Psalm78 paints a pretty grim picture. The people of Israel are unfaithful; God
forgives them; they are unfaithful again; God disciplines; it works, and they
come back to him; but it doesn’t last, and they are unfaithful again. Anyone
who has read the Old Testament knows this cycle gets annoying pretty quickly.
Up to
a certain point, when they come back to God their remorse seems legitimate. But
eventually even their repentance becomes a lie, a sin against God.
In spite of all this, they still sinned; despite his wonders,
they did not believe. So he made their days vanish like a breath, and their
years in terror. When he killed them, they sought him; they repented and sought
God earnestly. They remembered that God was their rock, the Most High God their
redeemer. But they flattered him with their mouths; they lied to him with
their tongues. Their heart was not steadfast toward him; they were not
faithful to his covenant. (Psalm
78.32-37)
Does that remind us of
anything? How many times have we prayed that God would forgive us, all the
while knowing we had no real intention of changing? How many times have we
asked God's forgiveness to get him off our backs, with no impulse that comes from the conversion of our hearts?
It is an offense to
lie to our neighbors. But even if it's not a worse offense to lie to God, it's at least scarier. It should terrify us to
know that we have not only lied to our neighbors, but to God himself.
Why am I saying this?
Why call back to mind this dark and depressing tendency we all have to
self-destruct?
For two reasons. The
first is because I’ve been that liar. I have lied to God more times than I can
count. I've even done so knowing perfectly well what I was doing...and not caring.
The second is because
God’s grace to me has been greater than my offense. Where sin abounded, grace
has abounded much, much more. This is more than the father welcoming the
prodigal son back home; this is the Great King welcoming his would-be assassin to become his adopted son, dine at his table, sleep in his house.
Look at the rest of the
passage:
But they flattered him with their mouths; they lied to him
with their tongues. Their heart
was not steadfast toward him; they were not faithful to his covenant. Yet
he, being compassionate, atoned for their iniquity and did not destroy them; he
restrained his anger often and did not stir up all his wrath. He remembered
that they were but flesh, a wind that passes and comes not again. (Ps.
78.36-39)
God forgives not only
the Israelites’ sin, but also the fact that they sinned directly against him.
He not only forgives them when they lie, but when they lie directly to him. He
remembers they are human, for he created them; he recognizes their weakness,
for he sent his Son to die in order to do what they couldn't. And knowing their frailty, he
forgives—rather reacting like an angry taskmaster who has been robbed by his slaves, God reacts like a loving father forgiving the selfishness of an immature toddler.
What's the point?
Jesus died for ALL of
our sins. To the person who says, My sin
is too great for God to forgive me, God responds: “Who are you to tell me
I’m not big enough to forgive that sin? That my love is not deep enough? That
my grace is not great enough to cover it? Who are YOU to tell ME that I'm not good enough to show you mercy?”
What an insult to say
God isn’t big enough, loving enough or free enough to forgive my sin! It is an
offense to sin against God, but refusing his grace to forgive is a sin that is
infinitely worse—a sin that is ultimately damning. Jesus died for you;
he died for this sin. Don’t mock him
by saying your sin is too great for him, the infinitely great God. Honor him by
letting him wash it clean. Christ came not to be served but to serve, and to
give his life as your ransom (Matthew 20.28). Honor him: let him forgive you.
