He heals the brokenhearted
and bandages their wounds.
 He counts the stars
and calls them all by name.
 How great is our Lord! His power is absolute!
His understanding is beyond comprehension!
The God who is so personal that He heals our broken heart and bandages our wounds (v. 3) is the same God who keeps an accounting of the heavenly bodies far above us and has established stellar nomenclature (v. 4). And then, in verse 5, a succinct and apt summary: How great is our Lord!
In my mind I try to travel that distance—from the broken heart to the farthest star. And then back. I cannot grasp that greatness. The God to whom I address my repetitive prayers for a smooth delivery for my wife and a healthy firstborn, my request for a parking space in a packed hospital, my wish for encouragement to come my way on a particularly dreary work day—He is the same God who choreographs the dance of the galaxies, sustains life on a small ball of a planet called Earth, powers and directs all the forces of nature and beyond…
Words fail me, as they should.
What ought to be my response? The psalmist helps me with this by declaring that God is great—He has absolute power and incomprehensible understanding. The psalmist worships.
Worship, I submit, is an exercise in measurement. In worship, we employ all that we have—our senses, our encounter with Scriptures, our experiences, our voices, our creative powers, our words, our thoughts, our feelings, our mind, our body—as measuring tape. We attempt to wrap this “tape” around God, only to realize that He cannot be fully measured! Not even close. Interestingly, this does not frustrate us. It comforts us. It reminds us that God is big enough to handle anything we throw at Him. That nothing we can build or break can threaten or disorient Him. That we, notwithstanding our many attempts at being large, are truly—thankfully—small. And in that smallness is a miracle unparalleled: we are loved.
Worship sobers us up. God is big and therefore terrifying. As Mr Beaver explained to Susan in C.S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia, the lion Aslan, the God personification in the story, is good but not safe.
Surely the God who wields the absolute power that runs the universe in which I am a minuscule, pulsating dot is terrifying. Surely the God who knows my pain and administers healing to me is tender. Surely He deserves my worship.