed breed contempt.

And I’m not denying their foiblitude. (Don’t look it up; it’s not in the dictionary.) Everybody’s that way. None of our fellow believers, including you and me, deserved to become children of God. But we are, and the fact that we’re in the same family should incline us to give one another a break, a measure of grace. Family matters. Not because we’re all really cool, but because we are chosen and set apart and loved by the God who made all things and whose Son has purchased us with his own blood.

That’s a good place to start.

David contrasts that with his view of those who have chosen false gods.

[Sidebar: there’s a translation issue here; does the Bebrew say they have “hastened after” (mahar I) or “bartered for” (mahar II) other gods? In this case, as in many others, the question has no impact on the essential meaning of the verse.]

He begins by saying that they have a difficult life ahead of them: their “sorrows … will be multipled.” That is what happens to people who live outside the umbrella of God’s protection. It’s the language God used to Eve as the consequence of the first sin (Ge 3.16).

Now, we should note that God is in fact kind even to those who reject him; he gives food (Ps 145.15) and sunshine and rain (Mt.5.45) even to those who are ungrateful and evil (Lk 6.35). It’s often said that he gives breath even to the people who use it to curse him. We call this generosity “common grace.”

It’s also true that the Christian life is not simply a matter of tiptoeing through the tulips. The consequences of living in a world broken by sin reach us as well, and we know the sorrows of sickness and death, of conflict and conflagration.

But God’s people have promises of his protection, wisdom, direction, and care that do not apply to those who reject him. In that sense, the choices of the godless result in a lifetime of sorrows.

Perhaps the clearest illustration of this principle is the child sacrifice practiced by the Canaanite religions. How can tossing a living infant into a raging furnace and hearing his dying cries not bring unimaginable sorrow—even if you think it will incline the god to send rain? Wouldn’t it also make you hate that god? David won’t even speak the name of such a god.

The contrast here beteween the false gods and the true God is stark. David’s decision is not difficult.

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On Pleasant Places, Part 1: The Call

June 1, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

I’ve found great benefit in memorizing a few of the Psalms. They bring comfort and calm, but also often challenge and courage. Psalm 2 is not Psalm 23.

I preached recently on Psalm 16. I’d like to share some of those thoughts here.

The folks at Logos have put together a nice interactive module on the Psalms, which, among other things, organizes them into seven genres: praise, thanksgiving, hymn, lament, wisdom, royal, and trust. Psalm 16 they categorize as a psalm of trust. This is the least populated genre, but it does also include, among others, Psalms 11, 23, and 91, which is a pretty good neighborhood.

Its superscription calls it a “Mikhtam” of, or to, David. A few people think they know what a Mikhtam is. I’d suggest that they don’t; it’s an unknown term, like “Selah.” There are five other Mikhtams (technically, mikhtamim) in the Psalms, and oddly enough, they’re consecutive, in a separate section of the book: Psalms 56-60.

I see five stanzas in the psalm, each two verses, except for the last, which is three. Maybe a post apiece.

David begins by calling out to the Lord:

Preserve me, O God, for I take refuge in You. I said to the LORD, “You are my Lord; I have no good besides You” (Ps 16.1-2 NASB).

The first verse sounds like this is going to be a lament psalm (compare Ps 15.1 and Ps 17.1), but this is the last we hear about anything potentially threatening. There’s not even any more prayer of any kind in the rest of the psalm.

He asks the Lord to “preserve” him—that is, to keep watch over, guard him. This is what God told Adam to do to the Garden (Ge 2.15); it’s what Cain asked if he was supposed to do for his now-slain brother (Ge 4.9); it’s what God promised to do for Jacob at Bethel (Ge 28.15). Commentator Charles Pfeiffer writes, “This prayer is not for deliverance from an enemy but for the continuance of the happiness he has already found.”

And so begins the rejoicing that will constitute the rest of the psalm.

Note that David uses two names for God in verse 2: “I said to YHWH [God’s personal name], You are my Master.” David begins by saying that God is both his covenant-keeping, loving ally and his lord/master. And he builds that on verse 1, which states that he is his refuge.

Do we see God in that way?

One more thought. The Hebrew of verse 2a is difficult; different English translations vary somewhat. I think the context of the psalm favors how the Good News Bible puts it: “All the good things I have come from you.” David will spend the rest of the psalm enumerating those that come to his mind.

A member of my extended family, who is with Lord now, had a particular fondness for a restaurant up across the state line in North Carolina. Our two families would enjoy driving up the mountain to eat the brunch buffet there. It was out of the way, surrounded by scenery (not far from Connemara, the Carl Sandburg home). I recall clearly one such meal, all of us seated around the table, stuffed to the gills, and him with his cup of tea, looking out the surrounding picture windows at the greenery.

“This is my happy place,” he said.

And we sat, just soaking it all in.

Well, I’m confident he has an even happier happy place now. But his words that day reflect, I think, the joy that David found in his God, the specifics of which he’s about to lay before us.

RIP, Steve.

Next time.

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On Hope in Loss, Part 2: Why

May 28, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1

What’s the “better way” to face the grief of relationships broken by death?

Unlike the weak and wishful platitudes offered at funerals by those “who have no hope,” believers handle their grief differently—because, as we often say at these times, we will see them again.

I’d like to take this post to note the source of this hope, something I have done explicitly only one other time, I think, since this blog began almost eight years ago. Time to correct that underemphasis.

The source of this hope is the gospel.

The God who is eternally love (1J 4.7-8) has made us in his image (Ge 1.26-27) and therefore love-oriented as well (1J 4.11). He has designed us to be loved by him, and to love him, even as we love others through close relationships.

But there’s a problem.

We humans—all of us, since the beginning of time—have resisted God’s love by disobeying his will (Ro 3.23). And that resistance, called sin, has prevented that close, intimate, loving relationship with God for which he designed us. We have replaced this highly privileged relationship with love for ourselves and love for our sin (Ps 14.1-3).

But there’s good news.

God still loves us (Jn 3.16), though he is repelled by our sin (Is 59.2). He lovingly offers us a solution to the problem that we started: forgiveness, no matter how deep or wide or intense or violent or disgusting our sin may be. No one is beyond the reach of this loving forgiveness.

How can he do this? Because he has initiated and then taken action to neutralize our sin problem. He won’t just ignore it; that would be unjust, and he is perfectly just. Instead he addresses it directly.

Remember that eternal, loving relationship within the Godhead? Those persons agree on a just way to neutralize our sin. The Son chooses to pay the judicial penalty for it. Now, the penalty is death, and God cannot die; so the Son agrees to become human—to be incarnated—and then to die in our place (He 2.14). And those who repent of their sin and accept, by faith, that substitute payment (or “vicarious atonement”) will have their sins erased, and the barrier to an intimate relationship with God is removed (Ro 10.9-11).

Only those who believe? What about the others?

Well, what do we think about someone who forces a relationship on us? We call him a stalker, or simply one who doesn’t respect our boundaries. A forced relationship is not a genuine relationship at all.

The relationship is freely offered, but not unwilling. It’s bilateral, in the sense that it is not forced.

The gospel continues. The relationship grows and matures over time, and even death doesn’t end it; in fact, death expands it infinitely and eternally (2Co 5.1-10).

That’s Good News. Gospel.

“Come, weary one, leave thy labor; Come, lift thy head, see thy Saviour and Friend; His arms are open wide, Your soul is satisfied; Come find his rest.”

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On Hope in Loss

May 25, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

I suppose you’ve noticed that death seems to come in clusters—whether the deaths of celebrities or of people you know. My wife and I have noticed that we’ve been attending a lot of funerals lately, and while none of them have been for family members, we have seen people we know and love grieve for their personal loss.

If it’s a believer who has died, the service often includes reference to 1 Thessalonians 4.13, where Paul exhorts his readers to “sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.” The officiant will often observe that we do sorrow, but not in the way that those without hope do.

The rest of Paul’s paragraph makes it clear that the “hope” to which he refers is the resurrection, which for the believer will involve eternal life in a glorified body.

But, whether believer or not, we still grieve.

Why?

I think it’s because we are relational people; we’re designed to have healthy relationships with others. That began when God designed marriage—”It is not good that the man should be alone” (Ge 2.18)—but it extends to broader relationships as well: children, extended family, friends, colleagues. Many of us are introverts, but we still value trusted friendships.

And the reason for this devotion is at our core, because we are in the image of God (Ge 1.26-27).

God is relational, and he has always been that way. Before there were humans, and even before there were angels—before there was anything but God—there was relationship. The Bible tells us that God is love; and since he does not change, he has always been love. But love requires relationship. With whom would God have a relationship, if he hadn’t created anything yet? His relationship must have been with another eternal being. And the Scripture teaches that there were two other eternal Persons in those days (if “days” makes any sense in that context). There was the Son, and there was the Spirit. And the three of them—one essence, but three persons—were in a perfect, eternal relationship of love—and of every other attribute: truth, justice, goodness, power, wisdom, and so forth.*

And so we, in the image of God, find it unnatural when a relationship is broken. We know instinctively that this is not the way we were designed. This is not the way it’s supposed to be. And so we all, even Christians, grieve. That is a proper response to the breaking, even the temporary breaking, of a relationship.

But Paul says that our grief is not like the grief of others; it is qualitatively different from that of those “who have no hope.” The resurrection changes our perspective dramatically.

Those without this hope bring comfort to themselves with thoughts that believers find unfulfilling:

“He will live forever in our hearts.” Well, our hearts are temporary too, and when we die, we will stop thinking about him. So no, he won’t live forever, even in that way.

“He has joined the universal soul.” Well, there’s no evidence of that, and what is the “universal soul,” anyway? How is that any meaningful sort of existence, or relationship to us?

Related to the previous platitude is a poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye:

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

Forgive my bluntness, but this is just wishful thinking. No, he’s not any of these things. And no, the white peacock who showed up at Paul’s house during the recording session was not the late John. And no, these thoughts do not serve as any realistic or meaningful basis for not grieving.

There’s a better way.

Next time.

* This logic was used by a Scottish theologian of the Middle Ages, Richard of St. Victor, to argue for the deity of Christ in his “On the Trinity.”

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Why Creation Matters, Part 24: Summary

May 21, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

This has been a long series. As I noted at its beginning, that’s pretty much the whole point: God bases a broad range of deductions and applications on the fact that he is the Creator.

It’s traditional in biblical theologies to note the development of various emphases as the Scripture proceeds chronologically. I do think we see some of that in the treatment of Creation Theology.

The Torah emphasizes the basic idea of the image of God. That sets the foundation for the relationship between God and man, the overarching theme and purpose of the Scripture.
The Prophets emphasize that the Creation demonstrates the power of God: power to deliver in the Former Prophets, and power to rule and to bring judgment or blessing in the Latter. I find it interesting that The Twelve highlight all three of those themes: Amos sees Creation as demonstrating God’s power to rule; Jonah, to judge; and Zechariah, to bless.
The Writings continue this theme of power for judgment and blessing, but their special emphasis is on the Creator’s praiseworthiness: Creation demonstrates his goodness, his greatness, his glory, his faithfulness, and his wisdom.
The emphasis of the Old Testament, then, appears to be on deriving from Creation the characteristics, the attributes of God, and responding with praise. The New Testament, it seems to me, takes a different tack.
The Gospels present Creation as a pattern for marriage, which is the basic unit of social order. John also presents the Son as the Creator, reflecting the NT introduction of the Trinity.
As it narrates the introduction of Christianity across the Roman Empire, Acts contrasts the Creator with false gods, who are incapable of creating anything.
Paul continues the focus on human behavior on the basis of Creation. He notes the foolishness of suppressing the facts of Creation; the role of God as Sovereign; the seriousness of proper worship; and the transitoriness of the current world as opposed to the world to come.
Hebrews continues the theme of transitoriness from Paul and the role of the Son in Creation from John and Paul. It also emphasizes the importance of believing that the worlds were created by the Word of God.
Peter expands on Paul’s criticism of those who suppress the truth of Creation.
And Revelation repeats the fact that Jesus is the Creator, and that this Creator is authoritative and thus to be worshiped. It then climaxes the Scripture by revealing a New Creation, freed from all the defects introduced to the Old by human sin.
So while the OT emphasizes the attributes of God as displayed in Creation, the NT seems to focus more on how we should respond to such a Creator.

So what do we have?

Recognizing the fact of the Creation—and the Creator—gives us worth as images of God and objects of his care.
Recognizing the power of the Creator gives us peace about the course of history and confidence in God’s plan and his ability to judge and bless with justice.
Recognizing the glory of the Creator lifts our eyes above the evils and cares of this world to focus on something infinitely greater than ourselves.
Recognizing the significance of Creation gives us wisdom in living out our roles as images and servants of God.
And anticipating the New Creation gives us a certain expectation—a hope, in the biblical sense—that there will be restoration and justice, and for all eternity.

Now it’s time for the other guys’ turn.

What does believing in evolution do for you?

I’ll wait.

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Why Creation Matters, Part 23: Proverbs

May 18, 2026 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

The theme of the Book of Proverbs is wisdom. We should expect, then, that if and when the author—mostly Solomon—speaks of creation, he would do so to reinforce his theme of wisdom. And indeed he does.

¹⁹The Lord by wisdom hath founded the earth; By understanding hath he established the heavens. ²⁰By his knowledge the depths are broken up, And the clouds drop down the dew (Prov 3).

Early in the collection he makes his primary point: the One who created the universe did so by his wisdom, which includes, as we’ve noted earlier, intelligence, or the ability to think; knowledge, or facts to process intelligently; and practical application of that knowledge to useful ends.

How does he know that? Well, it’s obvious: the cosmos clearly demonstrates the wisdom of whoever made it. The intradependence, and interdependence, of biomes, including symbiotic relationships, makes his wisdom obvious.

And by the way—in a symbiotic relationship, which organism evolved first? The flagellate, or the termite? The bee, or the flower? The whale, or the barnacle? Think on these things.

I suspect that’s why, after nearly a century of unanimous indoctrination about random evolution in public schools, the majority still don’t believe it. They believe that their eyes are in fact not lyin’.

A few chapters later Solomon expands on this theme. In chapter 8 he develops at some length a personification of wisdom. In the middle of that development he speaks of wisdom as present even before God created the cosmos (Pro 8.22-26) and as he did so (Pro 8.27-29), and then rejoicing over the completed project (Pro 8.30-31).

Throughout the passage he cites evidences of wisdom in both the planning and the execution:

Seas and springs (Pro 8.24);

Mountains and hills (Pro 8.25);

Dirt and dust (Pro 8.26);

Sky and sea (Pro 8.27);

Clouds and currents (Pro 8.28); and

Stability of both sea and land (Pro 8.29).

The Creator has done all things wisely and well.

I suppose this evidence of wisdom is the greatest obstacle to denying Creation. Wisdom speaks of intelligent design, and evidences of that design all around us speak to us in ways that we suppress only with effort—with dogged insistence (Ro 1.20).

Sometimes you just have to acknowledge the obvious.

Next time, a wrap-up.

Part 24: Summary

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Why Creation Matters, Part 22: Psalms 6

May 14, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Psalm 104 is the lengthiest discussion of Creation outside Genesis. But while the Genesis account is historical narrative, the Psalm is a poetic celebration.

The Psalmist begins with his application: we should bless the Lord. (Starting a speech with your conclusion, before presenting any argument or development, is called “inductive” speaking. It can make for a very powerful presentation.) He’ll support his contention throughout the psalm, but he puts the conclusion right up front. Worship, glorification, is serious business.

And why should we bless the Lord?

Because he is great. And not just great, but “very” great. Exceedingly. Mightily. Great with muchness.

This is not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill greatness. This is greatness that makes all the other greatnesses of time and space look relatively insignificant; specifically, he is “clothed with honor and majesty.”

Clothed. And for God, these are not dress-up clothes, dressed to impress at some social event by appearing more together than he actually is. Glory and honor are his everyday clothes; they are a natural expression of who he is and what he’s about.

And how do we know that? Well, we look at what he has done. And so follows a poetic celebration of the creation of the cosmos.

He manipulates light (Ps 104.2). We’re just surrounded by light, and we do the best we can to minimize its effects, when we need to, with parasols and SPF. But He spoke it into existence, and it does his bidding.
He has created the atmospheric forces (Ps 104.3)—and while he’s at it, the other “winds”—spirits—as well (Ps 104.4). (You may recall that “wind,” “breath” and “spirit” are all the same word in Hebrew.) They all do his bidding, even though to us they’re invisible.
He has created the solid ground (Ps 104.5)—which is so solid that Jesus later compared “impossible” prayer requests to moving mountains (Mt 21.21).
He has created the seas and told them where they may go (Ps 104.6-9; cf Job 38.8-11).
Speaking of water, he has created springs, which refresh animals (Ps 104.10-12) and rain, which nourishes the plants (Ps 104.13-16).
He provides shelter for wild animals (Ps 104.17-18).
He has created heavenly lights that guide creatures as to both time and place (Ps 104.19-23).

And here the Psalmist pauses for an outburst of praise (Ps 104.24). The variety of works that he has just enumerated demonstrate that God is not only very great; they show as well that he is both wise and generous. He’s good and kind.

And then he returns to his list for one more observation.

God has created sea creatures (Ps 104.25-30) and graciously provides for their sustenance—and determines when they die.

Wow.

What is the appropriate response to all this?

Creation declares the glory, power, and wisdom of the Creator (Ps 104.31-32).

And so, I will praise him while I have breath (Ps 104.33). And that meditation on his works and praise for them will bring joy and gladness to my heart (Ps 104.34).

Why? Because that’s what I was made to do (1Co 10.31).

You can choose a different path, if you want. But if you ignore your source and purpose, you will not prosper (Ps 104.35)—just as you can’t expect to ignore the oil warning light in your car and then gripe when the engine freezes up on you.

The Psalmist concludes with his opening—“bless the Lord”—making the psalm an extended inclusio (Ps 104.35).

Hallelujah! (Ps 104.35).

Do you see how much we miss when we dismiss the biblical narrative of Creation, either by denying it or by failing to meditate on it?

We miss the aesthetic; we miss the joy; and consequently, we miss our very purpose for living.

Next time we’ll consider what the book of Proverbs contributes to Creation Theology, and then one more post, Lord willing, will tie it all up.

Part 23: Proverbs | Part 24: Summary

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Why Creation Matters, Part 21: Psalms 5

May 11, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Psalm 148 begins with a command to praise the Lord (Heb haleluyah; Ps 148.1a) and where to do it (Ps 148.1b). Then begins a list of persons and things that the Psalmist intends to include in the command: namely, who and what should praise the Lord. The list is impressive:

angels and hosts (Ps 148.2)

sun, moon, and stars (Ps 148.3)

heavens and atmospheric waters (Ps 148.4)

Now, what do all these things have in common? The Psalmist tells us:

For he commanded, and they were created. ⁶He hath also stablished them for ever and ever: He hath made a decree which shall not pass (Ps 148.5-6).

People and things that God has created should praise him.

But this list is not exhaustive, is it? There are no humans on it, or animals of any kind.

Why not them?

Oh, give him time; he’s just getting started.

Now comes another list, what we might call Part 2 of the inventory. It includes

sea creatures (Ps 148.7)

atmospheric phenomena (Ps 148.8)

topography (Ps 148.9a)

trees (Ps 148.9b)

land animals, both wild and domesticated (Ps 148.10a)

reptiles and birds (Ps 148.10b)

humans of every political class (Ps 148.11)

… and of every age and sex (Ps 148.12)

That last verse appears in the hymn “Praise Ye the Triune God”: “Young men and maidens, ye old men and children.”

Those lists include just about everybody and everything, don’t they? At least from an earthly perspective, without the help of Voyager probes and hifalutin space telescopes.

He ends the Psalm with a justification: why should all creation praise the Lord?

¹³Let them praise the name of the Lord: For his name alone is excellent; His glory is above the earth and heaven. ¹⁴He also exalteth the horn of his people, The praise of all his saints; Even of the children of Israel, a people near unto him.

He’s not focusing on just one reason here; he has a litany.

Creation demonstrates the Creator’s uniqueness (Ps 148.13a). The word excellent speaks of altitude—the Creator is “very high,” at the very top of the list. There is no one who holds a close second place.

He is glorious (Ps 148.13b). This is a different Hebrew word from what we saw in the previous post, but it means the same thing: weight, heft, value.

He gives power to his people (Ps 148.14a). The word horn here refers to an animal horn, not so much the musical instrument—though of course ancient peoples did make musical instruments out of animal horns. The animal’s horn speaks of his power in combat.

He holds his people in relationship; they are “near unto him” (Ps 148.14b). He is a God of immanence as well as transcendence. And given the vastness of his Creation, that should strike us as surprising. “What is man, that thou are mindful of him?” (Ps 8.4).

Praise is the least we can render to such a Creator.

There’s a reason why a walk in the woods is good for the soul.

Part 22: Psalms 6 | Part 23: Proverbs | Part 24: Summary

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash