The Majesty of God and the Mouths of Babes Text: Psalm 8:1-2
Introduction: A Universe That Sings
We are moderns, which means we are accustomed to a silent universe. We have been taught, by a spiritually tone-deaf and rebellious generation, that the heavens declare the glory of quarks and random chance. We are told that the earth is a lonely, insignificant speck in a meaningless cosmic accident. And so, when we look up at the night sky, we are encouraged to feel our own smallness, our own cosmic orphan status. The goal of secularism is to produce a profound sense of cosmic vertigo, to sever man from his Creator and, consequently, from his created purpose.
But the Scriptures will have none of it. The Bible insists that the universe is not silent at all. It is roaring. It is a symphony of praise. Psalm 19 tells us the heavens declare the glory of God. Romans 1 tells us that God’s eternal power and divine nature are clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, leaving men without excuse. And here, in Psalm 8, David tunes our ears to this grand music. This psalm is a frontal assault on the empty, sterile materialism of our age. It does not argue for God’s existence; it marvels at His manifest glory.
This is not a psalm for the proud. It is a psalm designed to produce humility, but not the groveling, worthless humility of the secularist who thinks he is nothing because the universe is big. Rather, it is the astonished humility of a creature who realizes that the infinitely majestic God of this grand universe has stooped to be mindful of him. It is a psalm about the glory of God, the dignity of man in Christ, and the baffling way God has chosen to conduct His wars.
And how does He conduct His wars? Not with the weapons our world understands. He does not establish His strength with the high and mighty, the credentialed experts, or the powerful rulers of the earth. He does it with the gurgles and coos of infants. This is the central paradox of the gospel, and it is stated here with breathtaking clarity. God’s majesty is so profound, so unassailable, that He can defeat His most arrogant enemies with the weakest instruments imaginable. This is a truth that our proud and self-important age desperately needs to hear.
The Text
O Yahweh, our Lord, How majestic is Your name in all the earth, Who displays Your splendor above the heavens!
From the mouth of infants and nursing babies You have established strength Because of Your adversaries, To make the enemy and the revengeful cease.
(Psalm 8:1-2 LSB)
The Name Above All Names (v. 1)
The psalm opens with an explosion of worship, a direct address to God that establishes both His covenant nearness and His transcendent majesty.
"O Yahweh, our Lord, How majestic is Your name in all the earth, Who displays Your splendor above the heavens!" (Psalm 8:1)
Notice the two names for God here. First, "Yahweh." This is the covenant name of God, the name He revealed to Moses at the burning bush. It is His personal name, the name by which He binds Himself to His people. He is not a generic deity or an abstract force; He is the God who makes promises and keeps them. But He is not just our covenant God; He is also "our Lord," Adonai in the Hebrew. This speaks of His sovereign rule, His absolute authority. He is both intimate and infinite. He is our God, and He is our Master. This is the foundation of a healthy spiritual life: to know that the sovereign ruler of all things has drawn near to us in covenant love.
David then exclaims, "How majestic is Your name in all the earth." The "name" of God in Scripture is not a mere label. It is the summation of His character, His reputation, His revealed nature. To say His name is majestic is to say that His character, His very being, is glorious, powerful, and excellent. And where is this majesty displayed? "In all the earth." The whole world is a theater for the glory of God. You cannot look anywhere without seeing the handiwork, the wisdom, and the power of God. The secularist has to put on special ideological glasses to deliberately not see what is blazingly obvious everywhere.
But His glory is not contained by the earth. His splendor is displayed "above the heavens." This is not just poetic hyperbole. It means that as glorious as the created universe is, it is only a dim reflection, a mere whisper, of the uncreated glory of God Himself. The heavens, in all their vastness, cannot contain Him. His glory exceeds His creation. This sets the stage for the rest of the psalm. The God we are dealing with is not a local deity or a tribal god. He is the Lord of heaven and earth, whose personal splendor outshines the sun and stars.
The Arsenal of the Nursery (v. 2)
Having established the infinite majesty of God, David now turns to the shocking method God uses to defend His honor and defeat His enemies.
"From the mouth of infants and nursing babies You have established strength Because of Your adversaries, To make the enemy and the revengeful cease." (Psalm 8:2 LSB)
This is one of the most upside-down verses in all the Bible, which is saying something. God ordains strength, a fortress, a bulwark, not from the mouths of generals, philosophers, or kings, but from the mouths of infants and nursing babies. What comes from the mouth of a baby? Gurgles, cries, simple trust, unformed praise. This is not about the intellectual content of what a baby says. It is about the principle of utter dependence and weakness.
Why does God do this? "Because of Your adversaries." He is in a war. The "enemy and the revengeful" are those who set themselves against God. They are the proud, the arrogant, the self-sufficient, the ones who rage against Him and His Anointed, as Psalm 2 says. And how does God silence them? He doesn't need to unleash lightning bolts. He points to the nursery. The simple, dependent existence of a baby is a profound theological argument against the proud atheist. The jabbering of a child in the back of the sanctuary is God’s ordained refutation of the sophisticated scoffer. The enemy is silenced by the very thing he despises: weakness, dependence, and humility.
We must not miss the New Testament anchor point for this verse. When Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, the children were in the temple shouting, "Hosanna to the Son of David!" The chief priests and scribes, the adversaries of that day, were indignant. They were offended by this undignified display. And what did Jesus say to them? He quoted this very verse: "Have you never read, 'Out of the mouth of infants and nursing babies you have prepared praise'?" (Matthew 21:16). Jesus identifies Himself as the Lord whose majesty is being praised, and He identifies the religious leaders as the enemy being silenced. The praise of children was the established strength that made the revengeful cease their caviling.
This principle is woven throughout Scripture. God chooses the weak things of the world to shame the strong (1 Cor. 1:27). He chooses a shepherd boy with a sling to defeat a giant. He chooses a small, despised nation to be His covenant people. And in the ultimate display of this principle, He chooses the cross. The cross is the ultimate expression of strength through weakness. To the world, it was the shameful execution of a failed messiah. But in the wisdom of God, it was the power of God for salvation, the defeat of the ultimate enemy, Satan himself.
The Gospel in the Mouths of Babes
This psalm is not just about God’s general glory; it is profoundly Christological. The rest of the psalm goes on to speak of man being crowned with glory and honor and given dominion over creation. The author of Hebrews tells us plainly that this finds its ultimate fulfillment in Jesus (Hebrews 2:6-9). Jesus is the true Man, the last Adam, who perfectly images God and through whom humanity is restored to its created purpose.
And how did this glorious King come into the world? He came through the mouth of an infant. The eternal Word, who spoke the galaxies into existence, became a speechless baby in a manger. He took on ultimate weakness. He was born in utter dependence. His first cries in Bethlehem were the beginning of the end for the kingdom of darkness. That baby’s cry was the first note in a war cry that would culminate in the shout, "It is finished!" on the cross.
This is the pattern for us as well. How do we enter the kingdom of God? Not through our strength, our wisdom, or our moral achievements. We must become like little children (Matthew 18:3). We must come with empty hands, with utter dependence, with nothing to offer but our need. Our testimony is not one of self-made strength, but of a strength that is made perfect in our weakness (2 Cor. 12:9). The praise that silences the enemy today is the simple, childlike faith of a sinner who abandons all self-reliance and trusts in Christ alone.
Therefore, do not despise the day of small things. Do not be intimidated by the proud and the arrogant who mock our faith. Our God has chosen the foolish things to shame the wise. He has chosen the weak things to shame the strong. His name is majestic in all the earth, and the proof of that majesty is not found in the corridors of power, but in the simple, dependent faith of His people, a faith that begins with a cry, like a newborn baby, for a Father we desperately need.