God's Great and Satisfied Outdoors Text: Psalm 104:16-18
Introduction: Nature is Not Your Mother
We live in a generation that is profoundly confused about the natural world. On the one hand, you have the grim materialists, the disciples of Darwin, who tell us that nature is nothing more than a blind, pitiless meat grinder. For them, the world is all "nature, red in tooth and claw," a meaningless cosmic accident, a chaotic struggle for survival where the strong devour the weak and that is the end of the story. There is no author, no purpose, and no plot. It is a tale told by an idiot, signifying nothing.
On the other hand, you have the new pagans, the sentimental pantheists, who want to worship the creation. They speak of "Mother Nature" and see divinity in every stream and grove. For them, nature is a goddess to be placated, a spiritual force to be revered. This is nothing more than the old idolatry of Baal and Asherah, dressed up in modern, green-colored clothes. Both of these views are profoundly wrong, and they are both a flight from the truth. The materialist flees from a personal God by denying any mind behind the matter. The pantheist flees from a transcendent God by dissolving Him into the matter.
Psalm 104 is the biblical corrective. It is a guided tour of the cosmos, not by a blind process, and not by a pantheon of squabbling, immanent deities, but by the personal, transcendent, sovereign Lord of heaven and earth. This psalm teaches us how to look at the world. It is not a meaningless machine, and it is not a goddess to be worshipped. It is a creature, a glorious and intricate artifact, made, sustained, and personally managed by the living God. And in these few verses, we are invited to look closer at the details of His magnificent providence. God is not a distant, absentee landlord. He is the hands-on proprietor of the entire establishment, right down to the rock badgers.
The Text
The trees of Yahweh are satisfied,
The cedars of Lebanon which He planted,
Where the birds build their nests,
The stork’s home is in the fir trees.
The high mountains are for the wild goats;
The cliffs are a refuge for the shephanim.
(Psalm 104:16-18 LSB)
The Lord's Own Trees (v. 16)
We begin with the great trees, and whose they are.
"The trees of Yahweh are satisfied, The cedars of Lebanon which He planted," (Psalm 104:16 LSB)
Notice the possessive right out of the gate. These are not just any trees; they are "the trees of Yahweh." This is the language of ownership. The cedars of Lebanon were renowned in the ancient world for their size, their strength, their fragrance. They were the raw material for palaces and temples. But the psalmist reminds us who holds the deed to this lumber. They belong to God because He is the one "which He planted."
This is a direct refutation of all forms of Deism. God is not the clockmaker who wound up the universe and then walked away to let it run on its own. He did not just create the "laws of nature" and then retire. He is the planter. Every mighty cedar that thrusts its roots deep into the rocky soil of Lebanon is there because God’s own hand put it there. He is personally and continually involved. This establishes the fundamental Creator/creature distinction. The trees are majestic, but they are not divine. They are the handiwork of the one who is.
And what is their condition? They "are satisfied." The Hebrew here can be translated as "full of sap" or "drink their fill." These are not struggling, thirsty trees. They are lush, vibrant, and overflowing with life. God’s provision is not stingy. It is not a bare minimum to get by. His creation, when it is receiving what He provides, is characterized by abundance. The sap runs freely. This is a picture of God's overflowing, generous goodness. He waters the hills, He makes the grass grow, and His own trees are sated. This is the character of our God. He is not a miser. His grace is like the sap in the cedars of Lebanon, abundant and life-giving.
A Purposeful Home (v. 17)
But this abundant provision is not without a purpose. God's world is an interlocking, interdependent economy.
"Where the birds build their nests, The stork’s home is in the fir trees." (Psalm 104:17 LSB)
The satisfaction of the trees becomes the sanctuary for the birds. The strength of the cedars and firs provides a home. This is not an accident. This is not a lucky coincidence for the birds that they happened to find a big tree. This is design. God planted the trees with the birds in mind. He provides the structure, and then He fills it. This is the same pattern we see in Genesis 1: God forms, and then He fills.
The psalmist is directing our attention to the intricate wisdom of God's providence. He does not just dump a pile of resources on the ground. He builds a habitat. He provides a home. The stork, a large migratory bird, has its specific place in the fir trees. God’s care is not generic; it is specific. He knows what a stork needs. He knows what a sparrow needs. As Jesus would later tell us, not one of them falls to the ground apart from our Father's will (Matt. 10:29). This is a world humming with divine purpose. Every creature has its place, and God is the one who has prepared that place for it. This is a world that is cared for, down to the last nest.
A Refuge for the Unlikely (v. 18)
From the mighty trees, the psalmist lifts our eyes higher, to the mountains and cliffs, places that might seem to us desolate or useless.
"The high mountains are for the wild goats; The cliffs are a refuge for the shephanim." (Psalm 104:18 LSB)
The high, rugged peaks are not a cosmic oversight. They are a divinely designed playground and pasture for the wild goats, creatures perfectly equipped for that very environment. God’s creativity is not limited to the gentle and pastoral. He makes a home in the hard places.
But the final detail is the most telling. "The cliffs are a refuge for the shephanim." The shephanim are the rock badgers, or conies. The book of Proverbs tells us they are "a people not mighty, yet they make their homes in the cliffs" (Proverbs 30:26). They are small. They are weak. They are vulnerable. And what has God provided for these weak and helpless creatures? He has provided a refuge. The solid, unyielding rock is their fortress. God builds their safety into the very fabric of the geology. The place that looks barren and dangerous to us is, for the rock badger, the very definition of home and security.
This is the heart of God’s providence. He has a special care for the weak. He provides a refuge for the vulnerable. He looks at a little rock badger, and in His infinite wisdom, He carves out a fortress for it in the side of a mountain. If a materialist looks at this, he sees only erosion and instinct. If a Christian looks at this, he sees the personal, tender, and specific care of a heavenly Father.
The Gospel in the Crags
This psalm is not simply a nature documentary in verse. It is a revelation of the character of God, and it points us directly to the gospel of His Son.
We, like the trees of the Lord, are designed to be "satisfied." But we have sought our life, our sap, from broken cisterns that can hold no water. In Christ, we are planted by the rivers of living water (Psalm 1:3). He is the vine, and we are the branches. Only in Him can our souls be truly satisfied, filled with the sap of the Holy Spirit.
And like the birds and the stork, God does not save us into homelessness. He saves us into a community, a habitat. He plants us in His church, which is to be a home, a place of safety and nurture. He builds His church on the strength of Christ, the mighty cedar, so that we might find our place in His branches.
But most pointedly, we are the shephanim. We are the rock badgers. We are a people not mighty. We are weak, vulnerable, and helpless in the face of our sin and our enemies. And God, in His mercy, has provided a refuge for us. He has provided a rock. "The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge" (Psalm 18:2).
Jesus Christ is the cliff where we make our home. He is the Rock of Ages, cleft for us, where we can hide ourselves. The judgment of God, like a soaring predator, passes over, because we have taken refuge in the rock. God’s provision for the little rock badger was a portrait, painted on the canvas of a mountainside, of His ultimate provision for us. He gave His own Son to be our fortress. The high place of the cross, a place of death and desolation, has become for us the ultimate place of safety.
Therefore, when you look at the world, do not see a meaningless machine or a pagan deity. See the hand of a Father. See the wisdom of a master designer. See the care that provides a nest for the stork and a fortress for the coney. And know that this same God has provided for you, in His Son, a satisfaction, a home, and an eternal refuge.