Who am I–so very small, weak, and shortsighted–that he would even notice me?
Great is our Lord, and abundant in power;
his understanding is beyond measure. (Psa 147:5)
Why should he care about me?
He determines the number of the stars;
he gives to all of them their names. (Psa 147:4)
What meaningful thing could I possibly offer him?
He covers the heavens with clouds;
he prepares rain for the earth;
he makes grass grow on the hills. (Psa 147:8)
What could I ever do that would appear as even the tiniest blip on heaven’s radar?
He gives snow like wool;
he scatters frost like ashes.
He hurls down his crystals of ice like crumbs;
who can stand before his cold?
He sends out his word, and melts them;
he makes his wind blow and the waters flow. (Psa 147:16-18)
To be known by him? Remarkable. To be forgiven by him? Amazing. To be granted the opportunity to serve him for a lifetime? Incredible. Undeserved. Grace.
But to be a source of delight to him? What king delights in a doorkeeper? To somehow bring joy to his measureless heart? I’m guessing most of us would find that hard to imagine, so let’s just listen together to the way the Lord of the universe is described in Psalm 147:10-11:
His delight is not in the strength of the horse,
nor his pleasure in the legs of a man,
but the LORD takes pleasure in those who fear him,
in those who hope in his steadfast love.
Who are you that he would even notice you? What registers as more than a blip on heaven’s radar? Not your looks or the number of your followers or your net worth. The namer of the stars isn’t awed by your accomplishments or accolades. He needs absolutely, positively not one thing from you.
And yet, he takes pleasure in those who fear him. He delights in those who joyfully hope in his steadfast love. “Who like me Thy praise should sing, O Almighty King?” Just a lowly, humble hoper, desperately dependent on his loyal love. And that’s enough. More than enough, it’s what sparks joy in heaven’s throne room.
Praise the LORD!
For it is good to sing praises to our God;
for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting. (Psa 147:1)