Psalm 147 pairs two lines that should not fit together and gloriously do: He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name, and, one verse earlier, He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

The God running the galaxies does wound care. Today's kings rise and fall in a dizzying blur; His steady hands do not. Bring Him the broken places.

Israel's politics in these chapters is pure vertigo, six kings, four assassinations, an empire looming, and behind it all one steady line: the LORD had seen their bitter suffering. Even in judgment's approach, His eye stays on the wounded. Star-counting and heart-binding are the same Person's daily work.

Ephesus shows what His healing costs and creates: real repentance burned a fortune in dark books, and the freed city shook the idol economy. Some healings require bonfires, habits, media, grudges fed for years. Bring Him the broken place tonight, and bring the fuel that has been keeping it broken. He binds wounds all the way down.