The classic prayer for forgiveness is Psalm 51, known from
its opening word in Latin as the Miserere.
It’s a breast-beater and a good one. The most profound there is. I’ve been
praying it (on my knees, no less) every day during Lent.
I made a discovery. (Okay, God showed me something).
The first five verses are contrition: admitting guilt and
asking pardon. David had more need of this than any of us, since, in addition
to his wars and other despotic acts, he raped the wife of a loyal officer, then
murdered her husband in a shameful betrayal and cover up. But his heart was
deeply afflicted over it. Generations have echoed his repentant words:
Have
mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your
abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.
Wash
me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
For
I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.
Against
you, you alone, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight, so that you
are justified in your sentence and blameless when you pass judgment.
Indeed,
I was born guilty, a sinner when my mother conceived me.
But then the next verse takes us in a different direction.
With a perception I had never seen before, David realizes that contrition can
also have bad effects. He changes focus and asks God not to let sorrow crush
his spirit by making him feel alienated from God. He prays to put his sins
behind him, asking God to keep him balanced in the truth, to let him feel
clean, experience joy and enthusiasm again, and not just give up on doing great
things for God and for the world. He prays for a confident and willing spirit.
You desire
truth in the inward being; therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones
that you have crushed rejoice.
Hide your face from my sins, and blot out all
my iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a
new and right spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from your presence, and do
not take your holy spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and
sustain in me a willing spirit.
David goes beyond himself and his self-reproach. He looks
outwards to work to be done; to others who need help, his help. He turns his
thoughts to God and to praising God. He realizes that immersion in sorrow for
sin can become immersion in self. He asks God to turn his thoughts to praising
him and proclaiming his mercy to others.
Then
I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will return to you.
Deliver
me from bloodshed, O God, O God of my salvation, and my tongue will sing aloud
of your deliverance.
O
Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise.
David knows the desire of God’s heart. God doesn’t dwell on
anyone’s sins. He is not interested in endless breast-beating or efforts to
make up for what one has done wrong. It is enough for God that we have seen the
truth about ourselves and about him. Now it is time to act on what we know.
For
you have no delight in sacrifice; if I were to give a burnt offering, you would
not be pleased.
The
sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O
God, you will not despise.
God always looks to the now and to the future: to what we
can do for him today and for our fellow humans. When we have all helped each
other to come together in the “peace and unity of his kingdom,” then we can
spend eternity caught up in the one Sacrifice that abolished sin once and for
all and made us a new creation.
Do
good to Zion in your good pleasure; rebuild the walls of Jerusalem.
Then you will delight in right sacrifices, in burnt
offerings and whole burnt offerings; then bulls will be offered on your altar.
I used to think a “firm purpose of amendment” looked
backwards to sins committed, with concern never to repeat them. Now I see it is
above all a looking forward to living and working immersed in Christ, without
allowing anything, especially our past sins, to discourage or distract us.