“Now these be the last words of David. David the son of Jesse said, and the man who was raised up on high, the anointed of the God of Jacob, and the sweet psalmist of Israel, said, ‘The Spirit of the Lord spake by me, and his word was in my tongue….'” (II Samuel 23:1-2 KJV)
That’s an interesting three-fold description of this greatest of all Israeli kings. All three are fascinating, but none moreso than “the sweet psalmist of Israel.” The “sweet” song-writer who gave us so many wonderful psalms, many of the 150 in our Old Testament book of Psalms. There is no doubt that some of the songs penned by this man are still being sung every day somewhere on this planet, and have been for most of the 3,000 years since he walked this land.
It’s worth noting that the writer of this line from II Samuel did not refer to David as the writer of the sweet songs, but the sweet songwriter for the nation. (Modern translations say “favorite.”) There was a sweetness in his soul, and had to have been, in order for him to have said some of the blessed things he did.
For a long time I carried an image in my mind of the teenage David keeping his father’s sheep on a green hillside, strumming his lyre, and composing, say, what would become the 23rd Psalm. But I don’t think that’s how it happened. The young David could not have composed such songs as this, as well as the 40th, 46th, and 91st psalms. And I’ll tell you why.
He had not lived enough, sinned enough, suffered enough, and been forgiven enough to know the incredible depths of God’s love, the infinite extent of His mercy, the healing balm of His tenderness, and the satisfying comfort of His faithfulness.
The Apostle Paul put it like this: “Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound.” (Romans 5:20) That set off a howling among his detractors. The very idea of implying that the more one sins, the more of God’s favor he receives. No wonder they bitterly retaliated, “Well, let us continue in sin that grace may really, really be showered upon us!” (Romans 6:1) They weren’t serious, but were simply taking his argument to what they saw as its logical conclusion.
You’re missing the point, Paul responded. In order to fully appreciate the forgiving, merciful side of our Lord, one has to have deserved His censure, earned His judgment, and justified His wrath, and then instead of receiving these, to have been shown only His kindness.
Only penitent sinners see this side of His nature.
And only “big” penitent sinners see the greatness of His grace, the scope of His mercy, and the bottomless supply of His lovingkindness.
Never fear, friend. You have sinned quite enough to qualify. No need to return to what Scripture calls “the flesh-pots of Egypt” (Exodus 16:3).
What we sinners actually need to do is pay attention to what we have done and give thought to what it all means from Heaven’s point of view. Quit alibi-ing our neglects and excusing our rebellions. Confess, own up, admit, and come clean. Take a hard look at our record over the years since we learned right from wrong.
Once we see it as God does, we will stand in awe that Heaven did not strike us dead on several occasions. Far from that, He stood by and let us sin grievously, and when we turned to Him in prayer whether in a few hours or many years, He forgave us as though He had not even seen the earlier offenses.
In light of this, we can begin to understand many things, including why some interpret this as divine indulgence to be taken advantage of, and conclude, in the words of a popular religious song a half-century ago, “Though it makes Him sad to see the way we live, He’ll always say ‘I forgive.'”
The more we understand of our own depravity and destructiveness, the more we appreciate His grace.
Jesus said of the woman anointing Him with the costly perfume, “She loves much because she has been forgiven much.” (Luke 7:47) He went on to explain that what was forgiven was “her sins, which were many.”
There it is: the size of the forgiveness is related to the dimensions of the offense. And the appreciation for the forgiveness is directly related to the dead-weight of sin and guilt one was carrying before Christ removed it and loosened us.
One can almost appreciate later believers who were beginning to grasp such a concept concluding that we should “sin big.”
My point here, after establishing that only “big” sinners can truly appreciate the greatness of God’s grace and love, is that we have sinned quite enough to qualify on that count, although most of us never look dispassionately enough at our shameful record to be convinced of that.
So long as we excuse our failings, justify our omissions, alibi our rebellions, and rationalize our ungodliness, we will always feel as though we were entitled to salvation and never give grace the place it deserves.
If I deserve anything, it’s not of grace. If grace played an insignificant part in my salvation, if only a trace of rebelliousness was found in me so that God’s forgiveness was a forgone conclusion for someone as wonderful as me, then I walk into the Kingdom in my own self-confidence and practically face Christ as an equal. Thankful? Me? for what? I did this, thank you.
There are literally hundreds of internal clues to the divine character of Holy Scripture which present-day religious sleuths should have a field day with. But nothing more clinches Holy Spirit authorship for this Book than this: it records the murderous failings of its heroes.
Not that we particularly notice. We who do not see our own unworthiness but plenty in others, are not surprised to read of the flaws of Scripture’s saints: Abraham’s carnality, Jacob’s underhandedness, Moses’ temper, and certainly David’s failures as father, husband, and national leader.
The closer we get to the Lord, the more two great realities overwhelm us: the wonders of our mighty God and the wickedness of ourselves and others.
Here’s how Isaiah put it. “I am a man of unclean lips and I dwell in the midst of a people just like me.” And why did he feel this way? “Because my eyes have seen the King.” (Isaiah 6)
Isaiah was having a vision, he tells us, of a righteous God whose presence was filling the temple while he himself was cringing in his unworthiness, hoping only to survive this experience. When God purged him of his impurities–forgave him of his sin–a voice called out, “Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?” The prophet murmurs from the floor where he has melted into a puddle, “Here am I, Lord. Send me.”
“Pastor,” the woman sitting in the church office said, “God could never forgive me. I have sinned far too much.”
The man of God leaned forward. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. That is the best news I’ve heard today.”
This was not what she had expected. “What? You’re glad that I’m beyond God’s reach?”
“Ma’am,” he said, “No one is beyond the reach of our loving Savior. Particularly you. In fact, when you admit that you are unworthy of His forgiveness and deserve only His wrath, you have taken the first step toward receiving His salvation.”
He went on to explain how all are unworthy, all deserve judgment, and all are the objects of the blessings of Christ’s death on Calvary. (Romans 3 covers all three points.)
That morning, the woman opened her heart to the Savior. Jesus Christ forgave her sin and brought her into the family of God as a newborn child. The Holy Spirit entered her life to show her God’s new way and enable her to live it, while an angel wrote her name down in Heaven’s baby-book.
The woman walked out of the pastor’s office laughing that day. The skies were overcast and a drizzle was falling, but the sun was radiant in her soul. She could not comprehend all that had just happened, and in fact, never would, but she knew that she had walked in on her way to hell and was walking out on her way to Heaven.
The woman would later find some of David’s great love-songs to the Almighty in the Psalms, and treasure them as the expressions of her own gratitude and love.
“I waited patiently for the Lord, and He turned to me and heard my cry for help. He brought me up from a desolate pit, out of the muddy clay, and set my feet on a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.” (Psalm 40:1-3)
“God is our refuge and strength, a helper who is always found in times of trouble. Therefore, we will not be afraid….” (Psalm 46:1-2)
“I will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.’ He Himself will deliver you from the hunter’s net, from the destructive plague…His faithfulness will be a protective shield. You will not fear the terror of the night….” (Psalm 91:2-5. HCSB)
No sinless Sunday School kid wearing his perfect attendance badges wrote those lines. These came from the battle-scarred soul of a veteran, one who had been wounded in life and who would have been left for dead on the field by any “normal” god, but who had been picked up and lovingly brought back to health and usefulness by a tender Heavenly Father.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found.
Was blind but now I see.
This week I ran across a line which I copied and will keep reminding myself of, in my attempt to be used of the Lord to “stand men on their feet” in this blog.
“People are always more encouraged when we share how God’s grace helped us in weakness than when we brag about our strengths.” (Rick Warren, a man of considerable strengths.)