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Today's reading
December 12, 2025
Psalm 96:11-13; Isaiah 11:4-5; Acts 17:31
You could say that David’s rise to power was unorthodox.
As a teenage boy, he was plucked from the fields by Samuel and elevated above his brothers as a king in waiting. He was given tremendous proximity to the royal family through his skill with the harp and his battle prowess, which enmeshed him in the royal court—and into a deep friendship with the Prince of Israel. His trajectory was undeniable.
This inevitable kismet did not go unnoticed by King Saul. As the king’s volatility reached a fever pitch, David found himself on the run, waiting for God’s promise on his life to be fulfilled. Waiting for God’s justice to judge Saul’s disobedience.
David spent thirteen years living in this tension, growing from a young man into a seasoned leader. Finally, Saul passed away, and David returned to Jerusalem as the king the nation had been waiting for. He quickly defended Israel from her enemies, then set about establishing a dwelling place for the Ark of the Covenant.
This strange box—filled with artifacts from Israel’s history—also contained the very presence of God for
His people.
David’s son would eventually build a temple whose ornate splendor symbolized the glory of God. But for now, David built a tabernacle.
A tent—humble, temporary, trembling in the wind—
became the resting place for the Ark of the Covenant,
the symbol of God’s presence on earth.
The shabbiness of the covering was drowned out by the excitement of the people. Israel crowded into Jerusalem that day; the air seemed to pulse with anticipation. King Saul had largely ignored the Ark—circumventing its authority and guidance. But now David brought it front and center into the community of Israel.
Trumpets blared. Cymbals crashed.
David danced until exhaustion made him collapse in laughter.
The song they sang that day was captured in 1 Chronicles 16
and later shaped into the psalm we know as Psalm 96.
It is a song of glory, of power, of invitation.
But then something unexpected happens.
The camera pans out.
The stage widens.
The congregation of Israel is no longer the only choir.
Suddenly—
the skies sing out,
the seas begin roaring,
the fields shout for joy,
and the trees clap their hands.
They sing:
“Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad;
Let the sea roar, and all its fullness;
Let the field be joyful, and all that is in it.
Then all the trees of the woods will rejoice before the LORD.
For He is coming—for He is coming to judge the earth.
He shall judge the world with righteousness
And the peoples with His truth.”
Psalm 96:11–13 (NKJV)
Nature is not quivering in fear at the anticipation of God’s wrath.
It is erupting in joy.
Why?
Because God is drawing near—and with Him comes liberty and justice for all.
The Ark’s arrival showed Israel a small picture of that truth. And the justice David longed for, sang for, and celebrated in Jerusalem was only a shadow of the justice the true King would bring.
But the incarnation was when the wheels of justice really began to turn.
Isaiah foresaw this moment prophesying—
a child with the government on His shoulders,
a branch from Jesse’s stump,
Heaven’s perfect Judge wrapped in human skin.
He goes on to say:
“With righteousness He shall judge the poor,
And decide with equity for the meek of the earth…
Righteousness shall be the belt of His loins.”
Isaiah 11:4–5
The child in Bethlehem’s manger defended widows, lifted the oppressed, liberated the possessed, fed the hungry, exposed counterfeit kingdoms, and confronted the spiritual bureaucracy that rewarded hypocrisy.
The arrival of Jesus was the beginning of the end of evil.
As Paul preached in Athens:
“He has appointed a day on which He will judge the world in righteousness
by the Man whom He has ordained.”
Acts 17:31 (NKJV)
Creation knows that that man is Jesus, and it sings its truth.
It groans under injustice,
but it grins at the thought of its Judge.
The seas roar not in protest, but in applause.
The forests sway not in terror, but in welcome.
Nature rejoices because it trusts its Creator
to deal with sin fully, finally, and forever.
It knows the justice of God
will always defend the small,
lift the broken,
and crush the wicked.
In a world where the vulnerable are often ignored,
where evil seems untouchable,
and righteousness feels impossible—
Psalm 96 is a battle cry of hope.
A banner staked in eternity that cries out:
The Judge is coming. His justice will roll down like waters, and ebb like an ever-flowing stream. It cannot be delayed; it will not be distorted and it cannot be denied.
Nature invites us to join its chorus
As we sing:
God has come near.
True Justice is on the move.
Evil will flee before the Lion of Judah laying in the manger.