“I am not stubborn; I’m just always right.” You have probably seen this saying, which is found on T-shirts, coffee mugs, and memes. And some of you might resemble this. Now sure, stubbornness can be mistaken for things like determination, grit, and independence, things that may be virtuous. Yet, this light-hearted meme does put its finger on a proclivity we all suffer from: We do not like to admit we are wrong. To say, “my bad; it was my mistake; I messed that up”—such an admission can scare us worse than any other phobia. Some folk never say they were wrong. It is generally agreed that to err is human, but it is equally human to refuse to confess error. Well, the psalmist has some advice about this, which brings us to the miracle of our redemption.

The title to this 32^nd psalm contains a term that makes its first appearance in the psalter here. David wrote this psalm as a maskil. Our understanding of this word is not firm, but it likely has the sense of instruction, as it is related to the word for imparting wisdom. This psalm has exhortations to rejoice, so it was set to music for worship. It also deals with the topic of forgiveness, so the temple themes of atonement and sacrifice are close at hand. Yet, this hymn of pardon is intended to counsel us in wisdom. It is a catechetical song, kind of like those songs of the Shorter Catechism for our kids. Besides, memorization is easier when you can sing it, so, this psalm is one to remember for a healthy dose of wisdom.

With its opening sprinkled with sugar, we hear a double blessing—blessed . . . blessed—which is a great place to be. Upon whom, though, does this twofold beatitude fall? It rests on those whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sin is covered. The term for forgiveness here is the classic one that we also find in the sacrificial system. In Exodus 34, our Lord proclaimed himself as the one who forgives sin and iniquity. Literally, this is the phrase to bear sin away. In the Old Testament, sin was conceived as a sort of burden, a heavy weight, which when committed was stuffed in your backpack. Each transgression was another load on your back that would eventually crush you if not borne away. Thus, the Lord forgave you by lifting off the weights of your guilt from you and bearing them away. In Exodus 28, the high priest labored to bear away the sins of the people, which was done by transferring your sins upon the sacrifice to be destroyed. The pounds of sin buckled your back with pain and strain, but blessed are those whose sin has been carried off.

Likewise, a second image of pardon is to have your sin covered, which falls within the idea of being erased. Another Old Testament concept of sin was that each person had a heavenly book or tally, and each time you sinned that infraction was written down in your personal celestial archive. Talk about hand cramps for that poor angelic scribe who never got to put the pen down, as we sin constantly. As long as God could see the list of our many transgressions, his wrath was irritated and judgment was at the ready. Therefore, to have your sin covered or erased spelled an end to judgment and safety from wrath.

The third image aligns nicely with this one. It is blessed when the Lord does not count your iniquity against you. This is God not imputing your sin on you. He orders the court reporter not to write it on your rap sheet. This is like you charging something on your credit card, but the debt never made it on your bill. You racked up the debt, but the authorities do not come after you. The three terms for sins include every category of sin, small and big, felony and misdemeanor. And the three expressions for forgiveness are comprehensive and thorough, for a total pardon. To have all your evil deeds forgiven, is there a higher blessing?

Furthermore, note that this double blessing rests upon those who are pardoned and not on the perfect. It does not say, blessed are the flawless, those who have never misstepped or failed, those holy in righteousness. No, the morally pristine are not blessed, but the sinner whose sin has been covered is. And this fits with the last line in verse 2, “ . . . whose spirit has no deceit.” Deception in your spirit is self-delusion, lying to yourself, suppressing the truth to yourself. A deceit-free spirit, then, is open honesty to yourself about yourself. Without guile, you admit the real nature of your actions. And this self-disclosure deals with our depravity. There are many who live in self-deception about sin. Hordes refuse to admit that they have ever done anything wrong, and even more will concede a few errors but no serious crimes. Hypocrites, the proud, and the stubborn strut around as being morally sound with no need for forgiveness. If you have nothing to confess, then what use is pardon? And we all have such deceptive tendencies in our spirits. The heart is deceitful above all. Sure, Scripture tells us that all have sinned and fallen short, but we suppress and ignore this with ninja skills.

And this bad habit springs up in the psalmist. “I was silent; I kept it all to myself.” With deceit, the psalmist signed an NDA. He was not going to confess his sin; he did not do anything wrong. Admit a transgression? It is not going to happen. Innocence is his game, and he always wins. No sins mar his hands, which is so human; it is so us. Admitting wrong-doing can be harder for us than flying to the moon. We dodge confession like bullets in the Matrix; we deflect, blame-shift, get defensive, rephrase, and dress up sin like it is a virtue. We gather others around us who will pat us on the back, and we jettison any who hold us accountable. We are mute when it comes to our sin, to ourselves, to others, to God.

But this silence is not without its side-effects. As the psalmist quietly suppressed his transgressions, the burden of guilt sickened him. His bones started to waste away within him; his strength evaporated like water in the heat of summer. This ailment could include some physical malady, but more likely these are metaphors for psychological agony. He had spiritual osteoporosis; the skeleton of his psyche cracked, fractured, and throbbed. We tend to judge bodily pain as the worst, but agony of soul can far exceed bodily torment, and the misery of guilt rules the roost. Festering guilt robs you of sleep; it grows more invasive over your consciousness like weeds that take over the backyard. Guilt is the blood you cannot wash from your hands, even if you scrub your skin off. It can literally drive you mad.

The haunting stabs of guilt issue from the hand of God. As it says, “Your hand was heavy upon me.” A heavy hand smacks around without mercy; it keeps poking like water-drip torture. There are no breaks, no respite. And no one has a heavy hand like God. The holy palm smashes you like a weighted blanket that will not let you breathe, which was the predicament of the psalmist. He sinned; he broke the law; he dabbled in wickedness. But his pride kept his peace. His spirit deceived him. “I did no wrong; no sin here to see. I am all good.” But the suppressed guilt became like spiritual food poisoning. It gurgled his soul and cramped his heart. The structure of his psyche started to melt. God’s heavy hand compressed him like a sardine, and the internal pressure grew too great. The critical moment was at hand: either he hits the pressure relief valve or he explodes. And thankfully, he evacuated his system.

“I acknowledged my sin. . . . I confessed my transgressions.” He broke his proud silence; he kicked deceit from his spirit, and he confessed! The thing he so dreaded to do, what he tried to avoid at all costs, he did. He admitted his wicked sins, which can be so onerous for us. To say those few little words, “I sinned,” and to mean it can be like birthing a piano sideways. To confess the shamefulness of our sin registers as too embarrassing, too exposing. Our fight or flight instincts kick in as if it is some sort for psychological suicide. We cannot admit fault, for this feels like showing weakness, like opening yourself to trouble and harm, like turning yourself in to the police.

But the psalmist performed this humble act of difficulty. Moreover, he uses a play on words. He confessed, he did not cover his sin. In verse 1, God’s blessing was to cover our sins, while here, proper humility does not cover our own sins. Thus, covering sin happens one way or another. If we cover our sin, the guilt erodes our bones, yet if we uncover our iniquities, then the Lord will cover them for us. Who does the covering makes all the difference! Self-covering is ruinous; divine covering is glorious.

Hence, now that he has undressed his evil deeds, the Lord pardons. “You forgave the guilt of my sin” (v. 5). The strong arms of the Lord lifted off the bulky burdens of sin. The suffocating grip of wickedness that had been long choaking him, the bone pain of his psyche, the intense heat of shame, all of this was gone. At the psalmist’s humble uncovering, the grace of God leapt into action. The blessings of pardon rained down from his mercy seat to erase and carry away all the guilt and sin of the psalmist. God’s heavy hand became the light touch of grace. Instead of crushing, it lifted up. The declaration of pardon is like the proclamation of liberty after long seasons in the harsh dungeon of sin. You can walk upright again; the haunting pain of guilt is no more. Calm replaces anxiety; peace overcomes fear and dread. What a glorious act of our Lord! When we confess, he forgives us, and he does so freely and abundantly.

Note here that God does not impose any sort of penance, payment plan, or work release program. He does not respond to the psalmist’s confession by saying, “Okay good, you confessed, but before you’re fully forgiven, give me a one thousand push-up’s.” The pardon is not conditioned on painful acts of contrition: self-flagellation, hail-Mary’s, alms given, or restitution payments. No, by the confession alone, the Lord ushers a wonderful and free forgiveness. And so sweet is this heavenly blessing, the psalmist has to share it with us. It is too amazing to keep to himself. And in our next installment, we get to sit in his schoolhouse and learn more about the life-giving fountain of the Lord’s mercy.

©Zach Keele. All Rights Reserved.

You can find the whole series here.

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Post authored by:

• Zach Keele

  

  Rev. Zachary Keele grew up on a ranch in a small town named Crawford, Colorado. He attended Geneva College in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania and received his Master of Divinity from Westminster Seminary California. He has served as the pastor of Escondido OPC since 2006.

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