July-21-0472-The God who doesn’t walk away
472_The God who doesn’t walk away Psalm 38 O Lord, rebuke me not in your anger, nor discipline me in your wrath! 2 For your arrows have sunk into me, and your hand has come down on me. 3 There is no soundness in my flesh because of your indignation; there is no health in my bones because of my sin. 4 For my iniquities have gone over my head; like a heavy burden, they are too heavy for me. 5 My wounds stink and fester because of my foolishness, 6 I am utterly bowed down and prostrate; all the day I go about mourning. 7 For my sides are filled with burning, and there is no soundness in my flesh. 8 I am feeble and crushed; I groan because of the tumult of my heart. 9 O Lord, all my longing is before you; my sighing is not hidden from you. 10 My heart throbs; my strength fails me, and the light of my eyes—it also has gone from me. There’s a story told of a little boy who broke his mother’s favorite vase by accident. Fear gripped him, for he knew how precious it was to her. For a long time he sat in the corner of his room, trying to find an excuse, afraid to face her. Finally, unable to bear the guilt, he walked slowly into the kitchen, tears in his eyes, holding one of the broken pieces in his hand. But when his mother saw him, she bent down and held him close, saying, “I was waiting for you to come.” All too often, we do the same with God. When guilt and shame cloud our minds, our instinct is to run, to hide. And yet, the very one we are afraid of is the one who loves us most, the one who is waiting for us, not to condemn, but to restore. Psalm 38 expresses this beautifully. It is the cry of a guilty soul who nonetheless has confidence in God as the sole and sufficient refuge for the sinner. Psalm 38 is introduced as “A Psalm of David, for the memorial offering.” It belongs to the group of penitential psalms, arising from deep sorrow over sin—Psalm 6, 32, 51, 102, 130, and 143 among them. David doesn't mask his brokenness. His words express the pain of being crushed, not just by circumstances but by conscience. “My iniquities have gone over my head,” he cries in verse 4, “like a heavy burden, they are too heavy for me.” Sin is no light matter. It expresses rebellion against the Almighty, but also wounds us, erodes our peace, and burdens our hearts. David, the mighty king, the man after God’s own heart, finds himself brought low—not by foreign armies, but by his own transgressions. He feels the burning heat of divine discipline. Body and mind and spirit groan under the weight of God’s arrows. “I am utterly bowed down and prostrate,” he says. The effects of sin are all-encompassing. And yet, if this is the agony felt by one man over his own sins, how much