Psalms 147:1-20: a reflection

1Praise the LORD, for it is good to sing praises to our God; for it is pleasant and fitting to praise him. 2The LORD builds up Jerusalem. He gathers together the outcasts of Israel. 3He heals the broken in heart, and binds up their wounds. 4He counts the number of the stars. He calls them all by their names. 5Great is our Lord, and mighty in power. His understanding is infinite. 6The LORD upholds the humble. He brings the wicked down to the ground. 7Sing to the LORD with thanksgiving. Sing praises on the harp to our God, 8who covers the sky with clouds, who prepares rain for the earth, who makes grass grow on the mountains. 9He provides food for the livestock, and for the young ravens when they call. 10He doesn’t delight in the strength of the horse. He takes no pleasure in the legs of a man. 11The LORD takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in his loving kindness. 12Praise the LORD, Jerusalem! Praise your God, Zion! 13For he has strengthened the bars of your gates. He has blessed your children within you. 14He makes peace in your borders. He fills you with the finest of the wheat. 15He sends out his commandment to the earth. His word runs very swiftly. 16He gives snow like wool, and scatters frost like ashes. 17He hurls down his hail like pebbles. Who can stand before his cold? 18He sends out his word, and melts them. He causes his wind to blow, and the waters flow. 19He shows his word to Jacob, his statutes and his ordinances to Israel. 20He has not done this for just any nation. They don’t know his ordinances. Praise the LORD!

Psalm 147 praises God for who he is, and it sets side by side two things we might not expect to find together. He heals the brokenhearted, it says, and binds up their wounds. And in the very next breath: He counts the number of the stars; he calls them all by their names. The God who numbers and names the countless stars is the same God who tends the broken heart; his infinite greatness and his tender, personal care stand together.

Notice the pairing the psalm makes. We might imagine that a God great enough to count and name the stars would be too vast to concern himself with our small broken hearts; or that a God tender enough to bind up our wounds could not be the one who governs the heavens. But the psalm holds both together: the God of the stars stoops to heal the brokenhearted. His greatness does not make him distant; his tenderness does not make him small. He is great enough to number the stars and tender enough to bind your wounds.

That is a comfort for the broken heart. When you are brokenhearted, wounded, crushed, you might think God too great and busy with the vast affairs of the universe to attend to your small sorrow. But the same God who counts the stars and calls them by name heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds; and, the psalm adds, he delights not in strength but in those who hope in his love. Bring your broken heart to this God, who is great enough to number the stars and tender enough to bind your wounds. He is not too great to care for your sorrow; the God of the stars stoops to heal the brokenhearted. Take your wounds to him, and let the God of infinite greatness tend your heart.

Lord, Psalm 147 sets two things side by side: that you heal the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds, and that you count the number of the stars and call them all by name; your infinite greatness and your tender, personal care stand together. Comfort me with that pairing. I might imagine that a God great enough to count and name the stars would be too vast to concern himself with my small broken heart; but you hold both together: the God of the stars stoops to heal the brokenhearted. Your greatness does not make you distant; your tenderness does not make you small. When I am brokenhearted, wounded, crushed, and think you too great and busy to attend to my small sorrow, remind me that the same God who counts the stars heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds, and delights not in strength but in those who hope in your love. Help me bring my broken heart to you, who are great enough to number the stars and tender enough to bind my wounds. You are not too great to care for my sorrow; I take my wounds to you.