2 Happy are they to whom the Lord imputes no guilt and in whose spirit there is no guile!
Those of you who were here on Ash Wednesday may remember the three-fold confession of Psalm 51. Here in Psalm 32 we have that same description of human sinfulness, with the addition of another element of sin. The first word for sin in Psalm 32 is transgression, a child's rebellion against her parents. The second word is sin, a target that has been missed. The third word is guilt, the twisted, deformed nature of a life infected by sin. All three of these were listed in Psalm 51 as a description of the utter sinfulness of the writer of that psalm of repentance.
Today we see another element of sin: guile. This is treachery, unreliability, "like a gun that backfires or cannot be depended on to function."[1] The combination of the four gives us a description of a thankful person: "someone who is not rebelling against God, whose life is on track, straightened out, and marked by honesty," according to one scholar.[2] We believe that the pursuit of happiness is an inalienable human right – but is this the pursuit our nation's founding fathers intended? Too often we equate happiness with material possessions, a lack of suffering, a certain level of comfort: the psalmist today shows us that happiness that is truly worthy of thanks comes from personal transformation from a rebellious, twisted, broken life to a life of virtue and dependability. This is a description that might be hard for us to understand.
4 For Your hand was heavy upon me day and night; my moisture was dried up as in the heat of summer.
When I was young, I hated to sit through church services. The only thing I enjoyed was the singing: the rest was utter boredom. Being an active, rebellious child, I often displayed my boredom by fidgeting, talking loudly, and making a mess. But my father had ways of making me stay in my seat quietly. My father's hands were heavy. Dad could put his hand on my elbow or knee and find the nerves there in about 1.5 seconds. With one squeeze I generally sat right down and shut right up, because I knew that when that strong, brown, callused hand started moving in my direction, I was out of line and was going to be corrected. I never liked it, and sometimes I continued to rebel because I felt like I deserved to be entertained. But that hand was relentless: it was going to have what it wanted from me, even if it had to cause me pain.
Years later, of course, I understand. Dad wasn't sadistic or even mean: Dad wanted me to sit down and listen because in worship I would receive God's good news. Dad understood the meaning of the third commandment: "honor the Sabbath & keep it holy. We should fear and love God so that we do not despise worship and preaching, but gladly come to hear and obey God's word." Dad knew that the heavy hand he was putting on me was necessary for my own good.
God knows this, too. If God has to get into a wrestling match with you, like Jacob by the river on the edge of his brother Esau's land, then God will do it. God will grab that nerve in your elbow or your knee or your soul and squeeze hard if that's what it takes: God's not above fighting dirty to get your attention.
Abraham Lincoln once forgave a Civil War traitor because the man's mother requested it. But legend has it that
6 I said, "I will confess my transgressions to the Lord." Then You forgave me the guilt of my sin.
God's word doesn't come heavy-handed because God wants it that way. My father used a heavy hand because he needed my attention: God uses a heavy hand to get our attention and to help us see where it is our sin is leading us. The twisted, off-the-mark, rebellious, treacherous things in our lives will kill us without God's heavy hand to get our attention. Some Sundays of my childhood I sat right down, shut right up and started listening, and that was all my father wanted. I never even had to apologize for my uncontrollable fidgeting – I just had to stop it, and my father was satisfied. Other times I needed further correction. I can remember my father asking me if I understood why he was angry with me, and I had to confess what it was that I had done. Again, this was all that was needed: our relationship was mended with the simple confession and forgiveness my father offered to me. Dad knew that if my rebellion continued, I would miss the things of great importance that were offered in that church in Nebraska every Sunday morning – and so Dad asked me to confess my sins in order that I might not miss such a great gift.
God asks the same of us. God asks us to remember what it was that separated our relationship so that we might guard against it in the future. God asks us to confess so that we might know exactly what kind of people God is forgiving. God is giving us more and more reasons to be thankful because our sins are great and our need for forgiveness grows with every passing day. And then God forgives. God offers us absolution, not because our confessions are accurate or worthy, but because God is a God of great and abundant love. Shouldn't we be thankful for a God who helps us to ask for the forgiveness we need, which is more than the forgiveness we want?
8 You are my hiding-place; You preserve me from trouble; You surround me with shouts of deliverance.
9 "I will instruct you and teach you in the way that you should go; I will guide you with my eye.
10 Do not be like horse or mule, which have no understanding; who must be fitted with bit and bridle, or else they will not stay near you."
I imagine this might be a hard couple of verses for the survivors of Katrina to hear. When the water is rising in your house – when you're desperately looking for any kind of shelter at all, when the bodies are floating around your house and you haven't eaten in days, what kind of God could you believe in?
I can't tell you what Katrina survivors might think about God, but I can tell you what you can do now for yourselves. One of the great failures of the Katrina disaster was a failure to adequately prepare – and that is one of our great failures of faith, too. There may not be any atheists in foxholes, but the faith you find in a foxhole isn't the faith that God intends for us. The levees in
The key in these few verses is the word therefore. It connects everything that comes before to everything that comes after. Because God's hand is sometimes heavy, we confess, receive forgiveness, and begin to understand that in our times of trouble the God who forgives is also a God who rescues. Because God wants to instruct us and teach us, we should listen and prepare for the storms that may rise in our lives. Because God has promised forgiveness, we should trust that no circumstance or failing can come between us and God's love for us.
Thankfulness can't rise from people who don't know where to look for it. A horse or a mule isn't thankful for the bit that causes pain, but a horse needs a bit to know where to go. The law is the bridle that holds us back from our sin, and the thankful soul is one that sees the world through the freedom of forgiven sin, through the removed restraint. The thankful person has no need of restraint because the thankful soul knows where danger lies and, more importantly, the way to life and peace through forgiveness and love. Shouldn't we be thankful that we have a Creator who teaches us to live life beyond bit and bridle into freedom and love? Shouldn't we be thankful that we have a Creator who wants to teach us on the sunny days to weather the storms that are coming?
12 Be glad, you righteous, and rejoice in the Lord; shout for joy, all who are true of heart.
In the end, we who trust in God have nothing left but thankfulness. Through God's hands the power of conviction leads us to confession. Through God's hands forgiveness and mercy are given freely. Through God's hands we are sustained through the trials of life and even through the doorway of death. Through God's voice we learn to follow without a harness or restraint. None of this is from what we deserve, but from a loving God who continually creates in us what is needed for the world God desires. A wise man once said that "if the only prayer we ever learned were "Thank you," it would be enough."
Last week I played for you a song by Rich Mullins – I won't do that again this week, but I'd like to read you the lyrics to another of his songs, entitled "The Hatching of a Heart:"
But I knew somehow I'd have to run that risk, have to open up myself
But You said "look at the stars on the face of the sky; they're the same ones Abraham saw.
Come under my wings I will make you shine, give you strength enough to love."
Oh, now I'm getting strong enough.
You helped me chip my way out and open myself up
And for the snow that comes with winter
For the growth that comes from pain
For the joke I can't remember
Though the laughter long remains
For the faith that brought to finish
All I doubted at the start
Lord, I give you praise for all that makes
For the hatching of a heart
Well my face was smooth and featureless, just like an egg
And if I was moved you would never guess it by the look upon my face
But You said, "Man looks without but I look within; I can see the love you hide.
It's a matter of doubt it's a symptom of sin. It's a problem of too much pride."
And I, now I'm opening up wide
Wet feathers pulled out from beneath me
And You're teaching me to fly
For the strength that comes with friendship
For the warmth that comes with hope
For the love time can't diminish
And for the time love takes to grow
For the moonlight on the water
And for the bright and morning star
Lord I give you praise for all that makes
For the hatching of a heart
We do not learn thanksgiving through receiving the good things we want: we learn thanksgiving by learning to look for the good we already have. When we understand that all of life is a gift from our loving God, that even our burdens and our sufferings and God's heavy-handed conviction are given so that we might grow and be transformed and be made new, we learn to give thanks in all that we say and do. When conviction, confession, forgiveness, endurance and finally wisdom are our way of life, we learn to give thanks in the way that God desires. Be thankful, you righteous, and rejoice in the Lord. Amen.
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