The Last Grove Standing in the Mountains of Lebanon

In the mountains above Bsharri, Lebanon, there stands a grove of cedars that the locals call the Cedars of God. Some of these trees are over a thousand years old, their trunks measuring forty feet around, their roots gripping rock that was ancient before Rome was founded.

Every empire that rose to power in the ancient world wanted these trees. The Egyptians sent expeditions to fell them for temple doors. The Phoenicians built entire merchant fleets from their timber. Nebuchadnezzar carved his name into the mountainside to boast that he had harvested them. Empire after empire measured its greatness by its ability to conquer the cedars of Lebanon — the tallest, most majestic trees the ancient world had ever known.

And yet the psalmist David, standing in the courts of worship, declared that the voice of the Almighty breaks the cedars of Lebanon in pieces. The very symbol of imperial strength, the prize that pharaohs and kings spent fortunes to possess, snaps like kindling before the God of glory who thunders over the waters.

Today, only a few hundred of those ancient cedars remain. The empires that harvested them are dust. But the voice that David heard still speaks — still strips forests bare, still shakes the wilderness of Kadesh, still sits enthroned above every flood.

Where the mighty saw raw material for their own glory, the Most High saw kindling. Ascribe to the Lord the glory due His name.