God's Voiceless Sermon Text: Psalm 19:1-6
Introduction: The Two Books
God has not left Himself without a witness. He is a speaking God, a revealing God, and He has given us two great books by which we may know Him. This psalm, Psalm 19, is structured around those two books. The first is the book of creation, what theologians call general revelation, and this is what we have in our text this morning, verses 1 through 6. The second is the book of Scripture, what we call special revelation, which the psalmist turns to in verse 7. You can know certain things about God by looking up at the stars. You can know other, more glorious things by looking down at His Word.
But we must not make the mistake of thinking the first book is optional. Our secular, materialist age is engaged in a massive, concerted effort to pretend that the first book is blank, or that it wrote itself. They stare into the vast, ordered complexity of the cosmos and declare that it is all a brute, meaningless fact. They listen to the constant sermon of the heavens and insist they hear nothing but the static of the void. This is not an intellectual conclusion; it is a moral rebellion. It is a desperate attempt to plug their ears against a shout. As Paul says in Romans, what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. They are without excuse. They are suppressing the truth in unrighteousness.
So, this psalm begins by reminding us that creation is not mute. It is a preacher. It is a herald. It is a witness, testifying day and night, in every language, to every person on the planet. And its central message is the glory of God. Before we can appreciate the specific grace revealed in the pages of Scripture, we must first learn to hear the glorious sermon being preached from the pulpit of the sky.
The Text
The heavens are telling of the glory of God; And the expanse is declaring the work of His hands.
Day to day pours forth speech, And night to night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there words; Their voice is not heard.
Their line has gone out through all the earth, And their utterances to the end of the world. In them He has placed a tent for the sun,
Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber; It rejoices as a strong man to run his course.
Its rising is from one end of the heavens, And its circuit to the other end of them; And there is nothing hidden from its heat.
(Psalm 19:1-6 LSB)
The Cosmic Proclamation (vv. 1-2)
David begins with the grand, sweeping declaration that the universe is God's handiwork, and it speaks of its maker.
"The heavens are telling of the glory of God; And the expanse is declaring the work of His hands. Day to day pours forth speech, And night to night reveals knowledge." (Psalm 19:1-2)
The verbs here are active and continuous. The heavens are "telling," the expanse is "declaring." This is not a one-time statement made at the dawn of creation. This is an ongoing, perpetual sermon. Every sunrise, every starry night, every cloud formation is a fresh declaration. And what is the content of this sermon? It is the "glory of God." Creation doesn't just point to a generic, intelligent designer. It points to His glory, His weight, His majesty, His character. The sheer scale of the universe, its intricate order, its violent power, and its delicate beauty all speak volumes about the kind of God who made it.
This proclamation is ceaseless. "Day to day pours forth speech." The word for "pours forth" is like a gushing spring, an overflowing fountain of testimony. The day shouts of God's faithfulness, His power, His light. Then the day shift ends and the night shift begins. "Night to night reveals knowledge." The night sky, with its billions of galaxies, reveals His immensity, His transcendence, His infinite wisdom. The day and night are like two choirs, singing antiphonally, never missing a beat. There is no moment in which God's glory is not being proclaimed by the world He has made.
The Voiceless Voice (vv. 3-4a)
Next, David presents us with a striking paradox. This global, constant sermon is utterly silent.
"There is no speech, nor are there words; Their voice is not heard. Their line has gone out through all the earth, And their utterances to the end of the world." (Psalm 19:3-4a LSB)
How can something pour forth speech if there are no words? How can its utterances go to the end of the world if its voice is not heard? This is the genius of general revelation. It is a pre-verbal communication. It bypasses the confusion of Babel. A man in Tokyo and a man in the Amazon rainforest cannot speak to one another, but the stars can speak to both of them in a language they both intuitively understand. It is a communication that is not mediated through sound waves hitting the eardrum, but one that is imprinted directly onto the soul, onto what Calvin called the sensus divinitatis, the sense of the divine that God has hardwired into every human being.
This is a silent shout. It is an inaudible thunder. And its reach is universal. "Their line has gone out through all the earth." The word "line" can mean a measuring line, speaking of design and order, or it can mean a cord, as in a musical string, vibrating with this silent message. The apostle Paul picks up this very verse in Romans 10, applying it to the universal witness that leaves all men without excuse. No one can stand before God on the last day and say, "I never knew." The broadcast signal of God's glory covers the entire planet. To not worship Him is not a matter of ignorance, but of willful suppression.
The Star Preacher (vv. 4b-6)
Having described the general sermon of the heavens, David now focuses on the chief preacher in that cosmic cathedral: the sun.
"In them He has placed a tent for the sun, Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber; It rejoices as a strong man to run his course. Its rising is from one end of the heavens, And its circuit to the other end of them; And there is nothing hidden from its heat." (Psalm 19:4b-6 LSB)
Notice the polemical jab here. The pagan nations all around Israel worshipped the sun. The sun was a deity. But David says that God sets up a "tent" for the sun. The sun is not a god; it is a creature. It is a servant who lives in a house that God built for it. God is the sovereign, and the sun is His magnificent slave.
And David gives us two glorious metaphors for this preacher. First, the sun is "as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber." The sunrise is a daily wedding procession. It is a picture of joy, new life, splendor, and covenantal faithfulness. The bridegroom emerges in all his glory, ready to meet his bride. This is a picture that points us directly to Christ, the true Bridegroom of the Church, the one who brings light and life to His people.
Second, the sun "rejoices as a strong man to run his course." This is a picture of exuberant, inexhaustible strength. The sun does not drag itself across the sky reluctantly. It runs its race with joy and vigor. It is a daily display of glorious, masculine energy, a model of faithful, powerful service. It runs its circuit from one end of the heavens to the other, and its influence is inescapable. "There is nothing hidden from its heat."
This is a metaphor for the pervasive, inescapable knowledge of God that general revelation provides. You might be able to hide from the sun's light in a cave, but you cannot escape its heat. The influence of the Creator permeates every corner of the creation. You cannot get away from God. His presence and His power are as inescapable as the warmth of the sun. This revelation touches everything, warms everything, and reveals everything.
Conclusion: From the Sun to the Son
This sermon of the heavens is magnificent. It is constant, universal, and undeniable. It is enough to make every man accountable to God. It is enough to condemn every idolater and every atheist, because they have rejected the plainest of truths. To look at the glory of the sun and not worship the one who made it is the height of folly.
But this sermon, as glorious as it is, cannot save you. General revelation can act like a law. It can show you God's power and majesty, and it can show you that you have fallen short of that glory. It can diagnose the disease of your sin, but it cannot provide the cure. It can tell you that there is a glorious God, but it cannot tell you His name. It cannot tell you of His grace.
For that, you must turn from the book of creation to the book of Scripture, which is exactly what David does in the second half of this psalm. The heavens declare the glory of God, but the law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul. The sun is like a bridegroom, but only the Word can introduce you to the true Bridegroom, the Lord Jesus Christ.
The sun in the sky is a magnificent preacher, but he is only an opening act. He is John the Baptist, pointing to one who is greater. The sermon of creation is designed to make you look for the Creator. The sermon of the sun is designed to make you look for the Son. Do not just admire the signpost. Read it, and go down the road to which it points. That road leads to the cross and the empty tomb, where the Sun of Righteousness has risen with healing in His wings.