The Cartographer Who Reached the Edge of the Map

In 1507, German cartographer Martin Waldseemüller spread a massive woodcut across his workshop table in Saint-Dié-des-Vosges, France. He was attempting something audacious — a complete map of the known world. Twelve printed panels, pieced together, spanning eight feet wide. He labored for years, compiling reports from explorers, measuring coastlines, sketching continents no European had seen a generation earlier. When he finally stepped back from his finished work, he realized something that buckled his ambition: the blank spaces dwarfed everything he had drawn. The oceans ran off the edges. Entire continents hid beyond his margins. His greatest achievement only proved how much remained beyond his comprehension.

David experienced something similar in his prayer before the Lord. He had been a shepherd, a fugitive, a warrior, and now a king. He had seen God's hand in every chapter — the lion, the giant, the cave, the throne. Yet when God unveiled the covenant promise of an eternal dynasty, David did not stand taller. He sat down before the Almighty and whispered, "How great You are, Sovereign Lord! There is no one like You, and there is no God but You."

Every experience of God's faithfulness is like another panel on that map — real, detailed, trustworthy. But each revelation only expands the blank space beyond. The more we know of God, the more we discover there is no one like Him.