A Life Worthy

Hide your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquity (Psalm 51:9).

“Wow, I hope nobody saw that.”

How many times have you thought those words?

Oh, come on—it’s more than that and you know it.

When you do something embarrassing, you simply don’t want people looking at you.  Whether it’s missing the easy shot, tripping over your own feet, or walking into the only tetherball pole in an entire acre of middle school asphalt—all of which I have done—you don’t want an audience.  You kinda want the ground to open up and swallow you, just so that no one can look at you.

When you do something truly wrong—when you intentionally sin—that feeling goes way past embarrassment.

It becomes shame.

And you would do anything, just anything, to turn back the clock, to undo what you did, or at least to dissolve into the ground, just so that no one can look at you.

David gets you.  He’s been there, only bigger.  He cried out to God to look away from him, to act as if he hadn’t seen David’s sin.  He begged his Lord to take the sin away, to make it as though it had never occurred.

And God did.

Consequences?  Oh, yes, there were consequences.

There always are.

But David’s relationship with God was restored,

and in the end

that’s all that matters.

God did that because David was his Beloved.

Oh, yeah—you and I are Beloved, too.

Take that into your weekend.

Happy Friday, Beloved.

Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow (Psalm 51:7).

Lady Macbeth knew.

Most of us can recall little of our high school Shakespeare, but we remember the murdering queen who walked and talked in her sleep.  Night after night she got out of bed, still asleep, and tried to scrub the blood of her crimes from her hands. There was nothing visible on her skin, but she knew the blood—the sin—was there.

“Out, out, damn spot!” she cried, but she could not make herself clean.  When the doctor saw her somnambulistic scrubbing, he commented that she did not need a doctor—she needed the Divine. This man knew his stuff—most doctors in that time period would have prescribed leeches.

Bad news—no one can cleanse your heart except God himself.  Few would be willing, and none would be able.

Good news—God is more than willing, and he is more than able. Whiter than snow, Baby. Whiter than snow.

Put down the Boraxo, Beloved.  Lift your heart to Him.

Happy Wednesday

Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me (Psalm 51:5).

Well, there’s a comforting thought.

As if this week wasn’t shaping up to be hard enough,  I‘ve gotta get hit with the concept that I’ve been sinful for as long as I’ve been me.

Still…there it is.

It’s not like sin is just a one-time, or even sometime, thing.  David can’t say, “Oops, I slipped.  Apart from this episode, I’ve pretty much been perfection.”  Even David—giant killing, Psalm writing, man-after-God’s-own-heart David—knows that sin seems to be woven into the very fabric of his nature.  He doesn’t stand a chance of standing on his own. It’s like fighting cancer with cough drops.

Poor David.

Poor me.

Poor us.

And yet God, because of who he is, loved us anyway.

And so God, because he loved us, didn’t want us to die in sin, as we were born in sin.

And then God, because he didn’t want us to die, died in our place.

And now God, because he died for us, raises us to life in him.

And this God, who had raised you to life, calls you Beloved.

I guess it’s not such a bad way to start your week, after all.

Happy Monday, Beloved.

Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight, so that you are proved right when you speak and righteous when you judge (Psalm 51:4).

So, that driver you had the little road rage incident with, you know, the one who obviously saw that you were there but cut you off anyway, the one you chased for three miles so you could give him the evil eye and the fancy finger—the one who turned out to be an octogenarian grandma totally oblivious to your righteous wrath?

Yeah, that was Jesus.

The cop you lied to to get out of that ticket for multiple unsafe lane changes that you made in order to catch up to the aforementioned Granny-Who-Cannot-Drive?

Also, as it happens, Jesus.

The supermarket checker who got written up because her drawer didn’t balance because you kept the money she gave you because she can’t count and gave you seriously inaccurate change?

That would be the Lord of the Universe.

The scores of freakish folk you mocked on the “People of Walmart” page?

Your savior…each and every one.

I’m assuming that you’re not in David’s league here, that adultery and assassination are absent from your repertoire of iniquity.  It doesn’t really matter. Every sin—big or small in your perception—is ultimately committed against Jesus. He said as much in the parable of the sheep and the goats:

Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me….whatever you did not do for the least of these, you did not do for me (Matt 25).

Is it really such a stretch to say that whatever we do to the least of these we do to him?

David realized this—eventually.  It got his head straight so that he was ready for real repentance.

Fortunately, Beloved, you have no need for repentance today.  This is merely an academic exercise for you, as your conscience is clear.

Well, you know, except for…

Hmm…

Happy Thursday, Beloved

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions.  Wash away my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin (Psalm 51:1-2).

There are two kinds of people in this world:

those who need forgiveness, and…

oh, wait—I guess there’s only one kind of people in this world.

Look, your sin may not be on the epic scale of King David’s—adultery, abuse of power, conspiracy to commit murder—but it’s still sin.

And you still need forgiveness.

And you still don’t deserve it.

David realized this.  He claimed no special privileges as God’s anointed.  He made no appeal based on his previous devotion. He expected no “do-overs” because of the mighty deeds he had done in God’s name.

He asked for mercy, not because of who he was, but because of who God is.

Oh, but Michael, we have something David didn’t have.  We have the Cross.

Yes, we do, Beloved. And we don’t deserve that, either.  The Cross stands as the ultimate evidence of God’s selfless love and great compassion.

Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t expect forgiveness.  If you belong to Christ, the grace purchased at the Cross is yours for the taking—every day, all the time.  But don’t demand it–not with your words, or with your actions, or with your attitude.

Receive it with joy, a gift from the One who knows you best and loves you anyway.

Happy Tuesday, Beloved.