525_The righteous flourish like a cedar in Lebanon

Psalm 92 It is good to give thanks to the Lord,
to sing praises to your name, O Most High;
2 to declare your steadfast love in the morning,
and your faithfulness by night,
3 to the music of the lute and the harp,
to the melody of the lyre.
4 For you, O Lord, have made me glad by your work;
at the works of your hands I sing for joy.

5 How great are your works, O Lord!
Your thoughts are very deep!
6 The stupid man cannot know;
the fool cannot understand this:
7 that though the wicked sprout like grass
and all evildoers flourish,
they are doomed to destruction forever;
8 but you, O Lord, are on high forever.
9 For behold, your enemies, O Lord,
for behold, your enemies shall perish;
all evildoers shall be scattered.

10 But you have exalted my horn like that of the wild ox;
you have poured over me fresh oil.
11 My eyes have seen the downfall of my enemies;
my ears have heard the doom of my evil assailants.

12 The righteous flourish like the palm tree
and grow like a cedar in Lebanon.
13 They are planted in the house of the Lord;
they flourish in the courts of our God.
14 They still bear fruit in old age;
they are ever full of sap and green,
15 to declare that the Lord is upright;
he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him.

There was a traveler who visited the forests of Lebanon many years ago. He had read about the mighty cedars of the Bible, but he wasn’t prepared for what he saw. Standing before him were towering trees that seemed to touch the heavens, some over a hundred feet tall, with trunks so wide that several men joining hands could barely encircle them. Their fragrance filled the air, their branches spread like arms of strength, and their roots clung firmly to the rocky mountainside, weathering storms that would have destroyed lesser trees. The guide told him that some of those cedars had been alive for more than a thousand years, standing tall and green through countless seasons of change. The traveler later wrote, “It was as if the trees themselves were preaching to me about endurance, strength, and a life firmly rooted in God.”

That image of the cedar tree comes alive in Psalm 92, a psalm written specifically as “a song for the Sabbath.” The people of Israel would sing this on their day of rest, not as a duty, but as a delight. Sabbath was not meant to be a burden; it was meant to be a time of corporate worship, a time to lay aside the week’s labors and remember the goodness of God together. And the psalm begins with a call to gratitude: “It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to sing praises to your name, O Most High.” The most fitting thing we can do when we gather before God is to give thanks—to recount His goodness, His faithfulness, His steadfast love.

The Hebrew word used here, hesed, is rich and layered. It speaks of loyal love, the kind of covenant love that binds God to His people. It is the same word often used to describe the faithful love within a marriage—a love that is not fickle, not here today and gone tomorrow, but steady, committed, enduring. The psalmist does not just speak of this love; he sets it to music. Music is the language of the heart, and when we sing of God’s faithfulness, it becomes a melody rising from deep within our souls.

The psalmist tells us why he sings: “For you, O Lord, have made me glad by your work; at the works of your hands I sing for joy.” Worship is not empty ritual; it springs from remembering what God has done. The Sabbath was meant to be that weekly reminder—look back at the works of God and rejoice. In Isaiah 58, God says that those who call the Sabbath a delight, those who turn from their own ways to honor Him, will “take delight in the Lord” and be lifted up to walk on the heights of the earth. The Sabbath was God’s gracious gift to reorient His people’s hearts, to teach them to rejoice in Him rather than run endlessly after their own pleasures.

But then the psalmist makes a striking contrast. He says the fool cannot understand the works of God. They may see the external, but they miss the deeper reality. They cannot perceive the thoughts of God behind His actions. Isaiah 55 reminds us, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways… as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways.” For the righteous, thinking God’s thoughts after Him becomes their occupation and delight. As the psalmist says elsewhere, “How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them.”

Psalm 92 then takes us into the destiny of the wicked and the righteous. The wicked, the psalmist says, are like grass. Grass sprouts quickly and looks green for a moment, but soon withers under the scorching sun. It is temporary, fragile, fleeting. In Psalm 1, the wicked are compared to chaff that the wind blows away—weightless, rootless, without permanence. They may rise for a season, their lives may sparkle with glamour and success, but it is built on slippery ground. The psalmist testifies from his own life: “My eyes have seen the downfall of my enemies.”

But then he turns to describe the life of the righteous. Here the language shifts from grass to trees, and not just any trees—palm trees and cedars. “The righteous flourish like the palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon.” What a vivid contrast! Palms and cedars are not seasonal plants; they are enduring symbols of vitality, fruitfulness, and strength.

The palm thrives in desert places where little else grows. Its roots reach deep to find water, and it bears fruit even in dry conditions. The cedar, by contrast, grows high in the cold mountains of Lebanon. It is evergreen, its wood resistant to decay, its fragrance enduring for generations. Together, the palm and the cedar tell us that the righteous are not fragile or fleeting. Whether in times of drought or in harsh conditions, whether in youth or in old age, they continue to bear fruit and remain strong. Their secret? They are planted in the house of the Lord. Their life is rooted in Him. He Himself is their gardener, watering, pruning, and sustaining them.

And then the psalmist adds a personal note: “You have exalted my horn like that of the wild ox; you have poured over me fresh oil.” The horn here symbolizes strength, and the wild ox was one of the strongest animals known in the ancient world. The psalmist says his strength comes not from himself but from the Lord’s anointing—from fresh oil poured over him, a symbol of God’s Spirit at work. This is not stale religion, not yesterday’s blessing, but a fresh outpouring from God that renews and empowers His people.

The psalm ends by pointing us back to the Lord Himself: “To declare that the Lord is upright; he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him.” The foundation of the righteous life is not our own integrity, but God’s. He is upright. He is our rock. He is unchanging, steadfast, righteous in all His ways. Because of this, we can trust Him fully.

The image of the cedar brings this truth home. A cedar tree can withstand centuries of storms, not because the storms are weak, but because its roots go deep and its core is strong. Likewise, the righteous flourish not because life is easy, but because they are planted in God. They cling to Him as their rock, and His life flows through them.

And here lies the practical call for us today. Where are we planted? If our lives are rooted in shallow soil—if we are chasing temporary pleasures, if we are swayed by the glamour of the wicked, if our identity depends on fleeting success—we will be like grass, here today and gone tomorrow. But if we are planted in the house of the Lord, if we anchor ourselves in His Word, if we delight in His presence, we will be like the palm and the cedar—bearing fruit even in dry seasons, flourishing even in old age, standing strong when storms rage.

For some of us, this may mean rethinking how we approach worship. Do we see it as a duty, a weekly checkbox, or as a delight—an opportunity to thank God, to remember His works, to realign our hearts with His? For others, it may mean trusting God when life feels like a desert. Like the palm tree, we may be in a dry season, but God has planted us to bear fruit even there. And for those who feel weary with age or weakened by trials, take courage: the cedar reminds us that even in old age the righteous remain green and full of sap, still declaring that the Lord is upright.

The psalmist leaves us with one enduring truth: the righteous flourish because they are rooted in God. And so the call to us is simple yet profound—cling to Him as your rock, abide in Him as your source, delight in Him as your joy. Then, when the world looks at your life, they will see not fleeting grass, but a towering cedar, a fruitful palm, and they will know that it is the Lord who has done it. God bless.