Declaring the Glory

Psalm 19

January 25, 2026 • Mount Pleasant UMC

There is a story told of a little girl—let’s call her Julie—who was very excited about the story of Jonah and the big fish that she had learned in Sunday School, so on Monday she went to school and told the story to her whole class. Her teacher immediately told her that such a story was impossible. It could not happen. Jonah could not live inside the belly of a whale. But Julie stood her ground and insisted it did happen. “I know it happened,” she said, “because it’s in the Bible.” The teacher was just as certain that it did not happen, and kept saying so. Julie, through her tears of frustration, said, “Well, when I get to heaven, I’ll ask Jonah, and he will tell me it did happen.” The teacher smiled and said, “Well, what if Jonah’s not in heaven?” Without missing a beat, Julie said, “Well, then you can ask him” (cf. Groeschel, The Benefit of Doubt, pg. 152).

Ah, yes, that’s the kind of comeback I wish I had in those times when I’ve talked with people who find it hard to believe in some of the stories of the Bible. This morning, we’re wrapping up this very brief series of sermons on questions and doubts, ways people struggle with faith. And while we’ve talked about the purpose of prayer and about God’s apparent absence at some points in our life, today I want to take a different approach. For some people, the stumbling block in having faith is that it seems to be incompatible with science. They want to know: does science contradict the Bible?

Maybe you’ve run into that question. For a lot of people, it might be when they go to college, or even in a high school science class, where they are told that the Bible cannot be true because it doesn’t line up with what we think we “know” from science. Now, I say it that way not to doubt all of the gifts and benefits that scientific discovery has given us. I say it that way because even though we’re told to “follow the science,” a lot of things continue to change. Science is rarely settled; it’s often changing as we learn more and more. Remember the scientific method you learned in school? Make an observation, form a question, come up with a hypothesis, conduct an experiment, analyze the data and draw a conclusion (cf. Groeschel 157). That conclusion may or may not stand, but everything that is done with that method is in the pursuit of knowledge—about the world, about humanity, about the way things work. But, for some, science then becomes almost a religion itself to where they believe that science can do no wrong. If it’s “scientific,” it must be right.

Some people begin to question their faith when they read an article or a book that contradicts what they think about God, or when they watch a YouTube video that “proves” the Bible wrong. Or maybe they’ve posted something spiritual or faith-related on social media and the skeptics pile on, asking questions that they don’t have an answer for (cf. Groeschel 152). In these and many other similar situations, their faith begins to waver, falter or even shrivel up. One of two things usually happens then. Either they give up their faith altogether or they put faith and science in two different categories in their mind and “never the twain shall meet.” Obviously, the Bible is about faith, and science, we are told, is about “real life.” But what if that assumption is wrong? What if there is a “third way”? What if both the Bible and science are meant to point us toward the one who created it all? As Pastor Craig Groeschel puts it, “The God of science is also the God of the Bible. He’s given us both, and each is meant to reveal him to us” (Groeschel 153).

I think a big part of our struggle is that we try to make the Bible something it is not. The Bible does not pretend to be a science book, nor does it claim to tell us in detail how the universe works. It’s also a product of its time, ancient times, when there was much less scientific knowledge than there is now. That is not to say that the Bible is not the Word of God. It is—100 percent. The Holy Spirit inspired these words and they have been faithfully preserved and handed down to us to tell us about and point us toward the God in whose image we are made. It is given to us so that we can learn the truth about the world and our place in it. And that’s why science is no threat to the Bible; all truth comes from God and if science discovers something true about the world, that truth originally came from God whether it is written down in the pages of the Bible or not. The Scriptures remind us that everything we see around us points toward the one who created it. In his letter to the Romans, Paul put it this way: “Since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse” (Romans 1:20). Much earlier in history, the psalmist said the same thing in a more poetic fashion: “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands” (19:1). Or, as contemporary hymn writers Keith & Kristyn Getty put it, “Creation sings the Father’s song.”

There is no real context evident for Psalm 19; it appears to be a general song of praise meant to be used at most any time and it’s written in three parts. Verses 1-6 are all about how God is seen in creation, and then verses 7-9 celebrate how God is seen in the law. The final part, verses 10-13, remind the worshippers that those things—creation and law—can keep us from sin and keep us in relationship with God. Verse 14 is a benediction, one that is often used as a prayer in worship still today: “May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Lord, my Rock and Redeemer.” This morning, we’re going to just focus on the first part, on the ways God is seen in creation.

In singing these first six verses, the psalmist is not just talking about his time, or one day when he was out on the hillside and noticed the beauty of the world. He’s not even just talking about the moment of creation, when God made it all. No, the Hebrew text here is written in a way that refers to something ongoing. In other words, the psalmist says that the creation “keeps on declaring…[and] keeps on proclaiming” (cf. VanGemeren, “Psalms,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, Vol. 5, pg. 179). Over and over and over again. Creation doesn’t just point toward God’s glory once; it is a living, breathing testimony about the work of God’s hands. The beginning of this psalm is a “continual outcry of nature to God from the moment of creation until now and on into the future” (NIV Application Commentary: One-Volume Edition, pg. 432). So when you see a sunrise that takes your breath away, or when you gaze upon the beauty of a mountain lake, or you take a moment to notice the flowers that will eventually be popping up in our gardens—those things aren’t just beautiful for their own sake. They reflect the one who created them. The psalmist says the beauty of creation is meant to point us toward the beauty of the creator.

The psalmist goes on to assert that the heavens and the skies speak every day about God and “reveal knowledge” to us (19:2). Now, it’s obvious the psalmist is using a metaphor here; he says as much in verse 3. The skies have no voice. The heavens can’t speak. And yet, he says, their voice goes out. Those who are listening can “hear” what creation is singing and saying. Look at the sun, he says (19:4b-6). Look at how it rises and sets. That’s just one example of how the world is made beautiful and works in just the right way for us to live here (cf. NIV Application 432). And what is true about the sun is true about all of creation. We’ve discovered that in the years since this psalm was written. Science has discovered it. We know now that the earth’s axis is tilted at 23.5 degrees and if it were off by the slightest amount, we would have no seasons, the sunlight would not be distributed across the earth correctly and human life would not thrive. If the temperature range were different, human life could not exist, and honestly we’ve been wondering about that anyway with the brutally cold weather this week! If the atmosphere was different from its 78% nitrogen and 21% oxygen, we could not breathe. We could go on, but science has confirmed what the psalmist was saying: “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the world of his hands” (19:1). He created just the right world for us to be able to live here. God and science are not incompatible; science reveals the truth of God’s word and world.

But there’s a problem. Two, really. Two places where we stumble or outright get it wrong. The first is the problem Paul was leading up to in that passage from his Romans letter. Paul says that some people, in their desire to escape from God, see his glory in creation but deny it. They begin to worship other things—because we all worship something. We were made to worship and if we don’t worship God then we will worship something else. Paul says in Rome, people were worshipping idols and false gods, birds and animals and reptiles. He writes, “They exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator…” (Romans 1:25). He goes on to say, then, that God doesn’t force his way in. God’s message, his image is all around every one of us, in creation and in each other, but if people don’t want to see it or acknowledge it, he will allow them to walk away. Paul says God “gives them over” to worship whatever they want to worship (1:26), and the three great things we tend to worship today, as author Richard Foster put it many years ago, are money, sex and power. Look around and tell me if that isn’t still true today, even in the church. When I read the stories of churches that collapse or pastors who fall, it is always over one of those three things: money, sex or power. We have traded the worship of the invisible creator of the universe for worship of the creation. We’ve ended up “admiring and trusting in the creation rather than the creator” (Goldingay, Psalms for Everyone, Part 1, pg. 63).

The other problem comes when the church and Christians are unwilling to admit that we just might have it wrong, that we might have misunderstood something that is written in the Bible. For instance, Psalm 104 says, “He set the earth on its foundations; it can never be moved” (104:5). Out of that one verse, the medieval church believed and taught that the earth was the center of the universe, that the sun rotated around the earth and so did everything else. Then along comes a scientist named Galileo and he discovered in his work that the night sky would not look the way it did if the earth were the center of the universe. It would not change, for instance, as we know it does, from season to season. And so Galileo asked for a dialogue between scientists and theologians, but the church said no. It stubbornly maintained that the earth is the center of the universe, tried Galileo for heresy, found him guilty and put him under house arrest for the remainder of his life (cf. Groeschel 154-155). We know now, of course, that Galileo was right. The earth is not the center of the universe and that verse, in context, is a metaphorical description of creation. It’s affirming that God created, not trying to tell us how God created or what the shape of creation was. 

Unlike that medieval church, we don’t have to fear science. There is nothing that scientists are going to discover that contradicts the Bible, although there maybe things discovered that contradict our current understanding of Scripture or of certain passages. We would do well to adopt the mindset of our founder, John Wesley, who taught that of those things that strike at the heart of our faith, we do not compromise. But as for other things, we “think and let think” (Jackson, ed., The Works of John Wesley, Third Edition, Vol. VIII, pg. 340). And maybe even change our minds from time to time.

Dr. Francis Collins is, quite simply, one of the most brilliant men of our time. He was the lead scientist on the Human Genome Project, mapping the beautiful make-up of the human body. He also served as director of the National Institutes of Health under three presidents. Early in his life, he was a firm atheist. He didn’t believe science and faith could merge, and he avoided Christians while in college because he thought they were weird. In his third year of medical school, he found himself at the bedsides of terminally ill patients, many of whom were suffering greatly. He couldn’t understand how so many of them had peace, even in the midst of their pain. Why weren’t they angry with this God they said they believed in? Why weren’t they denying their faith? It made no sense to this scientist.

One elderly lady had a cardiac issue that resulted in excruciating chest pain. There was no relief, no answers, and every time the pain hit, the woman would pray and when it was past she would be at peace. Day after day, Collins watched this, and one day the woman said to him, “Doctor, I’ve shared my faith with you, and you seem to be somebody who cares for me. What do you believe?” No one had ever asked him that question, certainly not from the place of pain that this woman was in. He had no answer, and he said so. He really didn’t know what he believed, if anything. Her question started him on a journey. He examined all of the world’s religions and read a book by C. S. Lewis that many of you may be familiar with: Mere Christianity. One day, while hiking in the mountains, Collins was thinking about all he had learned, and in a moment of overwhelming clarity, he fell to his knees and said, “Jesus, I get it. I’m yours. I want to be your follower from now until eternity.” Dr. Francis Collins, the man who helped unlock the secrets of the human person, brilliant scientist, became a believer. “Science had given him answers, but it didn’t give him the answer” (Groeschel 163-164). It didn’t give him peace. “The heavens declare the glory of God: the skies proclaim the work of his hands” (19:1). Still today.

So people are asking: does science contradict the Bible? I hope you’ve heard me give a resounding “no” to that question this morning. We can be people of faith and people of science all at the same time. Both of them can and will point us toward God. Even Jesus pointed to creation as a witness of God’s care for all of us. He often used metaphors and stories from the world around him, but I’m thinking in particular of the way he talks about worry in the famous Sermon on the Mount. “Why do you worry about clothes?” he asks those gathered. “See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?” (Matthew 6:28-30). Science can tell us how the flowers grow and why they are the color they are and what soil they need to grow in and how tall they will likely get. But only faith can tell us who made the flowers—and the grass and the trees and the sun and you and me. God made it all. He is the Lord of it all. He is the one whose praises science sings.

“Let everything that has breath praise the Lord” (Psalm 150:6). Amen.