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July-21-0472-The God who doesn’t walk away

July 21


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 more severe was the suffering of Christ who bore the sins of the whole world?

Isaiah 53 takes us into that terrible moment. “He was pierced for our transgressions,” the prophet declares, “he was crushed for our iniquities… the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” Jesus was the sacrifice to put away or atone for the sin of the whole world. The cross was not only a place of physical torment but the place where God showed how he could pass over the sins of generations, because of the Lamb of God who took away the sin of the world. The Son of God offered the sacrifice we could never have borne, to offer us the peace we could never earn.

David, weighed down and surrounded by sorrow, finds himself isolated. “My friends and companions stand aloof from my plague,” he says in verse 11. But though his loved ones shrink from him, his enemies are relentless. They seize the opportunity to plot and accuse. “Those who seek my life lay their snares… they meditate treachery all day long” (v. 12).

This is often how sin works in our lives. It can create physical misery. It can isolate us from our friends. It turns our joy into bitterness, our relationships into tension, and leaves us vulnerable to the enemy’s accusations. At the same time, there are those who take advantage of our humbling to lay their traps and ensure our downfall.

But in this emotional and spiritual storm, David turns away from despair. He remembers the only one who can help. “For you, O Lord, do I wait,” he says in verse 15. “It is you, O Lord my God, who will answer.”

This is the pivot of the psalm and the heart of the message. David does not run from God whom he has offended. Instead, he runs to Him. His faith, though battered by his sin, still lives. He knows his only hope is found in God’s forgiveness and mercy, and so he confesses his sin. “I confess my iniquity; I am sorry for my sin,” he says (v. 18). His cry is not merely for relief—it is for restoration and the vindication that will result from his deliverance.

“Many are those who hate me wrongfully,” David laments, “those who render me evil for good.” (vv. 19-20). His final plea is deeply personal and profoundly urgent: “Do not forsake me, O Lord! O my God, be not far from me! Make haste to help me, O Lord, my salvation!” (vv. 21-22).

He needs everything, and he turns to God for it all. He needs deliverance from the harm plotted by his enemies. He needs forgiveness so that the pain of his body, soul and spirit may subside. He needs God to show his enemies that David is his servant. He needs a clear conscience and a restored relationship with his God.

David knew both the weight of sin and the wonder of forgiveness. In Psalm 32 he would later write, “Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man against whom the Lord counts no iniquity.” He had lived in the shadow of guilt, and he came out repentant into the sunlight of grace.

When we sin—and we all do—let us turn first and always only to God. Not our self-justifications or distractions. Not our own efforts to do better. Like the prodigal younger son who ended up in a pigsty in a distant land, having wasted his own inheritance, David comes back, not sure of anything except that he who calls on God in faith will be answered and rewarded. And the father runs to him, embraces him, and celebrates his return. That’s the heart of God. That’s the same heart that heard David’s cry.

Contrast that with Judas Iscariot. After betraying Jesus, he was overcome with guilt, but he sought the forgiveness of men instead of God. He tried to buy back his innocence. Instead of running to the Savior, he fled and hanged himself.

Isaiah 55 offers this gracious invitation: “Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.” The forgiveness we receive is not a random or easy gift. It is the unmatchable result of Christ’s passion and of our union with him. It is not bought with our sorrow but with His blood, the symbol of our death with him on the cross.

William Cowper captured this truth in his beloved hymn:

There is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.

There is no sin so dark, no failure so deep, no burden so heavy that the Lord Jesus cannot cleanse and carry. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. Don’t let shame keep you away from the only one who can forgive you. Don’t wait until you feel worthy—come just as you are, like the little boy with the broken vase. He’s not waiting to scold you. He’s waiting to embrace you.

David’s cry in Psalm 38 is an invitation to all of us. When guilt overwhelms, when we are isolated and surrounded by enemies, there is still one who remains – the Lord Jesus, our Savior. He is our first and our last resort.

When we are burdened, let us come at once to the Lord and confess our sin so that we can be cleansed. Let us not carry it another step. He is faithful and just to forgive and cleanse you from all unrighteousness. Run to Him—He’s waiting for you to come. God bless.

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Date:
July 21